9-" 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "VILLA  EDEN." 


ON  THE  HEIGHTS. 

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VTLLA  EDEN: 

THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


By  BERTHOLD  AUERBACH. 

TRANSLATED   BY  CHARLES   C.  SHACKFORD. 


BOSTON: 
ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 
1869. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 
ROBERTS  BROTHERS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  ot*  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press:  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co., 
Cambridge. 


* 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 

A  ROMANCE,  BY  BERTHOLD  AUERBACH. 


•    BOOK   I. — CHAPTER  I. 
THE  APPARITION. 

"Be  patient  a  few  minutes  longer! 
There's  a  man  beckoning  to  go  with  us,11 
said  the  boatman  to  his  passengers,  two 
women  and  one  man.  The  man  was  gray- 
haired,  of  slender  form,  rubicund  face,  and 
blue  eyes  of  a  kincüy,  but  absent-minded 
and  weary  expression  ;  a  heavy  moustache, 
wholly  covering  the  upper  lip,  seemed  out 
of  keeping  with  this  inoffensive  face.  He 
wore  a  new  summer  suit  of  that  fashionable 
material  which  seems  be-dashed  and  be- 
sprinkled with  white,  as  if  the  wearer  had 
purposely  rolled  himself  in  a  feather  bed. 
He  had,  moreover,  a  pretty  wallet  attached 
to  a  leather  belt,  and  embroidered  with  blue 
and  red  beads. 

Opposite  the  man  sat  a  tall  and  stately 
woman,  with  restless  eyes  and  sharp  fea- 
tures, that  might  once  have  been  attractive. 
She  shook  her  head,  vexed  at  the  delay, 
like  one  not  accustomed  to  be  kept  waiting, 
got  up,  and  sat  down  again.  She  wore  a 
pale-yellow  silk  dress,  and  the  white  veil  on 
her  gray  round  hat  was  wound  about  the  rim 
like  the  band  around  a  turban.  Again  she 
threw  back  her  head  with  a  quick  move- 
ment, then  looked  straight  down  before  her, 
as  if  not  to  show  any  interest  in  the  stranger, 
and  boring  with  the  point  of  her  large  para- 
sol into  the  side  of  the  boat. 

Near  the  man  sat  a  smiling,  fair  maiden, 
in  a  blue  summer  suit,  and  holding  in  her 
hand,  by  the  elastic  string,  a  small  blue  hat 
ornamented  with  a  bird's  wing.  Her  head 
was  rather  large  and  heavy,  and  the  broad 
forehead  was  made  yet  more  massive  by  a 
rich  abundance  of  braided  hair ;  a  large 
curl  on  each  side  rested  upon  her  shoulder 
and  breast.  The  girl's  countenance  was 
bright  and  clear  as  the  clear  day  which 
shed  its  beams  over  the  landscape.  She 
put  on  her  hat,  and  the  mother  gave  it  a 
little  touch  to  adjust  it  properly.  The  girl 
exchanged  quickly  her  coarse  leather  gaunt- 


lets for  delicate,  glossy  ones  which  she  took 
out  of  her  pocket ;  and  while  drawing  them 
on  with  great  dexterity,  she  looked  at  the 
new-comer. 

A  tall  and  handsome  young  man,  with  a 
full  brown  beard,  a  sinewy  frame,  a  gray 
shawl  over  his  shoulder,  and  upon  his  head 
a  broad-brimmed  gray  hat  with  black  crape, 
came  down  the  steep  and  zigzag  path  with 
a  vigorous  step  to  the  shore.  He  stepped 
into  the  boat,  and  lifting  his  hat  while  bow- 
ing in  silence,  displayed  a  noble  white  fore- 
head shaded  by  dark-brown  hair.  His  coun- 
tenance spoke  courage  and  firmness,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  had  an  expression  that 
awakened  confidence  and  trust. 

The  girl  cast  down  her  eyes,  while  her 
mother  once  more  fastened  and  unfastened 
her  hat-string,  contriving  at  the  same  time, 
with  seeming  carelessness,  to  place  one  long 
curl  in  front,  and  the  other  upon  the  shoul- 
der behind,  so  as  to  be  becoming,  and  to 
look  easy  and  natural. 

The  man  in  the  mottled  suit  pressed  the 
white  head  of  his  cane  to  his  lips.  The 
stranger,  seating  himself  apart  from  the 
others,  gazed  into  the  stream,  whilst  the 
boat  was  moving  rapidly  through  the  water. 
They  landed  at  an  island  on  which  was  a 
large  convent,  now  a  boarding-school  for 
girls. 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful!  and  are  the  lessons 
learned  there  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  pointing  to 
a  group  of  lofty  trees  on  the  shore,  clus- 
tered so  near  together  that  they  seemed  to 
have  grown  out  of  one  root,  and  with  low 
seats  inside  the  grove.  "  Go  on  !"  said  the 
mother  with  a  reproving  look  to  the  girl, 
and  immediately  taking  her  husband's  arm. 
The  girl  went  on  before,  and  the  stranger 
followed  them. 

In  the  thickets  sang  the  nightingales, 
the  blackbirds,  and  the  finches,  as  if  they 
would  proclaim,  "  Here  is  the  peace  and 
the  rest  of  Paradise,  and  no  one  disturbs 
us."  The  dark  fir-trees  with  their  shelter- 
ing branches,  and  the  long  row  of  light- 


2 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


green  larches  stood  motionless  by  the  shore, 
and  bees  hummed  in  the  blossoming  chest- 
nut-trees. They  reached  the  convent.  The 
building,  without  any  architectural  pecu- 
liarity, had  an  extended  prospect  of  the 
garden,  the  meadows  on  the  island,  the 
river,  and  the  mountains.  It  was  shut  up, 
and  no  human  being  was  to  be  seen.  The 
old  gentleman  pulled  the  bell ;  a  portress 
opened  a  small  window,  and  asked  what 
was  wanted.  Admission  was  demanded, 
but  the  portress  replied  that  it  could  not 
possibly  be  granted  that  evening.  "  Take 
in  my  card,  and  say  to  the  good  mother 
that  I  am  here  with  my  wife  and  daughter,'1 
said  the  old  gentleman.  "Permit  me  to 
add  also  my  card,1'  said  the  stranger.  The 
three  looked  round,  struck  by  the  pleasant 
tone  of  his  voice.  The  stranger  handed  his 
card,  and  added,  "Please  say  to  the  worthy 
Lady  Superior,  that  I  bring  a  message  of 
greeting  from  my  mother.1' 

The  portress  closed  the  window  quickly, 
while  the  four  stood  at  the  entrance.  "  I 
took  you  for  a  Frenchman,1'  said  the  old 
gentleman  with  a  kindly  tone  to  the  young 
man.  "I  am  a  German,"  he  replied. 
"  Have  you  then  a  relative  in  the  convent, 
and  are  you  acquainted  with  the  good 
mother?11  "No,  I  know  no  one  here.11 
The  answers  of  the  stranger  were  so  short 
and  direct,  that  he  gave  no  opportunity  to 
continue  the  conversation,  and  the  old  gen- 
tleman appeared  to  be  a  man  of  position 
and  character,  who  was  accustomed  to  be 
addressed,  and  not  to  make  advances.  He 
walked  with  the  two  ladies  towards  a  beau- 
tiful flower-bed,  and  placed  himself  with  his 
companions  upon  a  seat.  But  the  girl  was 
restless,  and  walking  up  and  down  along 
the  edge  of  the  meadow,  she  gathered  the 
hidden  violets.  The  young  man  remained 
standing  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot,  staring  at 
the  stone  steps  which  led  up  to  the  cloister- 
door,  as  though  he  must  find  out  what  va- 
rious destinies  had  already  gone  in  and  out 
over  them. 

Meanwhile,  the  old  gentleman  said  to  his 
wife,  "  That  elegant  young  man  appears  to 
me  to  be  a  gambler,  who  has  lost  all  his 
means  at  one  of  the  neighboring  baths. 
Who  knows  but  that  he  wants  to  borrow 
money  of  the  Lady  Superior  ? 11  She  laughed 
at  her  husband  for  being  disposed  to  see 
now,  for  the  third  time  during  this  journey, 
a  criminal  or  a  ruined  man  in  the  persons 
they  chanced  to  meet. 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man ;  "but  that's  the  mischief  of  these 
showy  establishments,  that  one  supposes 
everybody  he  meets  has  something  to  do 
with*  them.  Besides,  just  as  it  happened 
with  our  daughter  —  "  I 


1 '  Wl  it  happened  with  me  ?  "  asked  the 
girl  from  the  meadow.  "  Why,"  continued 
the  father,  "  how  often,  when  walking  be- 
hind you  at  the  baths,  have  I  heard  people 
say,  '  What  beautiful  false  hair  !  '  no  one 
now  thinks  that  there  is  anything  genuine." 

The  girl  laughed  merrily  to  herself,  and 
then  adding  a  violet  to  the  nosegay  on  her 
bosom,  called  out,  "  And  I  believe  the 
stranger  is  a  poet."  "Why?"  asked  the 
mother.  "  Because  a  poet  must  be  hand- 
some like  him."  The  old  gentleman  laughed, 
and  the  mother  said,  "Child,  you  are 
manufacturing  a  poet  out  of  your  own  im- 
agination ;  but,  silence !  let  us  go,  the  port- 
ress is  beckoning  to  us." 

The  convent  door  opened,  and  the  visi- 
tors entered.  Behind  the  second  grated 
door  stood  two  nuns  in  black  garments 
with  hempen  cords  about  their  waists. 
The  taller  nun,  an  old  lady  with  an  extraor- 
dinarily large  nose,  told  them  that  the  Lady 
Superior  was  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  receive 
any  one ;  that  it  was  the  evening  before 
her  birth-day,  and  she  always  remained,  on 
that  day,  alone  until  sunset ;  that  there  was 
a  further  difficulty  in  admitting  strangers 
to-day,  as  the  children  —  for  so  she  called 
the  pupils  —  had  prepared  a  spectacle  with 
which  to  gretet  the  Superior  after  sun-down  ; 
that  everything  was  in  disorder  to-day,  as 
a  stage  had  been  erected  in  the  great  din- 
ing-hall ;  that  the  Superior,  however,  had 
ordered  that  they  should  be  shown  over  the 
convent. 

The  two  nuns  led  the  way  through  the 
main  passage.  Their  step  was  hard  and 
noisy,  for  they  wore  wooden  shoes  fastened 
to  the  feet  by  leather  straps  over  the  stock- 
ings. The  smaller  and  prettier  nun,  with 
her  delicate  features  pinched  up  in  the  close- 
fitting  cap,  had  kept  herself  timidly  in  the 
background,  allowing  the  oilier  to  do  the 
talking.  But  now  she  addressed  the  girl 
in  the  blue  muslin  dress,  speaking  in  French. 
The  mother  gave  a  nod  of  satisfaction  to 
the  father,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  There,  now ; 
you  see  it  was  worth  while  to  let  the  child 
learn  something ;  that  was  my  doing,  and 
you  only  reluctantly  consented."  The  father 
could  not  refrain  from  informing  the  nun 
with  the  big  nose  that  his  daughter,  Lina, 
had  returned,  only  six  months  before,  from 
the  Convent  of  the  "  Sacred  Heart 11  at  Aix- 
la-Chapelle.  The  stranger  also  spoke  a 
few  words  in  French  to  the  pretty  nun. 
But  now,  and  as  often  as  he  addressed  her, 
she  drew  herself  shyly  back,  apparently  not 
from  timidity,  but  with  a  nervous  involun- 
tary shrinking  into  herself. 

The  breakfast-room,  school-room,  and 
music-room,  and  the  large  dormitories 
were  shown  to  the  strangers,  and  they 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


3 


admired  the  neatness  and  good  order 
everywhere  seen.  Especially  in  the  sleep- 
ing-rooms everything  was  arranged  as 
prettily  and  neatly,  as  if  not  real  human 
beings,  much  less  careless  children,  inhabit- 
ed them,  but  as  if  everything  had  been 
made  ready  for  fairy  visitants.  In  one  little 
bed  only  was  there  any  disturbance.  Lina 
drew  back  the  curtain,  and  a  child  with 
great  brown  eyes  looked  up.  The  young 
man  had  also  come  to  the  bedside.  "What 
is  the  matter  with  the  child  ?  "  asked  Lina. 
"Only  homesickness."  "Only  homesick- 
ness," said  the  stranger  in  a  low  tone  to 
himself,  while  the  lady  asked,  "How  do 
you  cure  homesickness?"  "The  house- 
keeper has  a  sure  method ;  a  child  com- 
plaining of  homesickness  is  put  on  the  sick- 
list,  and  must  stay  in  bed  ;  when  she  is  al- 
lowed to  get  up,  the  homesickness  is  gone, 
and  she  feels  at  home."  "  Go  away,  all  of 
you !  go  away !  I  want  Manna,  I  want 
Manna,"  moaned  the  child.  "  She  will 
come  soon,"  said  the  nun,  soothingly,  add- 
ing in  explanation,  "  No  one  but  an  Amer- 
ican girl  can  pacify  the  child."  "  That  must 
be  our  Manna,"  said  Lina  to  her  mother. 
The  twilight  was  gathering,  and  through 
the  galleries,  in  the  golden  evening  light, 
strange  forms  rustled  in  long  green,  blue, 
and  red  garments,  and  then  vanished  within 
the  cells. 

The  visitors  went  into  the  dining-room, 
at  the  farther  end  of  which  there  was  the 
representation  of  a  forest  scene  with  a  her- 
mitage ;  and  there  lay  a  doe  bound  with  a 
red  cord.  The  young  creature  fixed  its 
great  eyes  on  the  strangers,  and  tugging  at 
its  cord,  tried  to  get  away. 

The  French  nun  said  that  the  children, 
aided  by  one  of  the  sisters  who  had  a  nat- 
ural talent  that  way,  had  themselves  ar- 
ranged the  decorations.  Large  choirs  had 
been  practicing,  and  one  of  the  pupils,  a 
very  remarkable  child,  had  composed  the 
piece  which  represented  a  scene  from  the 
life  of  the  Superior's  patron  saint. 

The  German  nun  regretted  that  no  stran- 
ger could  be  present.  A  copy  of  the  song 
to  be  introduced  in  the  play  was  lying  upon 
a  chair.  The  lady,  taking  it  up,  read  it 
and  handed  it  over  to  the  young  man,*  who 
ran  through  the  verses.  "  It's  astonishing 
that  a  child  should  have  composed  them," 
said  the  lady.  The  young  stranger  felt 
obliged  to  make  some  reply,  and  observed 
in  a  somewhat  careless  tone,  "  Our  Ger- 
man language,  especially  when  used  in 
rhyming,  is  an  instrument  that  can  easily  be 
drummed  upon,  and  thrummed  upon,  by 
any  child." 

"  I  told  you  so ;  he  is  a  poet,"  said 


the  triumphant  look  of  the  gpirl  to  her  pa- 
rents. 

As  they  were  leaving  the  dining-hall,  now 
turned  into  a  temporary  theatre,  Lina  re- 
marked to  the  pretty  Frenchwoman  how 
sorry  she  was  not  to  be  able  to  see  her 
young  friend,  Hermanna  Sonnenkamp  ;  she 
herself  was  obliged  to  return  that  very  eve- 
ning with  her  parents,  as  they  had  been  in- 
vited to  attend,  to-morrow  afternoon,  a 
reception  at  the  Countess  von  Wolfsgar- 
ten's. 

The  girl  said  this  with  a  proud  emphasis, 
as  if  assured  that  every  one  must  know 
what  was  the  full  significance  of  a  reception 
at  Count  von  Wolfsgarten's.  The  French- 
woman must  have  noticed  it,  for  she  replied, 
"Here,  on  the  contrary,  we  do  not  know 
each  other  by  the  names  applied  to  us  in 
the  world  outside ;  we  here  know  only  our 
convent  names." 

"May  I  know  yours?"  "Certainly;  I 
am  called  sister  Seraphia.11  The  girl  seemed 
now  on  more  intimate  terms  with  the  French 
sister,  since  she  could  call  her  "  sister  Se- 
raphia ;  "  and  she  rejoiced  at  the  thought  of 
being  able  to  tell  at  home,  in  her  own  little 
town,  about  the  nun  of  high  rank,  at  least  a 
princess,  whose  acquaintance  she  had  made. 
They  walked  back  through  the  long  gal- 
lery, and  as  they  went  down  the  steps, 
there  came  up  a  snow-white  form  with  great 
wings  on  its  shoulders,  and  a  glittering  dia- 
dem on  its  head,  from  which  long  black 
ringlets  streamed  down  over  bosom  and 
neck.  Deep,  black  eyes,  with  long  lashes 
and  thick  brows,  gleamed  out  of  the  pale 
countenance.  "Manna!"  cried  Lina,  and 
"Manna!"  echoed  the  vaulted  ceiling. 
The  winged  apparition  grasped  the  hand 
of  the  speaker,  and  leading  her  aside  down 
the  stairs  said,  "Is  it  you,  dear  Lina? 
Ah,  I  have  only  been  with  a  poor  child  pin- 
ing with  homesickness ;  to-day  I  cannot 
speak  a  word  with  any  other  living  soul." 

"  O,  how  wonderful  you  look  !  how  splen- 
did !  To  the  child  you  must  be  a  real  live 
angel  !  And  how  glad  they  will  all  be  at 
home,  when  I  tell  them." 

"Not  a  word  about  it.  Excuse  me  to 
your  parents  for  flitting  by  them,  and  — 
who,  who  is  the  young  man  here  with 
you  ?  " 

The  stranger  seemed  aware  that  they 
were  talking  about  him,  and  looked  from 
below  up  to  the  wonderful  vision.  He 
shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  to  take  a 
better  look,  but  he  could  see  none  of  the 
features,  nothing  but  the  mysterious  shape 
and  the  two  gleaming  eyes. 

"  We  don't  know  who  he  is  ;  he  joined  us 
first  in  the  boat  ;  but,"  she  added,  smiling 


4 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


at  her  own  •suggestion,  "you  can  find 
out,  for  he  sent  a  greeting  from  his  mother 
to  the  Superior ;  ask  her  by  and  by.  Don't 
you  think  him  handsome  ?  11 

"  O  Lina !  how  you  talk !  May  the 
Holy  St.  Genevieve  intercede  with  the  dear 
God  to  pardon  you  for  saying  that,  and  me  " 
—  covering  her  face  with  her  hands  —  "  for 
hearing  it.  Farewell,  Lina,  greet  every 
one  for  me.11 

As  the  Avinged  apparition  swept  along  the 
corridor,  she  was  unable  to  hear  Lina 
calling  out  that  she  would,  to-morrow, 
tell  them  at  the  Countess  Wolfsgarten's 
all  about  her.  The  vision  vanished.  They 
left  the  convent,  and  at  the  door  the  old 
gentleman  said  to  the  young  man,  "It  is  a 
good  thing  for  girls  to  be  educated  in  a 
convent  on  an  island,  away  from  the  rest 
of  the  world."  "  Girls  at  the  convent,  and 
boys  at  the  barracks !  fine  world  that !  " 
answered  the  young  man,  in  a  sharp  tone. 

Without  a  word  in  reply,  the  old  gentle- 
man, turning  away,  drew  off  a  few  paces 
with  the  ladies  as  if  he  wished  to  have  no 
further  intercourse  with  a  stranger  of  such 
revolutionary  sentiments.  The  stranger 
hastened  to  the  boat,  and  was  speedily  set 
across.  The  stream  was  like  pure,  molten 
gold,  and  the  stranger  dipping  his  fingers 
into  it  bathed  his  forehead  and  eyes.  He 
sprang  lightly  ashore,  and  looking  over  to 
the  island-convent,  saw  the  man,  with  wife 
and  daughter,  just  going  down  to  the  boat ; 
he  waved  a  distant  farewell  with  his  hat,  and 
with  a  rapid  step  went  up  the  hill  behind 
the  ruins  of  the  castle,  overlooking  the 
convent.  He  continued  sitting  there  for  a 
long  time,  gazing  fixedly  at  the  convent  on 
the  island.  He  heard  songs  from  maiden 
voices,  saw  the  long  row  of  windows  bright- 
ly lighted  up,  and  at  last,  looking  up  to  the 
stars,  he  exclaimed,  "  O  mother  !  " 

What  did  that  mean  ?  Perhaps  his  mo- 
ther had  said  to  him,  that  at  some  time  or 
other  a  wonderful  experience  would  come 
over  him.  The  nightingale  in  the  thicket 
sang  on  unceasingly,  and  the  young  man 
listened  to  the  song,  but  would  gladly  have 
silenced  it  in  order  that  he  might  hear  more 
plainly  the  singing  of  the  children  in  the 
convent,  who  with  magic  power  had  con- 
jured up  a  dream  of  heaven  into  their  ac- 
tual life,  and  for  one  hour  become  choirs  of 
singing  angels.  "Alone  in  the  spring  night, 
amidst  the  Castle-ruins  with  beating  heart ! 
Can  it  be  I  ?  "  said  the  young  man  to  him- 
self. 

He  descended  the  hill,  and  as  he  reached 
the  inn,  met  the  man  with  the  two  women 
just  ready  to  start  for  the  rail- road  station. 
He  would  have  liked  to  ask  the  girl  who 


that  wonderful  apparition  was,  but  he  re- 
strained himself.  What  would  be  the  use  ?  " 
Better  that  thou  knowest  her  not ;  then  the 
charm  of  the  vision  is  pure  and  undisturbed. 
He  went  into  the  inn ;  he  sat  there  and 
read  the  bill  of  fare  without  knowing  what 
he  was  reading,  and  what  he  should  select. 
He  stared  at  the  card  until  the  waiter  came 
and  asked  for  it,  in  order  to  give  it  to  an- 
other guest.  He  ordered  what  happened  to 
meet  his  eye.  "  What  wine  would  you  like  ? 
We  have  '  Drachenblut '  of  a  choice  vin- 
tage."   "  Bring  some  Drachenblut." 

He  ate  and  drank  without  knowing  what ; 
he  only  knew  that  he  must  eat  and  drink  some- 
thing ;  absently  he  took  up  a  newspaper  lying 
upon  the  table.  What  are  convents?  what 
are  ruined  castles  ?  what  is  the  apparition  of 
a  girl  with  wings  ?  Here  is  the  world,  the 
real,  the  stirring,  the  actual  world  of 
to-day.  You  come  into  an  inn,  weary 
after  a  wide  survey  from  a  mountain 
top,  and  involuntarily  you  lay  hold  of 
a  newspaper,  —  why  is  this  ?  It  may  be  that 
the  eye  and  the  mind,  tired  out  by  the  mani- 
festations of  unmoving  nature,  become  re- 
freshed by  viewing  what  is  perpetually  chang- 
ing in  the  world ;  you  are  alone,  you  need 
to  hear  some  word  spoken  by  one  to  many, 
and  the  newspaper  tells  you  about  the  world 
which  has  kept  on  its  way  Avhile  you  were 
dreaming,  while  you  were  losing  yourself 
in  the  boundless  prospect,  and  coming  to 
yourself  again. 

Yes,  it  is  so  now !  How  it  was  in  other 
times,  when  one  could  live  on  in  undisturbed 
dreaminess,  we  can  hardly  imagine.  At  all 
times  — whether  in  the  pressure  of  heavy  af- 
fliction, when  our  own  life  has  become  a  bur- 
den, and  the  world  indifferent,  or  in  exalted 
feeling,  when  we  are  transported,  as  it  were, 
out  of  all  actual  existence  —  the  newspaper 
comes,  and  demands  our  attention,  and 
calls  to  us  as  if  we  were  to  cooperate  every- 
where in  the  various  relations  of  the  world. 

What  has  America  to  do  with  the  young 
man  ?  and  yet  he  has  just  read  an  account 
of  matters  there  ;  the  choice  of  a  new  Pres- 
ident of  the  Republic  was  exciting  all  minds 
in  the  New  World,  and  the  name  of  a  man 
who  was  a  pattern  of  uprightness  and  world- 
wide views,  Abraham  Lincoln,  seemed  to 
penetrate  everywhere,  and  to  bring  with  it 
a  great  crisis  in  the  history  of  humanity. 
Deeply  interested,  he  looked  up  smiling, 
for  he  remembered  that  the  Frenchwoman 
had  said  that  an  American  girl  could  alone 
console  the  homesick  child,  and  that  she 
had  also  composed  the  play  for  the  festival. 
Here  a  child  plays  with  sacred  stories, 
whilst  all  is  in  commotion  in  her  Fatherland. 
The  thoughts  of  the  young  man  were  again 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


in  the  convent,  and  with  the  wonderful  ap- 
parition. 

Just  as  he  was  laving  down  the  paper, 
his  eye  fell  upon  an  advertisement.  He 
knit  his  brows,  looked  around,  and  read 
again ;  then  asking  permission  to  keep  the 
paper,  he  carried  it  with  him  to  his  cham- 
ber. "  A  handsome  man,"  said  the  guests, 
after  he  had  gone ;  ' '  evidently  a  young 
widower,  who  wishes  to  find  distraction 
from  his  grief  in  a  Rhine-journey  ;  he  wears 
a  weed  on  his  hat." 

CHAPTER  II. 
"  UP  TILE  RIVER." 

"Name:  E#c  Dournay.  Title:  Doctor 
of  Philosophy,  late  Army-Captain.  Place 
of  departure :  name  of  a  small  Univer- 
sity city.  Destination:   Object  of  Jour- 
ney :  " 

Such  was  the  entry  made  by  the  young 
man  in  the  register  of  the  inn  early  the 
next  morning ;  and  he  now  first  noticed 
written  above  his  name,  "Justice  Vogt, 
Lady,  nee  Landen,  and  Daughter,  from  "  — 
a  small  town  on  the  Upper  Rhine.  That 
was  then  the  mottled  gentleman  of  yester- 
day with  the  two  ladies. 

Eric,  for  so  we  shall  hereafter  call  him, 
carrying  his  small  valise,  went  down  to  the 
steamboat-landing.  The  morning  was  fresh 
and  bright,  life  and  song  everywhere,  and 
only  one  little  cloud,  like  a  slight  streak  of 
mist  resting  half  way  up  the  mountain- 
side. Eric  walked  with  a  firm  and  erect 
step,  taking  in  full  draughts  of  the  fresh 
morning  air.  He  stood  at  the  landing,  and 
looked  into  the  water,  from  which  a  streak 
of  mist  rose,  and  became  dissolved  in  the 
air.  Then  he  gazed  long  at  the  island, 
where  the  morning  bell  was  ringing  to  wake 
up  the  children,  who  had  been  transformed 
the  previous  evening  into  legendary  beings. 
How  would  that  girl  with  long,  black  hair 
and  glittering  wings  open  her  bright  eyes  ? 
As  if  he  must  drive  away  this  image,  Eric 
took  the  paper  out  of  his  pocket,  and  read 
again  the  advertisement.  On  came  the 
puffing  steam-boat  pressing  her  bow  against 
the  stream. 

Eric  had  not  noticed  that  two  of  the  con- 
vent nuns,  one  of  whom  was  the  pretty 
Frenchwoman,  had  been  also  waiting  for  the 
approaching  boat.  He  did  not  see  them 
until  after  they  had  got  on  board.  He 
gave  them  a  salutation,  but  received  no  re- 
sponse except  a  look  of  surprise.  They 
took  their  breviary,  sat  down  upon  the  deck 
and  said  their  prayers.  On  seeing  them, 
Eric  thought  he  would  ask  who  the  girl  was 
with  the  wings  ;  but  he  came  to  the  conclu- 


5 

I  sion  not  to  do  so,  for  no  result  could  come 
from  this  occurrence,  and  he  .wished  to  con- 
centrate all  his  energies  upon  the  project 
he  had  in  view.  There  were  but  few  fel- 
low passengers,  and  the  morning  hour  does 
not  encourage  sociability,  as  if  the  solitude 
of  sleep  has  yet  an  influence  over  human 
souls. 

Eric  stationed  himself  near  the  helmsman, 
who  whistled  incessantly  in  a  low  tone : 
and  lost  in  thought  he  looked  at  the  up- 
heaved water  and  the  shore.  Pressing  to- 
gether his  finely  cut  lips,  he  seemed  deter- 
mined silently  to  take  in  the  full  poetic  beau- 
ty of  this  river  and  landscape  that  has  never 
been  adequately  portrayed,  and  often  shook 
his  head  as  he  heard  two  persons  here  and 
there  wasting  in  so-called  conversation  the 
freshness  of  the  morning  and  the  quiet,  in- 
spiring influence  of  the  scenery.  We  shall 
often  have  occasion  as  we  proceed,  to  im- 
part information  about  this  youth.  At 
present  we  will  premise  that  Eric,  the  son 
of  respectable  parents,  receiving  a  careful 
education,  entered  the  military  service, 
and  then,  voluntarily  resigning  his  commis- 
sion, devoted  himself  to  study.  He  had 
just  obtained  his  doctors  degree,  working 
very  hard  to  hasten  this  event,  for  only 
two  months  had  elapsed  since  the  death  of 
his  father.  On  the  evening  of  the  day  he 
had  taken  his  degree,  his  mother  urged  him 
to  allow  himself  a  few  days'  recreation. 
Stroking  his  pale,  thin  face,  she  said,  "  You 
will  regain  the  fresh  color  of  life  ;  life  and 
work  are  one's  duty ;  that  was  always  what 
your  father  said  and  did." 

It  was  to  be  determined  when  Eric  re- 
turned what  plan  of  life  they  would  adopt. 
The  thought,  which  she  could  not  keep 
down,  was  very  painful  to  the  mother,  that 
they  could  no  longer  continue  in  their  for- 
mer mode  of  life  without  care  and  responsi- 
bility, but  must  make  provision  for  the 
future,  a  state  of  things  never  contem- 
plated by  her.  And  with  pain  that  she 
sought  to  repress,  but  could  not  wholly  con- 
ceal, calling  to  mind  a  saying  of  Lessing, 
she  saw  her  son  standing  in  the  market- 
place and  asking  for  work.  Moreover,  she 
hoped  that  her  son  would  consent  finally  to 
receive  some  position  through  patronage ; 
at  any  rate  he  must  again  recover  his  fresh, 
youthful  looks.  Had  the  mother  seen  him 
now,  she  would  have  been  astonished  to  see 
how  quickly  that  had  taken  place ;  for  a 
brightness  shone  in  his  eye,  and  a  color  in 
his  countenance  more  briiliant  and  glowing 
than  in  his  best  and  most  tranquil  days. 

For  the  sake  of  giving  some  special  ob- 
ject to  his  journey,  she  had  commissioned 
him  to  carry  her  greeting  to  the  Superior 


6 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


of  the  convent.  He  was  now  on  his  return, 
for  a  simple  newspaper  advertisement  had 
given  an  unexpected  direction  to  his  jour- 
ney and  his  purposes. 

Wonderful !  thought  Eric  to  himself, 
placing  his  hand  upon  the  breast  pocket 
containing  the  newspaper,  wonderful,  how 
the  calls  are  given  which  send  forth  here 
and  there  the  adventurous  Ulysses  ! 

Meanwhile  he  had  sufficient  youthful  elas- 
ticity not  to  neglect,  for  the  sake  of  the 
goal,  the  pleasures  to  be  enjoyed  by  the 
way.  He  watched  with  an  intelligent 
•glance  the  machinery  of  the  boat,  and  the 
life  on  the  river  and  on  the  banks.  At  the 
second  landing  the  two  nuns  were  to  stop, 
and  the  pretty  Frenchwoman  gave  him  a 
backward  nod,  as  she  descended  the  side 
ladder.  When  in  the  boat  she  sat  looking 
down  with  folded  hands ;  and  on  landing, 
she  gave  no  further  look  behind. 

The  passengers  changed  at  every  land- 
ing. At  one  village  came  a  band  of  pil- 
grims, chiefly  women  with  white  kerchiefs 
on  their  heads  ;  and  when  they  disembarked, 
a  troop  of  Turners  came  on  board,  in  their 
light  gray  uniform,  and  immediately  struck 
up  a  song  upon  the  deck,  whilst  the  pil- 
grims sang  upon  the  shore.  In  all  the  cit- 
ies and  villages  they  passed  bells  were 
ringing  on  that  bright  spring  day  full  of 
blossoms  and  sweet  sounds,  and  Eric  felt 
all  that  intoxication  which  the  Rhine-life 
brings  over  the  spirit, —  that  exhilaration 
of  every  faculty,  which  comes  no  one  knows 
whence,  as  no  one  can  say  what  gives  to 
the  wine  of  these  mountains  its  flavor  and 
its  life.  It  is  the  breath  of  the  stream ;  it 
is  the  fragrance  of  the  mountains ;  it  is 
the  virtue  of  the  soil ;  it  is  the  sunlight 
that  glows  in  man  as  in  the  wine,  and  ex- 
cites an  ethereal  gladness  which  no  one  can 
be  free  from,  and  which  no  one  can  explain. 

Eric  was  often  spoken  to,  but  he  held 
himself  aloof  from  all  companionship,  wish- 
ing in  the  movement  around  him  to  be 
alone  with  the  delightful  landscape.  There 
are  words  which  become  poles  of  thought 
in  the  meditation  of  the  lonely.  Eric 
heard  one  fellow  traveller  say  to  another, 

"I  prefer  to  go  up  the  river,  for  one 
can  look  at  everything  longer  and  more 
closely,  and  it  is  a  triumph  of  the  human 
mind  that  we  can  make  headway  against 
the  current.1' 

Against  the  current !  That  was  the  word 
which  that  day  stuck  fast  to  Eric  out  of  the 
thousand  things  he  thought  of  and  looked 
upon.  Against  the  stream  !  That  was  al- 
so his  life-course.  He  had  left  the  trodden 
highway,  and  with  bold  self-determination 
he  had  marked  out  a  path  of  his  own.  It 


is  well,  for  one  there  learns  more  perfectly 
the  world  about  him,  and,  above  all,  learns 
his  own  strength. 

"  Against  the  current !  "  said  he,  smiling 
to  himself.  "Let  us  see  what  will  come  of 
it."  It  was  high  noon  when  he  disem- 
barked at  a  little  mediseval  city. 

A  young  man  standing  on  the  shore 
looked  sharply  at  him,  exclaiming,  "  Dour- 
nay  !  "  "Herr  von  Pranken!"  answered 
Eric.    They  grasped  each  other's  hands. 

CHAPTER  III. 
DRINKING  NEW  WINE. 

"  Before  people  have  fairly  done  shak- 
ing hands,  they  say,  '  Let  us  #rink.'  It  must 
be  the  river  there  that  makes  you  long  so 
to  quench  your  thirst." 

So  spoke  Eric  to  the  tall,  fair  youth  of 
his  own  age,  sitting  opposite,  who  had 
placed  his  nicely  gloved  hand  upon  a  brown 
spaniel  whose  head  lay  in  his  lap.  The 
dog  frequently  looked  up  to  Eric,  whose 
deep,  musical  voice  perhaps  produced  an 
impression  upon  the  creature. 

"  Here  is  the  list  of  wines.  What  year 
and  what  vintage  do  you  prefer?  Shall 
we  take  new  wine,  still  lively  and  ferment- 
ing?" "Yes,  new  wine,  and  from  the 
mountain  here  upon  which  the  sun  lies  so 
cheerily,  and  where  the  cuckoo  calls  from 
the  wood; — wine  native  to  the  soil,  and 
blood- relation  of  this  beautiful  region." 

Pranken  in  sharp,  military  accent  gave 
the  order  to  the  waiter, —  "A  bottle  of 
Auslese."  The  wine  came,  and  was  poured 
out  golden  into  the  sparkling  glasses ;  the 
two  men  touched  glasses  and  drank.  They 
sat  among  the  vines  by  the  shore,  where 
the  refreshing  landscape  stretched  itself 
out  over  green  islands  in  the  river,  over 
gleaming  habitations,  over  vineyards  and 
mountains. 

The  boats  by  the  shore  were  still,  for  the 
swell  made  by  the  steamboat  had  subsided  ; 
here  and  there  the  distant  rumbling  of  a  rail- 
way train  was  heard  ;  on  the  smooth  stream, 
in  which  the  white  clouds  of  heaven  mirrored 
themselves,  beams  of  the  noonday  sun 
sparkled,  and  in  the  foliage  of  the  blossom- 
ing elder  the  nightingale  sang. 

"This  is  life!"  said  Eric,  extending  his 
arms.  "After  a  day  of  loneliness  amidst 
the  confused  whirl  of  thoughts  and  of  peo- 
ple, to  meet  thus  unexpectedly  an  old  ac- 
quaintance is  indeed  like  home ;  and  let 
me  tell  you,  moreover,  that  I  look  upon 
this  meeting  as  a  good  omen." 

Otto  von  Pranken  nodded  acquiescingly. 
In  the  first  surprise,  he  had,  perhaps,  given 
Eric  a  warmer  welcome  than  their  ac- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


7 


quaintance  warranted ;  but  now  that  Eric 
made  no  assumption  of  intimacy  he  nodded, 
well  pleased.  Eric  has  the  tact  to  know  his 
place  ;  it's  well.  Pranken  immediately  drew 
off  his  glove,  and  reaching  out  his  hand  to 
Eric,  asked,  "Are  you  taking  a  pleasure- 
tour  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  not  in  the  situation,  nor  would 
this  be  the  fitting  time  to  do  so.  You  prob- 
ably do  not  know  that  my  father  died  two 
months  ago."  "Indeed,  indeed!  and  I 
shall  be  forever  grateful  to  our  good  Pro- 
fessor ;  the  little  that  I  learned  at  the  mil- 
itary school  —  and  it  is  little  enough —  I  owe 
altogether  to  him.  Ah  !  what  patience  and 
what  unremitting  zeal  your  good  father 
had  !  Let  us  pledge  his  memory.'"  Their 
glasses  clinked.  "  When  I  am  dead,"  said 
Eric,  and  his  voice  had  a  tone  of  deep  emo- 
tion, "I  should  like  that  my  son  should 
thus  with  a  companion  pledge  my  memory 
in  the  bright  noonday." 

' 1  Ah  !  to  die  !  "  Pranken  wished  to  turn 
the  subject.  "  If  I  must  die,  that's  enough, 
without  knowing  what  is  said  of  me  after- 
wards. It  is  in  a  high  degree  offensive 
to  me,  that  they  have  placed  their  burying 
ground  in  the  midst  of  the  vineyard  yonder." 

Eric  made  no  reply,  looking  with  fixed 
gaze  before  him,  and  listening  to  the 
cuckoo's  voice  calling  at  that  moment  from 
the  churchyard.  "Are  you  an  agricul- 
turist ?  "  he  asked,  as  if  summoning  together 
his  scattered  thoughts.  "  A  so*rt  of  one  ;  I 
have  taken  off,  I  don't  know  for  how  long 
it  will  be,  my  lieutenant's  uniform,  and 
mounted  the  high  jack-boots ;  but  I  am 
bored  by  the  one  as  much  as  by  the  other." 
He  took  his  nail-cleaner  out  of  his  pocket, 
and  worked  away  industriously  at  his  nails  ; 
then  .with  his  pocket-brush  he  smoothed 
down  again  his  carefully  parted  but  thin 
hair,  occasionally  looking  up  to  his,  com- 
panion opposite. 

The  two,  sitting  there  for  a  little  while 
without  speaking,  sharply  inspected  each 
other.  Two  awkward  people,  who  are 
placed  in  a  position  of  helpless  antagonism, 
become  mutually  embarrassed ;  two  clever 
people,  who  know  each  other's  cleverness, 
are  like  two  fencers,  who,  familiar  with  each 
other's  ward  and  pass,  will  not  risk  a  stroke 
or  thrust.  Pranken  bent  over  his  glass, 
inhaled  the  bouquet  of  the  wine,  and  6aid, 
at  length,  half  smiling,  "Perhaps  you  will 
now  abandon  your  late  Communistic  views." 

"  Communistic!  I  had  no  idea  that  you, 
like  so  many  others,  cover  up  everything 
unpleasant  with  that  convenient  formula  of 
excommunication,  '  Communism.1  I  should 
like  to  be  a  Communist.  I  mean  that  I 
should  like  to  see  in  Communism  a  form 


of  organization  adapted  to  the  wants  of  soci- 
ety, which  it  is  not,  and  never  can  be.  We 
must  take  some  other  method  than  this,  to 
get  rid  of  the  existing  barbarism  which 
compels  our  fellow  human  beings  to  be 
without  the  most  common  necessities  of 
life.  It  is  a  bitter  drop  in  my  glass,  that, 
while  I  can  here  at  leisure  drink  this  moun- 
tain-wine, yonder  are  poor  hard-driven  la- 
borers who  can  never  taste  of  it." 

"  To-day  is  a  holiday,  and  no  one  labors 
then,"  said  Pranken,  with  a  laugh.  Already, 
in  this  first  meeting,  the  contrast  of  these 
two  young  men  was  plainly  to  be  seen. 
Eric  also  laughed  at  this  unexpected  turn1 
from  his  comrade ;  but  he  was  mature 
enough  not  to  make  a  personal  matter  out 
of  a  difference  of  theory.  He  therefore  came 
back  to  neutral  ground,  and  the  conversa- 
tion flowed  on  quietly  in  recollections  of 
the  past,  and  thoughts  of  the  future. 

In  their  carriage  and  gait,  the  military 
training  of  the  two  young  men  was  plainly 
to  be  seen ;  but  in  Eric  the  stiffness  was 
tempered  by  a  sort  of  artistic  grace.  Pran- 
ken was  elegant,  Eric  noble  and  refined ; 
every  tone  and  movement  of  Pranken  be- 
spoke attention  ;  but  his  demeanor  had 
that  cool  insolence,  or  —  if  that  is  too  harsh 
a  word  —  impertinence,  which  regards  every 
one  outside  of  one's  circle  as  non-existent, 
or  at  least  as  having  no  right  to  exist. 

Eric  had  an  equally  good  figure,  but  he 
was  more  easy  and  dignified.  Eric's  voice 
was  a  fine,  deep  baritone,  while  Pranken's 
was  a  tenor.  Their  different  characters 
could  be  seen  also  in  their  way  of  speaking. 
Eric  pronounced  every  word  and  letter  dis- 
tinctly ;  Pranken,  on  the  other  hand,  spoke 
with  a  lazy  drawl,  as  if  the  vowels  and  con- 
sonants were  too  much  for  him,  and  as  if 
he  must  avoid  all  straining  of  the  organs  of 
speech ;  the  wor$s  dropped,  as  it  were, 
out  of  his  lips,  and  yet  he  liked  to  talk,  and 
made  excellent  points.  Pranken's  remarks 
were  forcible,  and  came  out  in  jets,  like  the 
short  canter  peculiar  to  the  Royal  body- 
guard. When  talking  upon  the  most  ordi- 
nary occurrence,  his  manner  was  somewhat 
rattling  and  noisy,  like  one  handling  his 
shoulder-belt,  and  joining  or  leaving  a  con- 
vivial company.  Eric  had  thought  more 
than  he  had  talked.  A  secluded  student 
in  the  almost  cloister-like  retirement  of 
home,  this  bearing  was  wholly  novel  and 
strange  to  him. 

"  Herr  Baron,"  said  the  waiter,  as  he 
brought  in  a  bottle  of  native,  sparkling 
wine,  "  your  coachman  wishes  to  know  if 
he  shall  unharness  the  horses." 

"No,"  he  replied;  and  while  he  was 
turning  the  bottle  in  the  wine-cooler  he 


8 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


added  to  Eric:  "I  dislike  to  interrupt  the 
brief  joy  of  this  meeting  with  you.  Ah! 
you  have  no  idea  what  a  terrible  bore  this 
extolled  poetry  of  rural  life  is  !  "  Pouring 
out  a  glass  from  the  uncorked  bottle,  he 
said  laughing,  "  Compost,  and  again  com- 
post, is  the  word.  The  compost-heap  is 
an  Olympus,  and  the  God  enthroned  upon 
it  is  called  Jupiter  Ammonia."  Pranken 
laughed  aloud  at  his  own  witty  outburst, 
then  drank  olf  his  glass,  and  complacently 
twirled  with  both  hands  the  ends  of  his 
moustache.  • 

Eric  led  the  conversation  back  to  the 
*beauty  of  the  Rhine-life,  but  Pranken  in- 
terrupted by  saying,  "If  now  somebody 
would  only  take  off  the  paint  from  this  ly- 
ing Lorelei,  with  her  song  about  the  beauty 
of  life  on  the  Rhine  !  So  the  poets  always 
speak  of  the  dewy  morning,  and  we  had 
to-day  a  blast  from  the  mountains,  as  if  the 
angels  in  heaven  had  spilt  all  their  milk 
into  the  fire." 

Eric  could  not  help  laughing ;  sipping  at 
his  glass,  he  said,  "But  the  joy  of  the 
wioe  !  "  "  O,  yes,"  replied  Pranken,  "  the 
old  topers  drink  as  a  matter  of  business, 
but  without  any  poetry.  They  sit  together 
by  the  hour,  always  the  same  set,  and  the 
same  half-dozen  anecdotes  on  hand ;  or 
they  interchange  a  superannuated  jest,  and 
then  go  home  with  red  face,  and  staggering 
feet,  bellowing  forth  a  song ;  and  that  they 
call  Rhine  joyousness  !  The  one  really 
merry  thing  in  this  whole  Rhine-delusion 
is  the  landlord's  garland.  "  What's  that  ?  " 
"When  the  respectable  godfather  tailor 
or  shoemaker  has  laid  in  a  cask  of  choice 
vintage,  more  than  he  can  or  wishes  to 
drink,  he  hangs  upon  his  house  a  green  gar- 
land ;  and  the  old  German  family  room, 
with  its  hospitable  Dutch  stove  covered  with 
green  branches,  and  its  gray  cat  under  the 
bench,  is  turned  into  a  bar-room.  Every 
one  is  on  hand  from  Smith  street,  Hare 
street,  Church  street,  Salt  street,  and  Capu- 
chin street.  They  drink  the  health  of  their 
own  wine ;  this  is  the  only  mistress." 

"Let  us,  too,  rejoice  in  our  wine,"  said 
Eric.  "  See  how  the  sun  still  glows  in  the 
noble  juice  which  it  has  so  joyfully  smiled 
upon,  and  so  diligently  ripened.  I  drink 
to  thee,  O  Sun,  past  and  present."  With 
a  rapidity  that  seemed  foreign  from  his  or- 
dinarily quiet  mood,  he  emptied  the  glass. 

"  I  have  always  thought,"  replied  Pran- 
ken, "that  you  were  a  poet.  Ah,  I 
envy  you  ;  I  should  like  to  have  the  ability 
to  write  a  satirical  poem,  so  peppered  that 
the  whole  world  would  burn  its  tongue  with 
it."  Eric  smiled,  saying  that  he  had  him- 
self once  thought  that  his  vocation  was  to 


be  a  poet ;  but  that  he  had  perceived  his 
mistake,  and  was  now  resolved  to  devote 
himself  to  some  practical  calling.  "Yes," 
he  said,  taking  the  newspaper  out  of  his 
pocket,  "  you  can  perhaps  render  me  a  ser- 
vice that  will  determine  my  whole  life." 
"  Gladly,  if  it  is  not  against  —  " 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  for  it  has  nothing  to 
do  with  theories  of  right,  or  political  mat- 
ters at  all.  You  can  perhaps  help  me  to 
an  introduction." 

"In  love  then?  The  handsome  Eric 
Dournay,  the  Adonis  of  the  garrison,  wants 
some  one  to  do  his  wooing  ?  " 

"Nothing  of  that  kind.  I  only  want  a 
situation  as  private  tutor.  Look  at  this 
advertisement :  '  I  desire  for  my  son,  fif- 
teen years  of  age,  a  tutor  of  scientific  edu- 
cation and  high-breeding,  who  will  under- 
take to  give  him  such  training  as  shall  fit 
him  for  a  high  station.  Salary  to  be  fixed 
by  mutual  agreement.  A  pension  for  life 
after  the  conclusion  of  the  engagement. 
Address  and  references  to  be  left  at  the 
railroad  station  at  ,  on  the  Rhine.' " 

"I  know  about  this  advertisement,  and 
even  had  a  hand  in  writing  it.  I  must  con- 
fess that  we  hit  upon  something  rather  un- 
usual in  the  choice  of  the  expression  *  high- 
breeding.'  " 

"  Is  a  man  of  rank  to  be  understood  ?  " 

"Certainly.  I  have  no  need  of  defend- 
ing myself  against  the  charge  of  what  the 
newspaper  liacks  call  feudalism.  In  this 
case  the  point  insisted  on  is,  that  a  tutor  in 
a  middle-class  family,  and  especially  for  a 
self-willed  boy,  must  be  a  man  of  unim- 
•peachable  position." 

"  Certainly,  that  is  all  right  and  proper. 
Perhaps,  although  I'm  not  a  Baron,  I  have 
an  unimpeachable  position.  I  received  the 
title  of  doctor  a  few  days  ago." 

Pra/iken  gave  him  a  condescending  nod 
of  congratulation,  then  added  quickly,  — 
"And  do  you  leave  entirely  out  of  sight 
that  you  quit  the  army  with  the  rank  of 
Captain  ?  I  should  lay  special  stress  on 
the  military  training.  But  no,  you  are  not 
fit  for  a  bear-trainer !  The  boy  is  as  un- 
tameable  and  crafty  as  an  American  red- 
skin, and  he  knows  just  where  to  lay  hold 
upon  the  scalp-lock  in  every  character,  as 
he  has  already  proved  on  half  a  dozen  tu- 
tors." "  That  would  only  give  an  addition- 
al charm  to  the  attempt."  "  And  do  you 
know  that  Massa  Sonnenkamp  is  a  million- 
aire, and  the  heir  knows  it  ?  " 

"  That  doesn't  alarm  me,  but  rather  tempts 
me  on."  "Well;  I  will  take  you  myself 
to  the  mysterious  man.  I  have  the  good 
luck  to  stand  high  in  his  favor.  But  no. 
Still  better,  you  shall  go  with  me  first  to 


VHE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


9 


my  brother-in-law's  estate.  You  must  re- 
member my  sister  Bella."  "  Perfectly,  and 
I  accept  your  hospitality.  But  I  would 
rather  you  should  announce  my  visit  to 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  —  it  seems  to  me  I  have 
heard  that  name  before,  but  no  matter  — 
and  let  me  go  to  him  alone."  Pranken 
threw  a  questioning  glance  upon  Eric,  who 
continued:  "I  know  how  to  appreciate 
your  ready  friendliness  ;  but  a  stranger  can 
never  quite  do  himself  justice  in  presence 
of  a  third  person." 

Pranken  smiled  at  Eric's  quickness,  feel- 
ing a  sort  of  pride  in  having  so  cultivated 
a  man  under  his  patronage.  He  took  out 
his  pocket-book,  and  sat  for  a  while  with  his 
silver  pencil-case  pressed  against  his  lips ; 
the  doubt  arose  whether  he  were  doing 
wisely  to  recommend  Eric  to  the  position ; 
would  it  not  be  better  to  put  him  off,  and 
bring  forward  a  man  who  would  be  quite 
under  his  own  influence  ?  but  as  Eric  would 


make  the  application  for  himself,  and  would, 
most  probably,  receive  the  appointment,  it 
would  be  better  to  establish  a  claim  to  his 
gratitude.  And  in  the  midst  of  his  hesita- 
tion a  certain  kindly  feeling  made  itself  felt ; 
it  was  pleasant  to  be  able  to  be  a  benefac- 
tor, and  he  was  for  a  moment  happy  in  the 
thought. 

He  wrote  directly  on  a  card  to  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp, begging  him  to  make  no  engage- 
ment, as  a  highly  educated  gentleman, 
formerly  an  artillery  officer,  was  about 
to  apply  in  person  for  the  situation.  He 
carefully  avoided  speaking  as  a  personal 
friend  of  the  applicant,  as  he  wished  to  take 
no  decided  step  without  his  sister's  ap- 
proval. 

The  card  was  sent  off  immediately,  and 
Pranken  played  for  some  minutes  with  the 
india-rubber  strap  of  his  pocket-book,  be- 
fore putting  it  back  into  his  pocket. 


10 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
COMRADES  WITHOUT  COMRADESHIP. 

Seated  in  an  open  carriage,  the  two 
young  men  were  soon  winding  along  a  road 
which  led  up  the  mountain.  The  air  was 
full  of  dewy  freshness,  and  high  above  the 
vineyards  the  nightingales  in  the  leafy 
woods  poured  forth  a  constant  flood  of 
melody.  The  two  men  sat  silent.  Each 
knew  that  the  other  had  come  within  the 
circle  of  his  destiny,  but  could  not  antici- 
pate what  would  be  the  consequence. 

Eric  took  off  his  hat,  and  as  Pranken 
looked  at  his  handsome  face  with  its  com- 
manding, sell-reliant  expression,  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  had  never  really  seen  it  be- 
fore ;  a  thrill  of  alarm  passed  through  him, 
as  he  began  to  realize  that  he  was  forming  j 
ties  whose  results  could  not  be  foreseen. 
His  face  now  darkened  wiih  anger  and 
s'corn,  now  brightened  with  benevolence 
and  good-humored  smiles  ;  he  murmured  to 
himself  some  unintelligible  words,  and ' 
burst  forth  at  intervals  into  an  inexplicable 
fit  of  laughter. 

"  It  is  truly  astonishing,  most  astonish-' 
ing  !  "  he  said  to  himself.    "  I  could  hardly  < 
have  believed  it  of  you,  my  good  Otto,  that 
you  could  be  so  generous  and  self-forgetful,  j 
so  wholly  and  completely  a  friend.  People 
have  always  told  you,  and  you  have  had 
the  conceit  yourself,  that  through  all  your  j 
whims  you  were  better  than  you  would  own 
to   yourself.    Shame    on   you,   that  you  I 
would  not  recognize  your  innocence  and 
virtue  !    Here  you  are  showing  yourself  a 
friend,  a  brother,  a  most  noble  minister  of  I 
destiny  to  another,  who  is  a  bit  of  human- 
ity, nothing  but  pure  humanity,  in  a  full 
beard.    All  his  thoughts  are  elevated  and 
manly,  but  a  good  salary  pleases  even  his 
noble  manliness. " 

Pranken  laid  his  head  back  on  the  cush- 
ions of  the  carriage,  and  looked  smiling  up 
to  the  sky.  He  resolved  to  take  good  care 
that  this  specimen  of  noble  manhood,  who 
was  sitting  by  him  in  the  carriage,  should 
not  thwart  his  plans,  and  that  what  he  could 
not  bring  about  himself,  his  sister  Bella 
Should  accomplish.  Pranken's  whole  bear- 
ing was  forced  and  unnatural.  His  uni- 
form, worn  ever  since  childhood,  had  given 
him  not  only  a  feeling  of  exclusiveness,  but 
also  a  definite,  undisputed,  and  exceptional 
position,  which  separated  him  from  the  or- 
dinary mass  of  men.  Among  his  fellow- 
soldiers  ho  was  lively,  and  high-spirited ; 
not  specially  remarkable  for  anything,  but 
a  good  officer,  knowing  how  to  take  care 
of  and  to  drill  his  horses  and  his  men. 
Now  that  he  had  laid  aside  his  uniform,  he 


felt  in  citizen's  dress  as  if  he  were  falling  to 
pieces ;  but  he  held  himself  all  the  more 
proudly  erect,  in  order  to  show  by  every 
movement  that  he  did  not  belong  to  the 
common  herd.  In  the  regiment  there  were 
always  strict  rules  to  be  followed ;  now  he 
was  under  the  command  of  duty  and  weari- 
some free-will.  Left  to  himself,  he  became 
painfully  aware  that  he  was  nothing  without 
his  comrades.  Life  appeared  bare  and 
dreary,  and  he  had  worked  himself  into  a 
bitter  and  satirical  mood,  which  gave  him 
in  his  own  eyes,  a  certain  superiority  to  that 
blank,  monotonous  existence,  without  pa- 
rade, or  play,  or  ballet.  He  looked  with  a 
sort  of  envy  at  Eric,  who,  poorer  and 
without  advantages  of  social  position,  gazed 
around  him  so  serenely  and  composedly, 
feasting  on  the  beauty  of  the  landscape. 
Eric  was  certainly  the  better  off.  Having 
become  a  soldier  at  a  more  mature  age,  he 
had  never  lost  his  own  individuality  in  the 
'  esprit  de  corps 1  of  army  life ;  and  now 
that  he  was  a  civilian  again,  his  whole  ap- 
pearance changed,  and  his  nature  developed 
itself  under  a  new  and  interesting  aspect. 

"I  envy  you,"  said  Pranken,  after  they 
had  driven  for  sometime  in  silence. 

' '  You  envy  me  ?  " 

"Yes!  at  first  it  vexed  me  and  roused 
my  pity,  that  a  man  like  you  should  enter 
the  service  of  a  private  individual,  and  in 
such  a  position !  But  perhaps  it  is  fortu- 
nate for  a  man  to  be  obliged  to  determine 
on  some  career  in  order  to  make  a  living.11 

"  Just  for  that  reason,11  replied  Eric,  "  will 
the  task  of  educating  the  young  million- 
aire be  a  hard  one.  Two  things  only  ex- 
cite the  powers  of  men  to  activity :  an  idea, 
and  worldly  gain.11 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  you.11 

"  Let  me  make  my  meaning  clearer.  He 
who  uses  his  power  for  the  sake  of  an  idea 
enters  the  region  of  genius,  however  small 
and  inconspicuous  may  be  the  sphere  of  his 
activity.  He  who  works  for  the  sake  of 
profit,  to  supply  the  necessities,  or  the  lux- 
uries of  life,  is  nothing  but  a  common  la- 
borer. The  common  need  is  the  compel- 
ling power  which  plants  the  vine  on  the 
steep  mountain  side,  clears  the  forest, 
steers  the  ship,  and  drives  the  plough. 
Where  this  common  need  unites  itself  with 
the  ideal,  and  this  may  be  in  every  sphere 
of  life,  there  is  noble  human  activity.  A 
nobleman,  who  busies  himself  in  the  world, 
has  the  good  fortune  to  be  the  inheritor  of 
an  idea, — the  idea  of  honor.11 

Pranken  nodded  approvingly,  but  with  a 
slightly  scornful  expression,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "This  man  to  have  the  audacity  to 
seek  justification  for  the  nobility  !  Nobility 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


11 


and  faith  need  not  be  proved;  they  are 
facts  of  history  not  to  be  questioned  !" 

Again  they  were  silent,  and  each  asked 
himself  what  was  to  come  of  this  unex- 
pected blending  of  their  paths  in  life.  As 
fellow-soldiers  they  had  been  only  remotely 
connected ;  it  might  be  very  different  for  the 
future. 

The  valleys  already  lay  in  shadow, 
though  the  sun  shone  brightly  on  the 
mountain-tops.  They  drove  through  a  vil- 
lage where  all  was  in  joyous  and  tumultuous 
movement,  — in  the  streets,  maidens  walk- 
ing arm  in  arm ;  young  men  standing  sing- 
ly or  in  groups,  exchanging  merry  greet- 
ings and  jokes  and  laughing  jests ;  the 
old  people  sitting  at  the  doors  ;  the  fountain 
splashing,  and  along  the  high-road  by  the 
river,  gay  voices  singing  together. 

"O  how  full  of  refreshment  is  our  Ger- 
man life  !  "  cried  Eric  ;  "  the  active,  indus- 
trious people  enjoy  themselves  in  the  even- 
ing, which  brings  coolness  and  shade  to 
the  treeless  vineyards.1' 

They  continued  their  journey  in  silence, 
when  suddenly  Pranken  started  convulsive- 
ly, for  there  came  before  him,  as  if  in  a 
dream,  a  vision  of  himself,  pistol  in  hand, 
confronting  in  a  duel  the  man  now  seated 
by  his  side.  "Whence  came  the  vision? 
He  could  not  tell.  And  yet,  was  it  meant 
to  be  a  prophetic  warning  ? 

He  forced  himself  to  talk.  A  prominent 
trait  of  his  character,  which  belonged  to 
him  by  natare  and  education  was  a  social 
disposition,  a  desire  to  please  all  with 
whom  he  came  in  contact.  To  drive  away 
the  vision,  and  in  obedience  to  this  social 
impulse,  he  began  to  tell  Eric  where  he 
had  been.  By  the  advice  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  Count  Clodwig  von  Wolfsgarten,  he 
had  just  paid  a  visit  to  a  much  respected 
landed  proprietor  in  the  neighborhood,  in 
order  to  enter  upon  a  course  of  instruction, 
if  the  arrangement  should  prove  mutually 
agreeable. 

The  land-holder  Weidmann, — who  was 
often  called  the  March-minister,  because 
as  a  pioneer  to  help  stem  the  revolutionary 
current  in  1848  *he  was  made  minister  for 
three  days,  —  was  considered,  in  all  the 
surrounding  region,  as  an  authority  upon 
agricultural  as  well  as  political  matters. 

Pranken  talked  on,  and  the  more  he  talked 
the  more  he  enjoyed  his  own  witty  sallies  ; 
and  the  more  he  indulged  in  them,  the 
more  pungent  they  became.  He  began : 
"  I  should  like  to  know  how  this  man  will 
strike  you;  he  has,  like" — here  he  hesi- 
tated a  little,  birt  quickly  added  —  "  like  all 
great  reformers,  a  vast  train  of  fine  dog- 


mas, enough  to  supply  a  whole  Capuchin 
monastery." 

Eric  laughed,  and  Pranken,  laughing  al- 
so, continued:    "Ah!  the  world  is  made 
up  of  nothing  but  humbug  !    The  much- 
talked-of  poetry  of  a  landed  proprietor's 
life  is  nothing  but  a  constant  desire  for 
lucre,  tricked  out  with  paint  from  the  glow 
of  the  morning  and  evening  sky.  This 
Herr  Weidmann  and   his  sons  think  of 
nothing  but  the  everlasting  dollar.  He 
has  six  sons,  five  of  whom  I  know,  and  all 
look  impertinently  well,  with  pretentiously 
white,   faultless   teeth,   and  full  beards. 
These  mountains,  which  travellers  admire, 
are  compelled  to  yield  them  wine  from  the 
surface,  and  slate,  manganese,  ore,  and 
chemicals  from  the  mines  beneath.  They 
have  five  different  factories ;  one  son  is  a 
miner,  another  a  machinist,  a  third  a  chem- 
ist, and  so  they  work  into  each  others' 
hands  and  for  their  common  interest.  I 
have  been  told  that  they  extract  forty  dif- 
ferent substances   from  beechwood,  and 
then  send  the  exhausted  residuum  as  char- 
coal to  the  Paris  restaurants.    Isn't  that  a 
pretty  love  of  nature  ?    Then,  as  to  Father 
Wiedmann, — you  enjoy  the  song  of  the 
nightingales,  I  know.    Well,  Father  Weid- 
mann obtained  from  the  government  an 
edict  of  protection  for  them,  because  they 
eat  insects  and  are  very  useful  to  the  fields 
and  woods.    Father  Weidmann  lives  in  a 
restored  castle,  but  if  a  minstrel  came  there 
to-day  he  would  get  no  hearing,  unless  he 
sang  the  noble  love  by  which  Nitrogen  and 
Hydrogen  are  bound  to  Ammonia.    I  am 
almost  crazed  with  super-phosphates  and 
alkalies.  Do  you  think,  it  is  a  destiny  worth 
striving  after,  to  be  able  to  increase  the  food 
of  mankind  by  a  few  sacks  of  potatoes  ?  " 

Before  Eric  could  answer,  Pranken  ad- 
ded: "  Ah,  there  is  just  nothing  that  one 
would  like  to  turn  to.  The  army  is  the 
one  profession." 

As  they  were  ascending  a  steep  hill  over- 
looking the  river  with  its  islands,  Pranken, 
pointing  up  the  stream  to  a  white  house  up- 
on the  bank,  said,  "  Yonder  is  the  Sonnen- 
kamp villa,  which  bears  the  name  of  Eden. 
That  great  glass  dome  on  which  the  even- 
ing sun  is  shining  is  the  palm-house.  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  is  an  enthusiastic  gardener ; 
his  conservatories  and  hot-houses  excel 
those  of  princes." 

Eric,  standing  upright  in  the  carriage, 
looked  back  upon  the  landscape,  and  the 
house  where  was  to  be,  probably,  the  turn- 
ing-point of  his  life.  As  he  sat  down 
Pranken  offered  him  a  cigar.  Eric  de- 
clined, for  he  had  given  up  smoking. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


12 

**  He  who  does  not  smoke  will  not  do  for 
Herr  Sonnenkamp ; 11  and  he  emphasized 
the  word  Herr.  "  Next  to  his  plants,  he 
prides  himself  upon  his  great  variety  of 
genuine  cigars  ;  and  he  was  specially  grate- 
ful to  me, when  I  once  said  to  him  that  he 
possessed  a  seraglio  of  cigars.  I  don't 
know  how  he  who  refuses  a  cigar  can  get 
along  with  him." 

"I  can  smoke,  but  I  am  no  slave  to  the 
habit,"  replied  Eric,  taking  the  cigar. 

"  You  seem  to  me  not  only  a  Doctor  of 
Philosophy,"  said  Pranken,  "  but  also  a  real 
philosopher.11 

The  two  travellers  drove  on  in  silence. 
Eric  looked  down,  his  mind  occupied  with 
many  and  various  thoughts. 

O  wonderful  world !  Invincible  poten- 
cies hover  in  the  air ;  a  human  soul  is  jour- 
neying there  and  does  not  imagine  that 
another  is  pressing  towards  him,  and  that 
they  both  have  one  destiny.  This  is  the 
greatness  of  the  human  spirit,  that  there  is 
a  preparation  for  taking  up  into  itself,  as  if 
they  had  one  life,  some  person  whose  name  is 
not  even  known,  whose  countenance  has  not 
been  seen,  and  of  whose  existence  there  has 
been  no  anticipation.  He  who  has  not  lived  for 
himself  alone,  he  who  has  dreamed,  thought, 
labored,  striven  for  the  common  good,  he 
is  ready,  each  hour,  to  enter  into  the  uni- 
versal life,  and  utters  the  creative  word,  Be 
soul  of  my  soul,  and  speaks  the  word  of 
salvation,  "  Thou  art  thy  brother's  keeper." 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE  OLD  NOBLEMAN   AND   HIS  BEAUTIFUL 
WIFE. 

"To  Wolfsgarten,"  was  the  direction 
upon  the  guide-board  at  the  edge  of  the 
well-kept  forest  where  they  were  now  driv- 
ing, on  the  grounds  and  territory  of  the 
nobleman.  Every  stranger  who  asks  the 
way,  and  makes  inquiry  concerning  the 
large,  plain  mansion  with  steep  gables  be- 
yond, receives  the  reply  that  two  happy 
people  live  there,  who  have  every  blessing 
except  that  of  children. 

There  are  those  who  give  satisfaction  to 
the  soul.  Where  two  sit  and  talk  about  them, 
each  feels  gratified  in  being  able  to  per- 
ceive and  exhibit  the  pure  and  beautiful, 
and  is  grateful  to  the  other  for  each  new 
insight ;  but,  strangely  enough,  people  soon 
tire  of  talking  about  the  purely  beautiful. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  are  those  who 
furnish  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  material 
for  conversation  which  dwells  chiefly  upon 
the  unlovely  features,  whilst  the  attractive 
are  mingled  in  and  brought  to  the  surface 
with  great  effort ;  at  the  close  the  speaker 


feels  obliged  to  add,  "But  lam  no  hypo- 
crite when  I  meet  this  person  in  a  friendly 
way,  for  while  there  is  much  to  condemn, 
there  is  also  a  great  deal  that  is  good." 
Clodwig  was  a  character  of  the  former,  and 
his  wife  Bella,  born  Baroness  von  Pranken, 
of  the  latter  sort. 

Clodwig  was  a  nobleman  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word.  He  was  not  one  of  your 
affable  people,  on  the  same  terms  with 
every  one.  He  had  a  gentlemanly  reserve 
and  repose.  The  independent  proprietor, 
the  manufacturer  as  well  as  the  priest,  the 
day-laborer,  the  official,  and  the  city-mer- 
chant, each  believed  that  he  was  particu- 
larly esteemed  and  beloved ;  and  all  con- 
sidered him  an  ornament  of  the  landscape, 
like  some  great  tree  upon  the  mountain-top, 
whose  shade  and  whose  majestic  height 
were  a  joy,  and  a  shelter  from  every  storm. 

The  counsel  and  help  of  Clodwig  von 
Wolfsgarten  could  be  counted  upon  confi- 
dently in  all  exigencies.  He  had  been 
abroad  for  a  long  period,  and  only  since  his 
second  marriage,  five  years  since,  had  he 
resided  at  his  country-seat.  Bella  von 
Wolfsgarten  was  much  more  admired  than 
beloved.  She  was  beautiful,  many  said  too 
beautiful  for  the  old  gentleman.  She  was 
more  talkative  than  her  husband ;  and  when 
she  drove  out  in  a  pony-carriage  drawn  by 
a  span  of  dappled  greys  through  the  country 
and  villages,  herself  holding  the  reins, 
while  her  husband  sat  by  her  side  and  the 
footman  upon  the  back  seat,  •  everybody 
bowed  and  stared.  Many  old  people,  who 
always  find  some  special  reason  for  any 
new  fashion,  were  inclined  to  see  in  this 
fact  of  Bella's  holding  the  reins  a  proof 
that  she  had  the  rule.  But  this  was  not  so, 
by  any  means.  She  was  humble  and  en- 
tirely submissive  to  her  husband.  It  was 
often  displeasing  to  him  that  she  so  exces- 
sively praised,  even  in  his  presence,  his 
goodness,  his  even  disposition,  and  his 
noble  views  of  life  and  the  world. 

Eric  had  only  a  dim  recollection  of  the 
commotion  excited  in  the  capital  by  Bella's 
marriage,  for  it  happened  about  the  time 
that  he  resigned  his  commission.  He  had 
frequently  seen  Bella,  but  never  the  count. 
The  count  had  been  for  many  years  am- 
bassador from  the  small  principality  to  the 
papal  court,  and  there  Eric's  father  had  be- 
come acquainted  with  him. 

Clodwig  was  known  in  the  scientific 
world  through  a  small  archaeological  treat- 
ise with  very  expensive  designs ;  for  next 
to  music,  which  he  pursued  with  ardor,  he 
was  devoted  to  the  science  of  antiquity  with 
all  that  earnest  fidelity  which  was  a  charac- 
teristic of  his  whole  being.    It  was  said  in 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


IB 


his  praise, that  there  was  no  science  and  no 
art  to  which  he  did  not  give  his  fostering 
care.  Returning  from  Rome  to  his  native 
land,  childless  and  a  widower,  he  became 
an  esteemed  member  of  the  assembly  of  the 
nobility  favoring  what  is  called  moderate 
progress ;  and  during  the  session,  he  asso- 
ciated much  with  the  old  Herr  von  Pran- 
ken, who  was  also  a  member.  He  soon 
became  interested  in  Bella  von  Pranken, 
a  woman  of  imposing  manners,  and  a  brill- 
iant performer  upon  the  piano.  Bella  was 
now,  if  one  may  be  so  ungallant  as  to  say 
so,  somewhat  passee ;  but  in  her  bloom  she 
had  been  the  beauty  of  that  court  circle, 
where  a  younger  generation  now  flourished, 
to  which  she  did  not  belong. 

Bella  had  travelled  over  a  good  part  of 
the  world.  In  the  company  of  two  Eng- 
lishwomen she  had  visited  Italy,  Greece, 
and  Egypt.  She  had  hired  an  experienced 
courier,  who  relieved  her  from  all  care. 
On  her  return  to  the  court  where  her  fa- 
ther was  grand-equerry,  she  mingled  in  so- 
ciety with  that  indifferent  air  which  passes 
itself  off  as  a  higher  nature  brought  into 
contact  with  the  common-places  of  daily 
life.  She  conversed  much  with  Clodwig  von 
Wolfsgarten,  who  supposed  that  the  insig- 
nificant trifles  of  social  life  were  considered 
by  her  as  unworthy  of  notice,  and  she 
gained  the  credit  with  him  of  possessing  a 
refined  nature  occupied  only  wifch  higher 
interests.  She  constantly  and  actively  par- 
ticipated in  Clodwig's  fondness  for  archaeo- 
logical pursuits.  It  was  a  matter  of  course 
that  they  should  find  themselves  in  each 
other's  society,  and  if  the  one  or  the  other 
was  not  present,  Bella  or  Clodwig  was 
asked  if  the  absent  one  was  sick,  or  had  an 
engagement.  Bella  had  no  porcelain  fig- 
ures and  nick-nacks  of  that  kind  upon  her 
table,  but  only  choice  copies  from  the  an- 
tique ;  and  she  wore  a  large  amber  chain 
taken  from  the  tomb  of  some  noble  Roman 
lady.  She  possessed  a  large  photographic 
album,  containing  views  of  her  journey, 
and  was  happy  to  look  over  them  again 
and  again  with  Clodwig,  and  to  receive  in- 
struction from  him.  She  also  played  fre- 
quently for  him,  although  no  longer  exhib- 
iting her  musical  talent  in  society. 

The  entire  circle  for  once  did  something 
novel:  they  carried  from  Bella  to  Clodwig, 
and  from  him  to  Bella,  the  enthusiastic 
speeches  of  the  one  about  the  other;  and 
even  personages  of  the  highest  rank  took 
part  in  furthering  their  intimacy.  This  be- 
came necessary  f  rom  the  timidity  they  both 
experienced,  when  they  became  conscious 
of  the  possibility  of  a  different  relation  be- 
tween them.    Meanwhile  success  crowned 


the  attempt,  and  the  betrothal  was  cele- 
brated in  the  most  select  circle  of  the  court. 

Mischievous  tongues  now  repeated  —  for 
it  was  but  fair  that  there  should  be  some 
compensation  for  the  previous  excessive 
good-nature  that  two  interesting  points 
of  discussion  had  arisen.  Bella,  they  said, 
had  made  it  a  condition  of  the  betrothal, 
that  he  should  never  speak  of  his  deceased 
wife,  and  the  old  Pranken  had  asked  of  the 
physician  how  long  the  count  might  be  ex- 
pected to  live.  He  must  have  smiled  in  a 
peculiar  way  when  the  physician  assured 
him  that  such  old  gentlemen,  who  live  so 
regularly,  quietly,  and  without  passion, 
might  count  upon  an  indefinite  number  of 
years. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  conduct  of  Bella 
gave  the  lie  to  the  malicious  report  that  she 
hoped  soon  to  be  a  rich  young  widow. 
Clodwig  had  had  an  attack  of  vertigo  shortly 
before  the  wedding ;  and  always  after  that 
Bella  contrived  that  he  should  be,  without 
his  knowledge,  attended  by  a  servant. 
She  devoted  herself  with  the  most  affection- 
ate care  to  the  old  gentleman,  who  now 
seemed  to  enjoy  a  new  life,  and  to  gain 
fresh  vigor  on  returning  to  his  paternal  es- 
tate. At  the  baths,  where  they  went  every 
summer,  Clodwig  and  Bella  were  highly 
esteemed  personages.  She  was  admired 
not  only  for  her  beauty,  but  also  for  her 
stainless  fidelity,  and  for  her  solicitous  at- 
tention to  her  aged  husband. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  RECEPTION  DAY. 

It  was  yet  bright  daylight  here  upon 
the  mountain-height,  when  they  approached 
the  Wolfsgarten  mansion.  As  they  were 
making  the  last  ascent  through  the  park,  a 
beautiful  girl  in  a  figured  blue  summer-suit 
stood  in  the  path  between  the  green  trees. 
Getting  sight  of  the  carriage,  she  quickly 
turned  back  again.  Two  light-blue  ribbons, 
tied  behind,  according  to  the  fashion,  floated 
in  the  evening  wind.  Her  step  was  firm 
and  yet  graceful. 

"Ah,11  said  Pranken,  "  to-day  we  have 
hit  upon  my  sisters  collation-day.  That 
pretty  girl  who  turned  about  so  quickly  is 
the  daughter  of  the  Justice,  freshly  baked 
out  of  the  oven  of  the  convent  of  the  '  Sa- 
cred Heart 1  at  Aix.  You  will  find  her  a 
genuine  child  of  the  Rhine,  and  my  sister 
has  given  her  the  appropriate  name  Musse- 
lina ;  there  is  in  her  something  of  perpetual 
summer.  Through  this  warm-hearted  child 
we  are  now  already  announced  to  the  com- 
pany.11 


14 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


While  he  was  arranging  his  hair  with  his 
pocket-comb,  he  continued,  — 

"  The  family  is  very  respectable  and 
highly  esteemed ;  the  little  one  is  too  good 
to  be  trifled  with ;  one  must  have  an  infe- 
rior kind  to  smoke  in  the  open  air." 

Pranken  suddenly  became  aware  whom 
he  was  talking  to,  and  immediately  added, 

—  "  So  would  our  comrade,  Don  John  Nip- 
per, who  was  everlastingly  betting,  express 
himself.  Do  you  know  that  the  wild  fellow 
has  now  an  affection  of  the  spine,  and  is 
wheeled  about  at  Wiesbaden  in  a  chair  ?  n 

Pranken's  whole  manner  changed ;  and 
springing  with  joyful  elasticity  out  of  the 
carriage,  he  reached  out  his  hand  to  Eric, 
saying,  ' 1  Welcome  to  Wolfsgarten  ! "  Many 
carriages  were  standing  in  the  court-yard, 
and  in  the  garden  they  found  the  ladies, 
who  with  fans  and  parasols  sat  upon  hand- 
some chairs  around  a  bed  of  luxuriantly- 
growing  forget-me-nots,  in  the  centre  of 
which  was  a  red  rhododendron  in  full 
bloom. 

"  We  are  no  peace-breakers  ;  don't  let  us 
disturb  you,  good  ladies,"  cried  out  Pranken 
from  a  distance,  in  a  jesting  tone.  Bella 
greeted  her  brother,  and  then  Eric,  whom 
she  recognised  at  once.  The  wife  of  the 
Justice  and  Fraulein  Lina  were  very  happy  to 
renew  the  acquaintance  of  yesterday ;  then 
were  introduced  the  district  physician's  wife 
and  sister,  the  head-forester's  wife  and  her 
mother,  the  apothecary's  wife,  the  burgo- 
master's wife,  the  school-director's  wife, 
and  the  wives  of  the  two  manufacturers. 
In  fact,  all  the  notabilities  of  the  place 
seemed  to  have  assembled.  The  gentlemen 
had  gone,  it  was  said,  to  view  some  pros- 
pect not  very  far  off,  and  would  soon  be 
back. 

The  conversation  was  not  very  lively, 
and  Eric's  appearance  awakened  interest. 
The  director's  wife,  a  large  striking  figure 

—  Bella  called  her  the  lay  figure,  for  she 
knew  how  to  dress  well,  and  everything  be- 
came her  ^-raised  her  opera-glass  and 
looked  round  upon  the  landscape,  but  took 
advantage  of  this  survey  to  get  a  nearer 
look  at  Eric's  face.  The  manner  in  which 
she  then"  balanced  the  glass  in  her  hand 
seemed  to  say  that  she  was  not  altogether 
displeased  with  the  view. 

After  the  first  question,  how  long  it  was 
since  Eric  had  seen  the  Rhine,  and  after  he 
had  informed  them  how  everything  had  ap- 
peared under  a  new  aspect,  and  had  affected 
him  almost  to  intoxication,  he  said  it  was 
very  pleasant  to  see  the  young  ladies  wear- 
ing wreaths  of  fresh  flowers  and  leaves  upon 
their  heads.  To  this  he  added  the  remark, 
that  though  it  was  natural  and  fitting  for 


ladies  to  wear  wreaths  on  their  heads,  it  was 
very  comical  when  men,  even  on  some  ru- 
ral excursion,  allowed  the  black  cylinder 
hat  to  be  ornamented  with  a  wreath  by  some 
fair  hand. 

Insignificant  as  was  the  observation,  the 
tone  in  which  Eric  uttered  it  gave  pecu- 
liar pleasure,  and  the  whole  circle  smiled 
in  a  friendly  manner ;  they  at  once  felt  that 
here  was  a  person  of  original  and  suggest- 
ive ideas. 

Bella  knew  how  to  bring  out  a  guest  in 
conversation.  "Did  not  the  Greeks  and 
Romans,  Captain,"  she  asked,  "wear  badges 
of  distinction  upon  the  head,  while  we,  who 
plume  ourselves  so  much  about  our  hearts, 
wear  ours  upon  the  breast  ? "  Then  she 
spoke  of  an  ancient  wreath  of  victory  she 
had  seen  at  Rome,  and  asked  Eric  whether 
there  were  different  classes  of  wreaths. 
Without  intending  it  Eric  described  the  va- 
rious kinds  of  crowns  given  to  victory,  and 
it  excited  much  merriment  when  he  spoke 
of  the  wreath  made  of  grass,  which  a  gene- 
ral received  who  had  relieved  a  besieged 
city. 

The  girls,  who  stood  in  groups  at  one 
side, made  a  pretence  of  calling  out  to  a 
handsome  boy  playing  at  the  fountain  be- 
low, and  sprang  down  the  little  hill  with 
flying  garments.  On  reaching  the  fountain, 
they  troubled  themselves  no  further  about 
the  little  boy  they  had  called  to,  but  talked 
with  one  another  about  the  stranger,  and 
how  interesting  he  was. 

"He  is  handsomer  than  the  architect," 
said  the  apothecary's  daughter. 

"  And  he  is  even  handsomer  than  Herr 
von  Pranken,"  added  Hildegard,  the  school- 
director's  daughter. 

Lina  enjoyed  the  enviable  advantage  of 
being  able  to  relate  that  she  had  met  him 
yesterday  at  the  island  convent ;  her  father 
had  rightly  guessed  that  he  was  of  French 
descent,  for  his  father  had  belonged  to  the 
immigrating  Huguenots,  as  his  name  indi- 
cated. The  apothecary's  daughter,  who 
plumed  herself  highly  upon  her  brother's 
being  a  lieutenant,  promised  to  obtain  from 
him  more  definite  information  about  the 
captain. 

In  her  free  way,  Lina  proposed  that  they 
should  weave  a  garland  and  place  it  unex- 
pectedly on  the  bare  head  of  the  stranger. 
The  wreath  was  speedily  got  ready,  but  no 
one  of  the  girls,  not  even  Lina,  ventured  to 
complete  the  strange  proposal. 

Meanwhile  Eric  was  sitting  amidst  the 
circle  of  ladies,  and  he  expressed  his  sin- 
cere envy  of  those  persons  who  live  among 
such  beautiful  natural  scenery  ;  they  might 
not  always  be  conscious  of  it,  but  it  had  a 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


15 


bracing  influence  upon  the  spirit,  and  there 
was  a  keen  sense  of  loss  when  removed  into 
less  interesting  scenes.  No  one  ventured 
to  make  any  reply, until  Bella  remarked,  — 
"  Praise  of  the  landscape  in  which  we  live 
is  a  sort  of  flattery  to  us,  as  if  we  ourselves, 
our  dress,  our  house,  or  anything  belonging 
to  us,  should  be  praised." 

All  assented,  although  it  was  not  evident 
whether  Bella  had  expressed  approval  or 
disapproval.  Then  she  asked  Eric  con- 
cerning his  mother,  and  as  if  incidentally, 
but  not  without  emphasis,  alluded  to  the 
sudden  death  of  her  brother,  Baron  von 
Burgholz.  Those  present  knew  now  that 
Eric  was  of  partially  noble  descent.  Bella 
spoke  so  easily  that  speaking  seemed  a 
wholly  secondary  matter  to  her,  while  seeing 
and  being  seen  were  the  things  of  real  im- 
portance. She  hardly  moved  a  feature  in 
speaking,  scarcely  even  the  lips,  and  only 
in  smiling  exhibited  a  full  row  of  small 
white  teeth. 

Bella  knew  that  Eric  was  looking  at  her 
attentively  while  he  spoke,  and  composedly 
as  if  she  stood  before  a  mirror,  she  offered 
her  face  to  his  gaze.  She  then  introduced 
Eric,  in  the  most  friendly  way,  to  the 
agreeable  head-forester's  wife,  a  fine  singer, 
asking  at  the  same  time  if  he  still  kept  up 
his  singing ;  he  replied  that  he  had  been 
for  some  years  out  of  practice. 

The  evening  was  unusually  sultry,  and 
the  air  was  close  and  hot  over  mountain 
and  valley. 

A  thunder  storm  was  coming  up  in  the 
distance.  They  discussed  whether  they 
should  wait  for  the  storm  at  Wolfsgarten 
or  return  home  immediately.  "  If  the  gen- 
tlemen were  only  here  to  decide."  The 
pleasant  forester's  lady  confessed  that  she 
was  afraid  of  a  thunder  storm. 

"  Then  you  and  your  sister  are  in  sym- 
pathy," said  Eric. 

"  O,"  said  the  sister,  "I  am  not  at  all 
afraid." 

"  Excuse  me;  I  did  not  mean  you,  but 
the  beautiful  songstress  dwelling  here  in 
the  thicket.  Do  you  not  notice  that  Mrs. 
Nightingale,  who  sang  so  spiritedly  a  few 
moments  since,  is  now  suddenly  dumb  ? " 
All  were  very  merry  over  this  remark,  and 
now  each  told  what  she  did  with  herself 
during  a  thunder  storm. 

"  I  think,"  said  Eric,  "  that  we  can  find 
out  not  so  much  the  character,  as  the  vege- 
tative life  of  the  brain,  the  nervous  temper- 
ament, as  it  is  called,  by  observing  the 
effect  which  a  thunder  storm  has  upon  us. 
We  are  so  far  removed  from  the  life  of 
nature,  that  when  changes  take  place  in  the 
atmosphere  that  can  be  heard  and  seen,  we 


are  taken  by  surprise,  as  if  a  voice  should 
suddenly  call  to  us  out  of  the  still  air, 
'  Attend  !  thou  art  walking  and  breathing 
in  a  world  full  of  mystery  !  '  " 

"  Ah,  here  come  the  gentlemen  !  "  it  was 
suddenly  called  out.  Two  handsome  point- 
ers springing  into  the  garden  went  round 
and  round  Pranken's  dog,  who  had  been 
abroad,  smelling  at  him  inquiringly,  as  if 
they  would  get  out  of  him  the  results  of  his 
experience.  The  men  came  immediately 
after  the  dogs. 

Eric  immediately  recognised  Count  Clod- 
wig,  before  his  name  was  mentioned.  His 
fine,  well-preserved  person,  the  constant 
friendliness  of  expression  on  his  smoothly 
shaven,  elderly  face,  as  yet  unwriukled, — 
this  could  be  no  other  than  the  Count 
Clodwig  von  Wolfsgarten  ;  all  the  rest  had 
grouped  themselves  around  him  as  a  centre, 
and  exhibited  a  sort  of  deference,  as  if  he 
were  the  prince  of  the  land.  He  possessed 
two  peculiar  characteristics  seldom  found 
together :  he  attracted  love,  and  at  the 
same  time  commanded  homage ;  and  al- 
though he  never  exhibited  any  aristocratic 
haughtiness,  and  treated  each  one  in  a 
friendly  and  kindly  manner,  it  seemed  only 
a  matter  of  course  for  him  to  take  the  lead. 

When  Eric  was  introduced  to  him,  hi* 
countenance  immediately  lighted  up,  every 
feature  beaming  with  happy  thoughts .  ' '  You 
are  welcome  ;  as  the  son  of  my  Roman  friend 
you  have  inherited  my  friendship,"  he  said, 
pressing  more  closely  with  his  left  hand  the 
spectacles  over  his  eyes. 

His  manner  of  speaking  was  so  moderate 
and  agreeable  that  he  seemed  to  be  no 
stranger ;  while  there  was  in  the  accent 
something  so  calm  and  measured,  that  any 
striking  novelty  was  received  from  him  as 
something  for  which  you  were  unconsciously 
prepared.  He  had  always  the  same  de- 
meanor, a  steady  composure,  and  a  certain 
deliberateness,  never  making  haste,  having 
always  time  enough,  and  preserving  a 
straight-forward  uprightness  befitting  an 
old  man.  When  Eric  expressed  the  happi- 
ness it  gave  him  to  inherit  the  count's 
friendship  towards  his  father,  and  that  of 
the  countess  towards  his  mother,  a  still 
warmer  friendliness  beamed  from  Clodwig's 
countenance. 

"  You  have  exactly  your  father's  voice," 
he  said.  "  It  was  a  hard  stroke  to  me 
when  I  heard  of  his  death,  for  I  had  thought 
of  writing  to  him  for  several  years,  but  de- 
layed until  it  was  too  late." 

When  Eric  was  introduced  now  by  Clod- 
wig  to  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen,  it  seemed 
as  if  this  man  invested  him  with  his  own 
dignity.    "Here  I  make  you  acquainted 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


16 

with  a  good  comrade,"  said  Clodwig,  with 
a  significant  smile,  whilst  he  introduced  him 
to  an  old  gentleman,  having  a  broad  red 
face,  and  snow-white  hair  trimmed  very- 
close.  "  This  is  our  major  —  Major  Gras- 
sier." 

The  major  nodded  pleasantly,  extending 
to  Eric  a  hand  to  which  the  forefinger  was 
wanting ;  but  the  old  man  could  still  press 
strongly  the  stranger's  hand.  He  nodded 
again,  but  said  nothing. 

The  other  gentlemen  were  also  intro- 
duced by  the  count ;  one  of  these,  a  hand- 
some young  man,  with  a  dark-brown  face 
and  fine  beard  and  moustache,  the  architect 
Erhardt,  took  his  leave  directly,  as  he  had 
an  appointment  at  the  limestone  quarry. 
The  school-director  informed  Eric  that  he 
had  been  also  a  pupil  of  Professor  Einsiedel. 

The  major  was  called  out  of  the  men's 
circle  by  the  ladies  ;  they  took  him  to  task, 
the  wife  of  the  Justice  leading  off,  for  having 
left  them  and  gone  off  with  the  gentlemen, 
while  always  before  he  had  been  very  atten- 
tive to  the  ladies,  and  their  faithful  knight. 
Now  he  was  to  make  amends. 

The  major  had  just  seated  himself  when 
the  girls  placed  upon  his  white  head  the 
crown  intended  for  Eric.  He  nodded  mer- 
rily, and  desired  that  a  mirror  should  be 
brought,  to  see  how  he  looked.  He  pointed 
the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand  to  Lina,  and 
asked  her  if  that  was  one  of  the  things  she 
learned  at  the  convent. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  the  major 
was  the  target  for  shafts  of  wit,  a  position 
which  some  one  in  every  society  voluntarily 
must  assume  or  submit  to  perforce.  The 
major  conferred  upon  his  acquaintance  more 
pleasure  than  he  was  aware  of,  for  every  one 
smiled  in  a  friendly  way  when  he  was 
thought  of  or  spoken  about. 

A  gust  of  wind  came  down  over  the 
plain  ;  the  flag  upon  the  mansion  was  low- 
ered ;  the  upholstered  chairs  were  speedily 
put  under  the  covering  of  the  piazza ;  and 
all  had  a  feeling  of  comfort,  as  they  sat 
sociably  together  in  the  well-lighted  draw- 
ing-room, while  the  storm  raged  outside. 

For  some  time  no  other  subject  could  be 
talked  about  than  the  storm.  The  major 
told  of  a  slight  skirmish  in  which  he  had 
been  engaged  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
fearful  thunder  and  lightning  ;  he  expressed 
himself  clumsily,  but  they  understood  his 
meaning,  how  horrible  it  was  for  them  to 
be  murdering  each  other,  while  the  heavens 
were  speaking.  The  Justice  told  of  a  young 
fellow  who  was  about  to  take  a  false  oath, 
and  had  just  raised  up  his  hand,  when  a 
sudden  thunder-clap  caused  him  to  drop  it, 
crying  out,  "I  am  guilty."    The  forester 


added  laughing,  that  a  thunder  storm  was 
a  very  nice  thing,  as  the  wild  game  after- 
wards was  very  abundant.  The  school- 
director  gave  an  exceedingly  graphic  de- 
scription of  the  difficulty  of  keeping  children 
in  the  school-room  occupied,  as  one  could 
not  continue  the  ordinary  instruction,  and 
yet  one  did  not  know  what  should  be  done 
with  them. 

All  eyes  were  turned  upon  Eric  as  if  to 
inquire  what  he  had  to  say,  and  he  re- 
marked in  an  easy  tone,  —  "What  here 
possesses  the  soul  as  a  raging  storm  is 
down  there,  on  the  lower  Rhine,  and  above 
there,  in  Alsace,  a  distant  heat  lightning 
which  cools  off  the  excessive  heat  of  the 
daytime.  People  sit  there  enjoying  them- 
selves in  gardens  and  balconies,  breathing 
in  the  pure  air  in  quiet  contemplation.  I 
might  say  that  there  are  geographical  bound- 
aries and  distinct  zones  of  feeling." 

Drawing  out  this  idea  at  length,  he  was 
able  to  make  them  wholly  forget  the  pres- 
ent. The  forester's  wife,  who  had  been 
sitting  in  the  dark  in  the  adjoining  room 
with  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  came  into  the 
drawing-room  at  these  words  of  Eric,  which 
she  must  have  heard,  and  seemed  relieved 
of  all  fear. 

Eric  spoke  for  a  long  time.  Though  his 
varied  experience  might  have  taught  him  a 
different  lesson,  he  still  believed  that  people 
always  wished  to  get  something  in  conver- 
sation, to  gain  clearer  ideas,  and  not  merely 
to  while  away  the  time.  Hence,  when  he 
conversed,  he  gave  out  his  whole  soul,  the 
very  best  he  had,  and  did  not  fear  that  be- 
hind his  back  they  would  call  his  animated 
utterances-  pertness  and  vanity.  He  had  a 
talent  for  society ;  even  more  than  that,  for 
he  placed  himself  in  t  he  position  of  him  whom 
he  addressed,  and  this  one  soon  felt  that 
Eric  saw  farther  than  he  himself  did,  and 
that  he  spoke  not  out  of  presumption,  but 
out  of  benevolence. 

There  is  something  really  imposing  in  a 
man  who  clearly  and  fluently  expresses  his 
ideas  to  other  people  ;  their  own  thought  is 
brought  to  light,  and  they  are  thankful  for 
the  boon.  But  most  persons  are  imposed 
upon  by  the  "  Sir  Oracle"  who  gives  them 
to  understand,  "I  am  speaking  of  things 
which  you  do  not  and  cannot  comprehend  ;  " 
and  the  Sir  Oracles  carry  so  much  the 
greater  weight  of  influence. 

The  men,  and  more  particularly  the  Jus- 
tice and  the  school-director,  shrugged  their 
shoulders.  Eric's  enthusiasm  and  his  un- 
reserved unfolding  of  his  own  interior  life 
had  in  it  something  odd,  even  wounding  to 
some  of  the  men.  They  felt  that  this  strange 
manner,  this  extraordinary  revelation  of 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


17 


character,  this  pouring  out  of  one's  best, 
was  attractive  to  the  ladies,  and  that  they, 
getting  in  a  word  incidentally  and  without 
being  able  to  complete  a  thought,  or  round 
off  a  period,  were  wholly  cast  into  the 
shade.  The  Justice,  observing  the  beaming 
eyes  of  his  daughter  and  of  the  forester's 
wife,  whispered  to  the  school-director, 
"  This  is  a  dangerous  person." 

The  company  broke  up  into  groups. 
Eric  stood  with  Clodwig  in  the  bow- 
window,  and  they  looked  out  upon  the 
night.  The  lightning  flashed  over  the 
distant  mountains,  sometimes  lighting  up  a 
peak  in  the  horizon,  sometimes  making  a 
rift  in  the  sky,  as  if  behind  it  were  another 
sky,  while  the  thunder  rolled,  shaking  the 
ceiling  and  tinkling  the  pendent  prisms  of 
the  chandelier. 

"There  are  circumstances  and  events 
which  occur  and  repeat  themselves  as  if 
they  had  already  passed  before  us  in  a 
dream,"  Clodwig  began.  "Just  as  I  now 
stand  here  with  you,  I  stood  with  your 
father  in  the  Roman  Campagna.  I  know 
not  how  it  chanced,  but  we  spoke  of  that 
view  in  which  the  things  of  the  world  are 
regarded  under  the  aspect  of  the  infinite, 
and  then  your  father  said, — methinks  I 
still  hear  his  voice,  —  '  Only  when  we  take 
in  the  life  of  humanity  as  a  whole  do  we 
have,  as  thinkers,  that  rest  which  the  be- 
lievers receive  from  faith,  for  then  the 
world  lives  to  us  as  to  them,  in  the  oneness 
of  God's  thought.  He  who  follows  up  only 
the  individual  ant  cannot  comprehend  its 
zigzag  track,  or  its  fate  as  it  suddenly  falls 
into  the  hole  of  the  ant-lion,  who  must  also 
get  a  living.  But  he  who  regards  the  ant- 
hill as  a  whole  — '  " 

Clodwig  suddenly  stopped.  From  the 
valley  they  heard  the  shrill  whistle  of  the 
locomotive,  and  the  hollow  rumbling  of  the 
train  of  cars. 

11  But  at  that  time,"  he  continued  after  a 
pause,  and  his  face  was  lighted  up  by  a  sud- 
den flash  of  lightning,  "  at  that  time  no  lo- 
comotive's whistle  broke  in  upon  our  quiet 
meditation." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Eric,  "  I  do  not  like  to 
regard  this  shrill  tone  as  a  discord." 

"  Go  on,  I  am  curious  to  hear  why  not." 

"Is  it  not  grand  that  human  beings  con- 
tinue their  ordinary  pursuits  in  the  midst 
of  nature's  disturbances  ?  In  our  modern 
age  an  unalterable  system  of  movements  is 
seen  to  be  continually  operating  upon  our 


earth.  May  it  not  be  said  that  all  our  do- 
ing is  but  a  preparation  of  the  way,  a  mak- 
ing straight  the  path,  so  that  the  eternal 
forces  of  nature  may  move  in  freedom? 
The  man  of  this  new  age  has  the  railroad 
to  serve  him." 

ClodAvig  grasped  Eric's  hand.  Bright 
flashes  of  lightning  illumined  the  beaming 
face  of  the  young  man  and  the  serene  coun- 
tenance of  the  old  count.  Clodwig  pressed 
warmly  Eric's  hand,  as  if  he  would  say, 
"Welcome  again!  now  art  thou  truly 
mine."  Love,  suddenly  taking  possession 
of  two  hearts,  is  said  to  make  them  one ; 
and  is  it  not  also  true  of  friendship  ? 

It  was  so  here.  The  two  confronted 
each  other,  not  with  any  foreboding,  or  ex- 
citement of  feeling,  but  with  a  clear  and 
firm  recognition  that  each  had  found  his 
own  choicest  possession  ;  they  felt  that  they 
belonged  to  each  other,  and  it  was  entirely 
forgotten  that  they  had  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes  for  the  first  time  only  a  few 
moments  before.  They  had  become  united 
in  the  pure  thought  of  the  Eternal  that  has 
no  measure  of  time ;  they  may  have  stood 
there  speechless  for  a  long  time  after  un- 
clasping their  hands  ;  they  were  united,  and 
they  were  one  without  the  need  of  word, 
without  external  sign. 

In  a  voice  full  of  emotion,  as  if  he  had 
a  secret  to  reveal,  which  he  could  hardly 
open  his  lips  to  utter,  and  yet  which  he 
must  not  withhold,  Clodwig  said,  —  "In. 
such  storms  I  have  often  thought  of  that 
former  period  when  the  whole  land  from 
here  to  the  Odenwald  was  a  great  lake,  out 
of  which  the  mountain  peaks  towered  as 
islands,  until  the  water  forced  for  itself  a 
channel  through  the  wall  of  rock.  And 
have  you,  my  young  friend,  ever  enter- 
tained the  thought  that  chaos  may  come 
again  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed;  but  we  cannot  transport 
ourselves  into  the  pre-human  or  post-human 
period.  We  can  only  fill  out,  according  to 
our  strength,  our  allotted  time  of  three  score 
years  and  ten."  The  major  now  came  and 
invited  them  to  go  into  the  inner  saloon, 
where  the  company  had  assembled.  Clod- 
wig again  stroked  softly  Eric's  hand,  saying, 
"  Will  you  come?"  Like  two  lovers  who 
have  just  given  a  secret  kiss  and  an  em- 
brace, they  rejoined  the  company.  No  one 
suspected  why  their  countenances  were  so 
radiant. 


18 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  VH. 
AN   ILLUMINATING  FLASH 

After  the  crisis  of  a  storm  has  passed,  a 
company  of  persons  become  very  lively,  and 
have  an  additional  feeling  of  home.  They 
had  withdrawn  into  the  inner  music  saloon, 
whose  vaulted  ceiling,  brilliantly  lighted  up, 
had  even  a  festive  appearance.  Half  way 
up  the  walls  of  the  room  four  balconies  pro- 
jected, and  in  the  centre  was  the  grand  pi- 
ano. On  one  side  was  a  circular  seat,  upon 
an  elevated  platform,  where  Bella  was  sit- 
ting with  the  happy  Justice's  wife  on  the 
right,  and  the  forester's  wife  on  the  left. 

The  young  girls  were  promenading  arm 
in  arm  through  the  saloon,  and  Pranken, 
full  of  his  jokes,  accompanied  them ;  he 
carried  in  his  hand  a  rose  out  of  Lina's 
wreath ;  when  Clodwig  and  Eric  joined  the 
circle,  with  the  major,  the  young  people 
came  up  to  them. 

Bella  asked  the  major  whether  the  work 
upon  the  castle,  which  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
had  begun  to  rebuild,  was  still  continued. 
The  major  nodded  ;  he  always  nodded  sev- 
eral times  before  he  spoke,  as  if  carefully 
arranging  beforehand  what  he  should  say. 

He  asserted  very  confidently  that  they 
would  find  a  spring  in  the  castle  court-yard. 
Clodwig  begged  him  to  preserve  carefully 
every  relic  of  the  middle  ages  and  the  Ro- 
man period,  and  promised  soon  to  go  him- 
self, and  superintend  the  excavations.  The 
head-forester  jestingly  observed,  "Herr 
Sonnenkamp," — everybody  called  him  Herr, 
but  with  a  peculiar  accent,  as  if  they  wished 
no  further  acquaintance  with  him,  —  "Herr 
Sonnenkamp  will  probably  now  give  his 
name  to  the  restored  castle." 

When  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  name  was 
mentioned,  it  seemed  as  if  a  dam  had  been 
carried  away,  and  the  conversation  rushed 
in  headlong  from  all  quarters. 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp  has  a  deal  of  under- 
standing," said  the  school-director,  "  but 
Moliere  maliciously  observes,  that  the  rich 
man's  understanding  is  in  his  pocket." 

The  apothecary  added,  "Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp loves  to  represent  himself  as  an  incor- 
rigible sinner,  in  the  hope  that  nobody  will 
believe  him ;  but  people  do  believe  him." 

Eric  caught  the  names  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp, Frau  Ceres,  Manna,  Roland,  Frau 
Perini ;  it  was  like  the  chirping  of  birds  in 
the  woods,  all  sounds  mingled  together,  and 
no  one  melody  distinctly  heard.  The  wife 
of  the  Justice,  with  a  significant  glance  to- 
wards Pranken,  said,  "Men  like  the  major 
and  Herr  von  Pranken  can  take  up  at  once 
such  mysterious,  interloping  people  from 
abroad,  but  ladies  must  be  more  reserved." 


Then  she  gave  it  to  be  understood  that  the 
old  established  families  could  not  be  too 
strict  in  receiving  foreign  intruders. 

In  a  somewhat  forced  humor,  Bella  joked 
about  the  long  nails  of  Frau  Ceres  ;  but  her 
lips  trembled  when  Clodwig  said  very  sharp- 
ly, ' 1  Among  the  Indians  long  nails  take  the 
place  of  family  descent,  and  the  one  per- 
haps is  as  good  as  the  other." 

All  were  amazed  when  Clodwig  spoke  so 
disparagingly  of  the  nobility.  He  seemed 
displeased  at  the  detracting  remarks  upon 
the  Sonnenkamp  family ;  he  was  above  all 
meanness,  and  everything  small  and  invidi- 
ous was  as  offensive  to  him  as  a  disagree- 
able odor.  Turning  to  Eric,  he  said,  — 
"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  the  present  subject  of 
the  conversation,  is  the  owner  of  many  mil- 
lions. To  acquire  such  immense  wealth  is 
an  evidence  of  strength ;  or,  I  should  rather 
say,  to  acquire  great  wealth  shows  great 
vigor ;  to  keep  it  requires  great  wisdom ; 
and  to  use  it  well  is  a  virtue  and  an  art." 

He  paused,  and  as  no  one  spoke,  he  con- 
tinued,—  "Riches  have  a  certain  title  to 
respect ;  riches,  especially  one's  own  acqui- 
sition, are  an  evidence  of  activity  and  ser- 
vice. Far  easier  does  it  appear  to  me  to 
be  a  prince,  than  to  be  a  man  of  such  ex- 
cessive wealth.  Such  an  accumulation  of 
power  is  apt  to  make  men  arbitrary  ;  a  very 
wealthy  man  lives  in  an  atmosphere  saturat- 
ed, as  it  were,  with  the  consciousness  of 
supreme  power,  and  ceases  to  be  an  indi- 
vidual personality,  and  the  whole  world  as- 
sumes to  him  the  aspect  of  a  price-current 
list.    Have  you  ever  met  such  a  man  ?  " 

Before  Eric  could  reply,  Pranken  roughly 
broke  in,  "  Captain  Dournay  wishes  to  be- 
come the  tutor  of  the  young  Sonnenkamp." 
All  eyes  were  directed  towards  Eric ;  he 
was  regarded  as  if  he  had  been  suddenly 
transformed,  and  clad  in  a  beggar's  gar- 
ment. The  men  nodded  to  each  other  and 
shrugged  their  shoulders  ;  a  man  engaging 
in  a  private  employment,  and  such  an  em- 
ployment too,  had  lost  all  title  to  consider- 
ation. The  ladies  looked  at  him  compas- 
sionately. Eric  saw  nothing  of  all  this. 
He  did  not  know  what  Pranken  meant  by 
this  surprising  revelation ;  he  felt  that  he 
must  make  some  reply,  but  knew  not  what 
to  say. 

A  painful  pause  followed  Pranken's  com- 
munication. Clodwig  had  placed  his  hands 
upon  his  lips,  that  had  become  very  pale. 
At  last  he  said,  "  Such  an  appointment  will 
contribute  to  your  honor,  and  to  the  honor 
and  good  fortune  of  Herr  Sonnenkamp." 

Eric  felt  a  broad  hand  laid  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  on  looking  round  he  gazed 
into  the  smiling  countenance  of  the  major, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


19 


who,  pointing  several  times  with  his  left 
hand  to  his  heart,  said  at  last,  "The  count 
has  expressed  what  I  wished  to  say,  but  it 
is  better  for  him  to  have  said  it,  and  he  has 
done  it  much  better  than  I  could.  Carry 
out  your  purpose,  comrade." 

Pranken  now  came  up,  and  said,  in  a  very 
affable  tone,  that  it  was  he  who  had  advised 
and  recommended  Eric.  Lina  had  opened 
a  window,  and  called  out  in  a  clear  voice, 
M  The  storm  is  over." 

A  fresh,  fragrant  air  streaming  into  the 
saloon  gave  relief  to  their  constraint,  and 
every  one  breathed  freely  again.  A  gentle 
rain  still  pattered  down,  but  the  nightingales 
were  again  singing  in  the  woods.  They 
now  urged  the  foresters  wife  to  sing.  She 
declined,  but  could  not  withstand  the  re- 
quest of  Bella,  who  very  seldom  played, 
that  she  would  sing  to  her  accompaniment. 

The  foresters  wife  sang  some  songs  with 
so  fresh  and  youthful  a  voice,  so  clear  and 
simple,  that  the  hearts  of  all  the  hearers 
were  touched.  Lina  also  was  urged  to  sing. 
She  insisted  that  she  could  not  to-day,  but, 
on  receiving  a  reproving  glance  from  her 
mother,  she  seated  herself  at  the  piano, 
sang  some  notes,  and  then  gave  up.  With- 
out embarrassment,  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, she  said,  "I  have  now  proved  to 
you  that  I  can't  sing  to-day." 

The  wife  of  the  Justice  bit  her  lips,  and 
breathed  hard  with  quivering  nostrils,  at 
the  foolish  girl  acting  as  if  nothing  was  the 
matter.  The  forester's  wife  sang  another 
song ;  and  now  Lina,  placing  herself  at  her 
side,  said  that  she  would  sing  a  duet,  but 
she  could  not  sing  alone.  And  she  did  sing, 
in  a  fresh  soprano  voice,  somewhat  timidly, 
but  with  clear  and  pure  tone. 

With  unconscious  simplicity,  as  if  he 
were  an  old  acquaintance,  she  now  asked 
Eric  to  sing.  The  whole  company  united 
in  the  request,  but  Eric  positively  declined, 
and  looked  up  surprised  when  Pranken 
joined  in  with  the  remark,  "  The  captain  is 
right  in  not  exhibiting  at  once  all  his  va- 
ried talents."  It  was  said  in  the  gentlest 
tone,  but  the  sarcastic  point  was  unmistak- 
able. 

"I  thank  you  for  standing  by  me  like  a 
good  comrade,"  said  Eric,  looking  round. 

The  sky  was  clear,  only  it  still  lightened 
over  the  Taunus  mountains.  The  com- 
pany took  their  leave,  with  many  thanks 
for  the  delightful  day  they  had  spent,  and 
the  charming  evening.  Even  the  perpetu- 
ally silent  "  Mrs.  Lay-figure  "  now  spoke, 
appearing  in  her  fashionable  new  hood, 
which  she  had  put  on  very  becomingly. 
Just  as  they  were  departing,  the  physician 
made  his  appearance.    He  had  been  de- 


tained by  the  storm  while  visiting  a  patient 
in  a  neighboring  village.  He  drove  off  with 
the  rest,  having  scarcely  had  tkne  to  say 
good-evening  to  the  Count  Clodwig  and 
Bella. 

Bella  drew  a  long  breath  when  the  re- 
ception was  all  over.  There  was  much 
conversation  in  the  different  carriages,  but 
in  one  there  was  weeping,  for  Lina  re- 
ceived a  sharp  scolding  for  her  behavior, 
in  acting  as  if  she  were  nothing  but  a  stu- 
pid, simple  country  girl.  Instead  of  being 
sprightly  and  making  the  most  of  herself, 
she  behaved  as  if  she  had  come,  only  an 
hour  before,  from  keeping  geese.  Lina 
had  for  a  long  time  been  .  accustomed 
to  these  violent  reproofs,  but  she  seemed  to- 
day to  take  them  more  feelingly  to  heart. 
She  had  been  so  happy,  that  now  the  se- 
vere lecture  came  doubly  hard.  She  si- 
lently wept. 

The  Justice,  who  was  no  justice  of  the 
peace  in  his  own  family,  took  no  part  in 
thli  feminine  outbreak.  Not  until  he  was 
ready  to  take  a  fresh  cigar  did  he  say, 
"This  loquacious  Dournay  seems  to  me  a 
dangerous "  man . " 

"  I  think  him  very  agreeable." 

"Woman's  logic!  as  if  the  amiability, 
instead  of  excluding,  did  not  rather  include, 
the  dangerous  element.  Don't  you  see 
through  this  very  transparent  intrigue  ?  " 

"No." 

"Then  put  together  these  facts:  we 
come  across  him  at  the  convent,  where  the 
daughter  of  this  exceedingly  wealthy  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  is  living,  and  he  acts  as  if  he 
knew  no  one,  and  had  no  special  end  in 
view.  Now  he  wants  to  be  the  tutor  of 
young  Sonnenkamp.    Ha  !  what  a  flash  !  " 

A  bright  flash  of  lightning  illumined  not 
only  the  landscape,  but  the  relation  in 
which  several  people  stood  to  each  other. 
Especially  the  Eden  villa  was  as  clearly 
defined  in  every  part  as  if  it  were  only  a 
few  paces  off. 

"  Just  see,"  continued  the  Justice,  "  how 
this  great  pile  of  buildings  and  the  park  are 
lighted  up,  and  no  one  knows  what  is  brew- 
ing up  here.  Amazing  world  !  Baron  Prank- 
en  introduces  this  Dournay  to  his  sister- 
in-law  and  his  father-in-law  as  a  friend,  and 
yet  these  two  men  are  sworn  enemies." 

The  wife  of  the  Justice  was  vexed  with 
her  husband.  He  was  so  animated,  and 
made  such  keen  observations,  alone  with 
her  and  at  home,  while  in  society  he  had 
hardly  a  word  to  say,  and  let  others  bear 
away  all  the  honors. 

' '  Who  is  the  father-in-law  you  speak 
of?"  she  asked,  for  the  sake  of  saying 
something. 


20 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"Why,  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  of  course; 
at  least,  lie  is  to  be.  That  inexhaustible 
wealth  of  his  is  guano  for  the  Baron  Prank- 
en  ;  he  needs  it,  and  why  should  he  trouble 
himself  about  where  it  comes  from  ?  " 

Lina  threw  her  veil  over  her  face,  and 
shut  her  eyes.  The  Justice  now  explained 
the  special  reasons  why  neither  he, nor  his 
wife,  should  become  mixed  up  in  these  af- 
fairs. 

"  This  captain-doctor  is  a  dangerous 
man,  dangerous  in  many  respects.11  This 
was  his  last  remark,  and  they  were  silent 
until  they  reached  home. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
CONFESSION  OF  TWO  KINDS. 

Otto  von  Pranken  walked  with  his  sis- 
ter Bella  up  and  down  the  garden.  Otto  in- 
formed her  that  he  had  recommended  Eric 
to  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  but  that  he  was  al- 
ready very  sorry  for  it. 

Bella,  who  was  always  out  of  humor 
after  she  had  made  herself  a  victim  to  the 
collation,  turned  now  her  ill  humor  against 
her  brother,  who  had  introduced  to  her  as 
a  fitting  guest  one  who  was,  or  wished  to  be, 
a  menial,  and  above  all,  a  menial  of  that 
Herr  Sonnenkamp.  With  mischievous  sat- 
isfaction she  added  thereto,  that  Otto  must 
take  delight  in  boldly  leaping  over  difficul- 
ties, since  he  had  recommended  into  the 
family  such  an  attractive  person  as  this 
doctor  —  she  made  use  of  that  title  as  be- 
ing inferior  to  that  of  captain.  The  natural 
consequence  would  be  that  the  daughter  of 
the  house  would  fall  in  love  with  her  broth- 
er's tutor. 

"  This  Herr  Dournay,"  she  ended  by 
saying,  "is  a  very  attractive  person,  not 
merely  because  he  is  extraordinarily  hand- 
some, but  yet  more  because  he  possesses  a 
romantic  open-heartedness  and  honesty. 
Whether  it  is  genuine  or  assumed,  at  any 
rate,  it  tells,  and  particularly  with  a  girl  of 
seventeen  just  out  of  a  convent." 

Otto  answered  good  naturedly,  that  he 
had  given  his  sister  credit  for  a  less  common- 
place imagination  ;  moreover,  that  Eric  was 
an  acknowledged  woman-hater,  who  would 
never  love  a  real  woman  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Yet  Pranken  declared  his  intention  of  call- 
ing the  next  morning  at  the  villa,  and  tell- 
ing Herr  Sonnenkamp  in  confidence  how 
very  reluctant  he  was  to  give  the  recommen- 
dation ;  that  he  should  beseech  him  to  dis- 
miss the  applicant  politely,  for  he  might  with 
propriety  and  justice  say  that  Eric  would 
inoculate  the  boy  with  radical  ideas ;  yes, 
that  it  might  further  be  said  to  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp, that  to  receive  Eric  would  be 


displeasing  at  court.  This  last  reason,  he 
thought,  would  carry  all  before  it.  Pran- 
ken had  worked  himself  into  the  belief  that 
to  have  a  secure  position  in  the  court-circle 
was  the  highest  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
could  aim  at. 

Bella  rejected  this  plan ;  she  took  pleas- 
ure in  inciting  her  brother  to  gain  the  vic- 
tory over  such  an  opponent ;  that  would  in- 
spire him  with  fresh  animation.  Moreover, 
that  it  might  be  well  to  offset  the  Lady 
Perini,  whose  ecclesiastical  tendencies  no 
one  had  thoroughly  fathomed,  by  a  man 
who  was  a  representative  of  the  world,  and 
under  obligations  of  gratitude  to  them. 
And  further  it  was  not  to  be  doubted  that 
a  perpetual,  secret  war  would  exist  between 
Donna  Perini  and  this  over-confident  Dour- 
nay,  so  that,  whatever  might  happen,  they 
would  have  the  regulation  and  disposal  of 
matters  in  their  own  hands. 

Bella  forgot  all  her  vexation,  for  a  whole 
web  of  intrigue  unfolded  itself  clearly  to  her 
sight,  agreeable  in  the  prosecution,  and 
tending  to  one  result.  She  was  the  confi- 
dante of  Fraulein  Perini,  but  she  herself 
did  not  wholly  trust  her,  and  Otto  must  re- 
main intimate  with  Eric ;  and  in  this  way, 
they  would  hold  the  Sonnenkamp  family  in 
their  hands,  for  Eric  would  undoubtedly  ac- 
quire great  influence. 

Otto  strenuously  resisted  the  carrying  out 
of  the  part  assigned  to  him,  but  he  was  not 
let  off.  A  cat  sitting  quiet  and  breathless 
before  a  mouse-hole  will  not  be  enticed 
away,  for  she  knows  that  the  mouse  will 
come  out ;  it  is  nibbling  already ;  and  then 
there  is  a  successful  spring.  Bella  had 
one  means  of  inducing  her  brother  to  do  as 
she  wished ;  she  need  only  repeat  to  him 
how  irresistible  he  was,  and  how  necessa- 
ry it  was  for  him  to  gain  that  self-confidence 
which  had  hitherto  stood  him  in  such  good 
part.  Otto  was  not  fully  convinced,  but  he 
was  persuaded  that  he  soon  would  be. 
And,  moreover,  this  Dournay  was  a  poor 
man  whom  one  must  help ;  he  had  taken  to- 
day the  sudden  revelation  of  his  position 
in  life  with  a  good  grace,  and  behaved  very 
well. 

Whilst  brother  and  sister  promenaded  in 
the  garden,  Eric  sat  in  the  study  of  Count 
Clodwig,  that  was  lighted  by  a  branching 
lamp.  They  sat  opposite,  in  arm-chairs,  at 
the  long  writing-table.  "I  regret,11  Clod- 
wig  began,  "that  the  physician  came  so 
late  ;  he  has  a  rough  rind,  but  a  sound  heart. 
I  think  that  you  and  he  will  be  good 
friends." 

Eric  said  nothing,  and.  Clodwig  contin- 
ued :  "I  cannot  understand  why  my  broth- 
er-in-law, in  his  peculiar  manner,  informed 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


21 


the  company  so  suddenly  of  your  intention. 
Now  it  is  a  common  topic  of  conversation, 
and  your  excellent  project  loses  its  first 
naive  charm." 

Eric  replied  with  great  decision,  that  we 
must  allow  the  deed  resolved  upon  in  med- 
itation to  come  into  the  cold  sharp  air  of 
the  critical  understanding. 

Clodwig  again  gazed  at  him  fixedly,  ap- 
parently surprised  that  this  man  should  be 
so  well  armed  at  all  points ;  and  placing 
his  small  hand  upon  a  portfolio  before  him 
as  if  he  were  writing  down  something  new, 
he  resumed :  — 

"  I  have,  to-day,  been  confirmed  anew  in 
an  old  opinion.  People  generally  regard 
private  employment  as  a  degradation,  re- 
gardless of  the  consideration  that  the  im- 
portant thing  is,  in  what  spirit  one  serves, 
and  not  whom  he  serves.  '  I  serve,1  is  the 
motto  of  my  maternal  ancestors." 

The  old  man  paused,  and  Eric  did  not 
know  whether  he  was  going  on,  or  waited  i 
for  a  reply;  but  Clodwig  continued:  "It 
is  regarded  as  highly  honorable  when  a 
general  officer,  or  a  state  official  undertakes 
the  education  of  a  prince  ;  but  is  it  any  the 
less  honorable  to  engage  in  the  work  of  ed- 
ucating thirty  peasant  lads,  or  to  devote 
one's  self,  as  you  do,  to  the  bringing  up  of 
this  wealthy  youth  ?  And  now  I  have  one 
request  to  make  of  you." 

"  My  only  desire  is  to  grant  it." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  as  exactly  as  possible 
how  you  have  so  —  I  mean,  how  you  have 
become  what  you  are  ?  " 

"  Most  willingly ;  and  I  will  deserve  the 
honor  of  being  allowed  to  speak  so  unre- 
servedly, by  not  being  too  modest.  I  will 
speak  to  you  as  to  myself.11 

Clodwig  rang  a  bell  that  stood  upon  the 
table,  and  a  servant  entered.  "Robert, 
what  room  is  assigned  to  the  doctor  ? 11 
"  The  brown  one  directly  over  the  count's 
chamber.11  "  Let  the  captain  have  the  bal- 
cony chamber."  "If  the  count  will  par- 
don me,  the  luggage  of  Leonhard,  Prince 
of  Saxony,  is  still  in  that  room."  "No 
matter ;  and,  one  thing  more,  I  desire  not 
to  be  interrupted  until  I  ring.11 

The  servant  departed,  and  Clodwig  set- 
tled himself  in  the  arm-chair,  drawing  a 
plush  sofa-blanket  over  his  knees  ;  then  he 
said,  "If  I  shut  my  eyes,  do  not  think  that 
I  am  asleep." 

In  the  manner  with  which  Clodwig  now 
bade  Eric  speak  out  frankly,  there  was  a 
trustful  kindness,  very  far  removed  from  all 
patronizing  condescension;  it  expressed, 
rather,  an  intimate  sympathy  and  a  most 
hearty  confidence.    Eric  began. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
A  SEEKER. 

"  I  am  twenty-eight  years  old,  and  when 
I  review  my  life,  it  seems  to  me  so  far  to 
have  been  xmly  a  search.  One  occupation 
leaves  so  many  faculties  dormant,  and  yet 
the  torture  of  making  a  choice  must  come 
to  an  end ;  and  in  every  calling  of  life  the 
entire  manhood  may  be  maintained  and 
called  forth  into  action. 

"I  am  the  child  of  a  perfectly  happy 
marriage,  and  you  know  what  that  means. 
I  shared,  from  my  third  year,  the  education 
of  the  Prince  Leonhard.  There  was  a  per- 
petual opposition  between  us,  the  reason  of 
which  I  did  not  discover  until  later,  when 
an  open  breach  occurred.  I  then  saw  for 
the  first  time,  that  a  sort  of  dissimulation, 
which  does  not  agree  with  good  comrade- 
ship, had  made  me  outwardly  deferential, 
and  inwardly  uneasy  and  irritated.  Per- 
haps nothing  is  more  opposed  to  the  very 
nature  of  a  child  than  a  perpetual  deference 
and  compliant  acquiescence. 

"  I  entered  the  military  school,  where  I 
received  marked  respect,  because  I  had 
been  the  comrade  of  the  prince.  My  father 
was  there  my  special  instructor,  and  there 
I  lived  two  years  with  your  brother-in-law. 
I  was  not  distinguished  as  a  scholar. 

"  One  of  the  happiest  days  of  my  life 
was  the  one  on  which  I  wore  my  epaulets 
for  the  first  time ;  and  though  the  day  on 
which  I  laid  aside  my  uniform  was  not  less 
happy,  I  am  not  yet  free  from  inconsistency. 
I  cannot, to  this  day,  see  a  battery  of  artil- 
lery pass  by  without  feeling  my  heart  beat 
quicker. 

"  I  travel  backwards  and  forwards,  and  I 
pray  you  to  excuse  disconnected  narration. 
I  have,  to-day,  been  through  such  a  various 
experience  ;  but  I  will  now  endeavor  to  tell 
my  story  more  directly  and  concisely. 

"  Soon  after  I  became  lieutenant,  my  pa- 
rents removed  to  the  university  city :  I  was 
now  left  alone.  I  was,  for  a  whole  year, 
contented  with  myself  and  happy,  like 
every  one  around  me.  I  can  remember 
now  the  very  hour  of  a  beautiful  autumn 
afternoon, — I  still  see  the  tree,  and  hear 
the  magpie  in  its  branches,  —  when  I  sud- 
denly reined  in  my  horse,  and  something 
within  me  asked,  '  What  art  thou  doing  in 
the  world  ?  training  thyself  and  thy  recruits 
to  kill  thy  fellow-men  in  the  most  scientific 
manner  ? 1 " 

"  Allow  me  to  ask  one  question,"  Clod- 
wig mildly  interrupted.  "  Did  the  military 
school  never  seem  to  you  a  school  of  men, 
and  part  of  your  profession  ?  " 


22 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


Eric  was  confused,  and  replied  in  the 
negative ;  then  collecting  his  thoughts,  he 
resumed:  "  I  sought  to  drive  away  oppres- 
sive thoughts,  but  they  would  not  leave 
me.  I  had  fallen  out  with  myself  and  my 
occupation.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  useless 
to  myself  and  to  the  world  I  seemed  to  be, 
—  all  was  empty,  bare,  desolate.  There 
were  days  when  I  was  ashamed  of  my  dress, 
that  I,  a  sound,  strong  man,  should  be  loaf- 
ing about  so  well  dressed,  my  horse  perhaps 
consuming  the  oats  of  some  poor  man." 

"  That  is  morbid,1'  Clodwig  struck  in 
with  vehemence. 

"  I  see  it  is  now ;  but  then  it  was  differ- 
ent in  the  first  stress  of  feeling.  The  Cri- 
mean war  broke  out,  and  I  asked  for  a  fur- 
lough, in  order  to  become  acquainted  with 
actual  war.  My  commander,  Prince  Leon- 
hard,  at  the  rifle-practice,  casually  asked 
me  which  army  I  meant  to  join  ;  and  before 
I  could  reply,  he  added,  in  a  caustic  tone, 
'  Would  you  prefer  to  enlist  with  the  light 
French  or  the  heavy  Englishman  ? '  My 
tongue  was  tied,  and  I  perceived  clearly 
my  own  want  of  a  clear  understanding  of 
my  position.  How  mere  a  cipher  was  I, 
standing  there  without  any  knowledge  of 
myself  or  the  world !  My  outer  relations 
shared  in  the  total  ruin  of  my  inner  being. 
Must  I  relate  to  you  all  these  petty  annoy- 
ances ?  I  deserved  to  have  them,  for  there 
was  in  me  nothing  but  contradiction,  and 
my  whole  life  was  one  single  great  lie.  A 
uniform  had  been  given  me ;  I  was  not  my- 
self, and  I  was  a  poor  soldier,  for  I  aban- 
doned myself  to  the  study  of  philosophy, 
and  wished  to  solve  the  riddle  of  life.  I 
am  of  a  peculiarly  companionable,  sympa- 
thetic nature,  and  yet  the  continued  life 
among  my  fellow-soldiers  had  become  an 
impossibility. 

"  I  bore  it  two  years,  then  asked  for  my 
discharge  ;  which  I  received,  with  the  rank 
of  Captain,  out  of  respect  to  my  parents,  I 
think.  I  was  free,  at  last,  and  yet,  as  I 
said  before,  it  saddened  me  to  break  away 
from  my  life. 

"  I  was  free !  It  was  strange  to  look  out 
into  the  world  and  say,  World,  what  do  you 
want  of  me  ?  What  must  I  do  for  you  ? 
Here  are  a  thousand  employments  ;  which 
shall  I  take  ?  I  was  ready  for  anything. 
I  had  a  fine  voice,  and  many  people  thought 
that  I  might  become  a  professional  singer, 
and  I  received  overtures  to  that  effect. 
But  my  own  inclination  led  in  a  very  differ- 
ent direction.  An  earnest  longing  pos- 
sessed me  to  make  some  sacrifice  for  my 
fellow-men.  Had  I  been  a  devout  believer, 
I  think  I  should  have  become  a  monk." 

Clodwig  opened  his  eyes  and  met  Eric's 


beaming  glance.  After  a  short  pause, 
Clodwig  nodded  to  Eric,  then  folded  his 
arms  again  on  his  breast,  laid  his  head  back, 
nodded  again,  and  closed  his  eyes.  Eric 
continued :  — 

M  When  I  first  went  through  the  streets 
in  a  civilian's  dress,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  walk- 
ing naked  before  the  eyes  of  men,  as  one 
sometimes  seems  to  be  in  troubled  dreams. 
In  such  a  helpless,  forlorn  state  of  feeling, 
one  grows  superstitious,  and  is  easily  gov- 
erned by  the  merest  accidents.  The  first 
person  who  met  me,  and  stared  at  me,  as  if 
doubting  who  I  was,  was  my  former  captain, 
who  had  left  the  service,  and  was  superin- 
tendent of  a  House  of  Correction  for  men. 
He  had  seen  the  notice  of  my  discharge, 
and  remembering  some  of  my  former  at- 
tempts in  that  direction,  asked  whether  I 
meant  to  devote  myself  entirely  to  poetry. 
I  answered  in  the  negative,  and  he  told  me 
that  he  was  looking  for  an  assistant.  My 
decision  was  soon  made ;  I  would  conse- 
crate myself  to  the  care  and  elevation  of 
my  fallen  fellow-men.  After  entering  on 
my  new  occupation  I  wrote  to  my  parents. 
My  father  replied  to  me,  that  he  appreciat- 
ed my  efforts,  but  foresaw  with  certainty 
that  my  natural  love  of  beauty  would  make 
a  life  among  criminals  unbearable  to  me ; 
he  was  right.  I  tried  with  all  my  might  to 
keep  in  subjection  a  longing  for  the  higher 
luxuries  of  life,  but  in  vain.  I  was  without 
that  peculiar  natural  vein,  or  perhaps  had 
not  reached  that  elevated  standpoint,  which 
enables  one  to  look  upon  and  to  treat  all 
the  aspects  of  life  as  so  many  natural  phe- 
nomena. In  my  captain's  unilormj  received 
more  respect  from  the  prisoners  than  in  my 
citizen's  dress.  This  experience  was  a  sort 
of  nightmare  to  me.  Life  among  the  con- 
victs, who  were  either  hardened  brutes  or 
cunning  hypocrites,  became  a  hell  to  me, 
and  this  hell  had  one  peculiar  torment.  I 
fell  into  a  mood  of  morbid  self-criticsm,  be- 
cause I  could  not  forget  the  world,  but  was 
constantly  trying  to  guess  the  thoughts  of 
others.  I  tormented  myself  by  imagining 
what  men  said  of  my  course.  In  their  eyes 
I  seemed  to  myself  now  an  idealistic  vaga- 
bond, if  you  will  allow  the  expression.  This 
I  was  not,  and  would  not  be,  and  above  all, 
I  was  determined  that  my  enemies  and  de- 
riders  should  not  have  the  triumph  of  see- 
ing me  the  wreck  of  a  fickle  and  purpose- 
less existence. 

"  Ah,  I  vexed  myself  unnecessarily;  for 
who  has  time  or  inclination  to  look  for  a 
man  who  has  disappeared  !  Men  bury  the 
dead,  and  go  back  to  their  every-day  work, 
and  so  they  bury  the  living  too.  I  do  not 
reproach  them  for  it,  it  must  be  so. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


23 


"  It  became  clear  to  me  that  I  was  not  fitted 
for  the  calling  I  had  chosen.  I  lived  too 
much  within  myself,  and  tried  in  every 
event  to  study  the  foundation  and  growth 
of  character  of  those  around  me,  not  will- 
ing to  acknowledge  that  the  nature  and  ac- 
tions of  men  do  not  develope  themselves  so 
logically  as  I  had  thought.  Besides,  I  was 
too  impassioned,  and  possessed  by  a  constant 
longing  for  the  beautiful. 

"  I  thought  of  emigrating  to  the  New 
World,  but  what  should  I  do  there  ?  Was 
it  worth  while  to  have  borne  such  varied 
experiences  and  struggles  in  order  to  turn 
a  bit  of  the  primeval  forest  into  a  corn- 
field? Still,  one  consideration  drew  me 
toward  America.  My  father's  only  broth- 
er, the  proprietor  of  a  manufactory  of  jew- 
elry, lived  there,  but  was  quite  lost  to  us. 
He  had  loved  my  mother's  sister,  but  his 
suit  was  somewhat  harshly  rejected,  and  he 
left  Europe  for  the  New  World.  He  cast 
off  all  connection  with  his  home  and  family, 
and  turned  out  of  his  house  in  New  York  a 
friend  of  my  father's  who  guardedly  men- 
tioned us  to  him.  He  would  hear  nothing 
of  us,  nor  even  of  Europe.  I  imagined 
that  I  could  reconcile  my  uncle,  and  you 
know  that  a  man  in  desperate  circumstances 
looks  for  salvation  to  the  most  adventurous 
undertakings. 

"My  good  father  helped  me.  What  he 
had  always  recognized  as  my  true  vocation, 
from  which  I  had  turned  blinded  by  the  at- 
tractions of  army  life,  I  now  saw  plainly. 
A  thirst  for  loneliness  arose  within  me ;  I 
felt  that  I  must  find  some  spot  of  earth 
where  no  disturbing  tone  could  penetrate 
the  inner  life,  where  I  could  immerse  my- 
self in  solitude.  This  solitude  which  is  in- 
clusive of  all  true  life,  study,  the  world  of 
letters,  now  offered  to  me.  My  father  helped 
me,  while  showing  me  tkat  my  past  life  was 
not  wasted,  but  must  give  me  a  new  direc- 
tion and  a  peculiar  success.  He  brought 
me  a  birth-day  gift  which  I  had  received  in 
my  cradle ;  the  senate  of  the  University, 
in  which  he  had  lectured  before  his  appoint- 
ment as  tutor  of  the  prince,  had  bestowed 
upon  me  soon  after  my  birth  its  certificate 
of  matriculation,  as  a  new-born  prince  re- 
ceives a  military  commission." 

Clodwig  laughed  heartily,  rubbed  his 
eyes,  leaned  forward  with  both  hands  on 
his  knees,  looked  kindly  at  Eric,  and  begged 
him  to  go  on. 

"  I  have  little  more  to  tell  you.  I  soon 
schooled  myself,  or  rather  my  father  schooled 
me,  to  live  for  universal  ends,  and  to  put 
aside  all  personal  aims  as  much  as  possible. 
I  devoted  myself  to  the  study  of  ancient 


literature,  and  every  aspiration  for  the 
beautiful, which  had  idealized  the  poet's  vo- 
cation for  me,  found  satisfaction  in  my  in- 
troduction to  the  classic  world.  '  Every 
man  may  glory  in  his  industry,1  says  the 
poet.  I  worked  faithfully,  and  felt  only  in 
my  father's  house  the  happiness  of  a  child, 
and  in  my  youth  the  joy  of  mental  growth. 
My  father  hoped  that  success  would  be 
granted  me  where  he  had  failed ;  he  made 
me  heir  of  those  ideas  which  he  could  neith- 
er establish  as  scientific  truth,  nor  impart 
from  his  professor's  chair.  If  there  ever 
were  a  happy  home,  made  holy  by  lofty  as- 
piration, it  was  my  parents'  house.  There 
my  younger  brother  died,  now  very  nearly 
a  year  ago ;  my  father,  who  already  was 
sorely  sick  at  heart,  with  all  his  stoic  forti- 
tude could  not  bear  this  blow.  It  is  two 
months  since  he  also  died.  I  kept  down  the 
anguish  of  my  bereavement,  finished  my 
studies,  and  received  my  doctor's  degree  a 
few  days  ago.  My  mother  and  I  formed 
various  plans,  but  have  not  yet  decided 
upon  any.  I  made  this  excursion  to  the 
Rhine  in  compliance  with  my  mother's  ad- 
vice, for  I  have  been  working  very  hard ; 
on  my  return  we  meant  to  come  to  some 
decision.  I  met  your  brother-in-law,  and 
I  feel  it  my  duty  not  to  turn  away  from  the 
opening  which  has  offered.  I  am  ready  to 
enter  into  private  service,  knowing  what  I 
undertake,  and  believing  that  I  am  thor- 
oughly equipped  for  it.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  thought  I  could  find  satisfaction  only 
in  working  for  some  great  public  interest ; 
now  I  should  be  content  to  educate  a  sin- 
gle human  being,  still  more  to  co-operate  in 
training  to  a  fitness  for  his  great  duties  one, 
who,  by  his  future  lordship  over  vast  pos- 
sessions, represents  in  himself  manifold  hu- 
man interests. 

"  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  my  story.  I 
do  not  wish  that  any  one  should  think  better 
of  me  than  I  deserve,  but  I  also  wish  to 
pass  for  what  I  believe  I  am.  I  am  neither 
modest  nor  conceited  ;  I  may  be  in  danger- 
ous ignorance,  for  I  do  not  in  the  least 
know  how  I  am  regarded  by  others ;  I  have 
shown  only  what  I  find  in  myself  by  honest 
self-examination.  I  mean  to  be  a  teacher. 
He  who  would  live  in  the  spirit,  and  has  not 
the  artist's  creative  power,  must  be  a 
teacher ;  for  the  teacher  is,  so  to  speak,  the 
artisan  of  the  higher  being,  and,  like  every 
artisan,  is  so  much  the  better  workman,  or 
teacher,  the  more  of  the  artist  spirit  he  has 
and  uses.  A  thought  is  the  best  gift  which 
man  can  bestow  upon  man,  and  what  I  give 
my  pupil  is  no  longer  my  own.  But  par- 
don me  for  having  fallen  into  this  vein  of 


24 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


preachifig.  I  have  shown  you  my  whole 
life,  as  well  as  I  can ;  where  I  have  left  any 
gaps,  pray  question  me.'1 

"Nothing  further  is  needed,"  said  Clod- 
wig,  rising,  and  quietly  laying  aside  the 
sofa-blanket.  "  Only  one  question.  Have 
you  never  had  the  desire  to  marry,  or  has 
that  not  entered  into  your  plans  ?  " 

"No,  I  shall  not  marry.  I  have  heard 
so  many  men  say,  1  Yes,  ideals,  I  had  them 
too,  but  now  I  live  in  and  for  my  family.' 
I  will  not  sacrifice  everything  higher  to  the 
caprice  of  a  pretty  woman.  I  know  that  I 
am  at  variance  with  the  world ;  I  cannot 
dissemble,  nor  can  I  change  my  own  way 
of  thinking,  nor  bring  others  over  to  mine. 
I  have  set  myself  a  difficult  life-task,  which 
can  be  best  carried  out  alone." 

Clodwig  stepped  quickly  towards  Eric 
and  said :  — 


"I  give  you  my  hand  again.  This  hand 
shall  never  be  withdrawn  from  you,  so  long 
as  it  has  life.  I  had  something  else  in  view 
for  you,  but  .now  I  cannot  and  need  not 
speak  of  it ;  I  will  subdue  my  own  wishes. 
Enough;  press  on  quietly  and  firmly  to- 
wards your  goal ;  whatever  I  can  do  to  help 
you  reach  it,  you  have  a  right  to  demand. 
Remember  you  have  a  claim  upon  me.  in 
every  situation  and  condition  of  your  life. 
You  cannot  yet  estimate  what  you  have  given, 
and  are  still  giving  me.  Good  night,  my 
dear  young  friend." 

The  count  hastily  withdrew,  as  if  to 
avoid  any  further  emotion.  Eric  stood 
still,  looking  at  the  empty  chair  and  the 
sofa-blanket  as  if  all  were  a  dream,  until  a 
servant  came, and,  in  a  very  respectful  man- 
ner, conducted  him  to  his  room. 


I 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


25 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  GOOD  HOST. 

When  a  man  has  laid  open  his  whole  his- 
tory to  another,  he  often  seems  to  himself 
emptied,  hollow,  and  void,  — what  is  left  of 
him?  how  small  and  contemptible  he  ap- 
pears !  But  it  was  quite  otherwise  with 
Eric.  From  a  tower  below  in  the  valley 
rang  clear  a  silver -toned  midnight  bell, 
hung  there  in  ancient  times  by  a  noble  lady, 
to  guide  the  lost  wanderer  in  the  forest  to  a 
human  dwelling.  Eric  heard  it,  and  saw  in 
fancy  the  confessional  in  the  church,  with 
its  believers  bending  before  it,  or  passing 
out  into  the  world  again  made  strong  by  its 
blessing.  He  had  confessed  to  a  man 
whose  life  was  consecrated  by  a  pure  spirit, 
and  felt  himself  not  impoverished,  but  ele- 
vated and  strengthened,  armed  with  self- 
knowledge  for  every  relation  of  ^life. 

He  opened  the  window,  and  inhaled  the 
cool,  fragrant  air  of  night.  Over  the  val- 
ley hung  a  thin  mist ;  the  clocks  in  the  vil- 
lages struck  midnight,  and  the  Wolfsgarten 
clock  chimed  in  sweet  and  low.  Eric  re- 
signed himself  to  the  influence  of  nature's 
life  and  power  as  it  presses  upward  in  the 
tree-trunks,  moves  in  the  branches, and  re- 
freshes every  bud.  In  the  distance  rolled 
a  railway  train.  The  nightingales  sang 
loudly,  then  suddenly  ceased  as  if  over- 
powered by  sleep. 

In  nebulous  forms,  familiar  and  strange 
figures  gathered  around  Eric.  How  much 
he  had  experienced  in  this  one  day,  though 
he  had  not  yet  crossed  the  threshold  of  the 
house  where  perhaps  his  future  lot  was 
cast !  He  had  reviewed  his  past  life,  and 
had  found  a  home  of  which  he  had  not 
dreamed  yesterday.  Ah,  how  great  and 
rich  is  the  world,  and  true  comrades  live  in 
it  waiting  only  for  our  summons  and  the 
greeting  of  friendly  eyes  ! 

All  the  fulness  of  life  in  the  immortality 
of  nature  and  the  human  spirit  flooded 
Eric's  being.  He  felt  a  blessed  elation  ;  he 
had  given  up  his  life,  it  was  taken  from 
him  ;  he  was  freed  from  self,  and  lived  and 
soared  in  the  infinite. 

The  moon  rose  over  the  mountains,  a 
whispering  thrill  rustled  through  the  wood, 
the  nightingale  sang  loud  again,  the  mists 
rose  from  the  valley  and  vanished,  and  one 
broad  beam  glittered  on  a  glass  dome  in  the 
distance.    There  lay  Villa  Eden. 

Only  after  a  vigorous  resistance  Eric 
finally  yielded  to  weariness  and  closed  the 
window.  A  black  trunk  marked  with  the 
crest  of  Prince  Leonhard  first  attracted  his 
notice,  and  he  smiled  to  see  how  Clodwig  I 


had  shown  his  household  in  what  honor  he 
held  his  guest ;  this  room  had  been  occu- 
pied by  the  Prince  a  few  days  before. 
Eric  then  gazed  long  on  a  bust  of  Medusa, 
fascinated  by  the  grand,  powerful,  beauti- 
ful face  ;  on  the  head  with  its  wildly  disor- 
dered locks  were  two  wide-spread  wings ; 
below  the  heavy  frowning  brow  gleamed 
the  great,  death-dealing  eyes;  the  mouth 
was  haughtily  curved,  and  on  the  lips  lay 
scornful,  defiant  words ;  under  the  chin 
two  snakes  were  knotted  together  like  a 
kerchief.  The  aspect  of  the  head  was  at 
once  repulsive  and  fascinating. 

Opposite  the  Medusa  stood  a  cast  of  the 
Victory  of  Rauch,  that  wonderful  counte- 
nance recalling  the  face  of  Queen  Louisa, 
the  noble  head  with  its  garland  of  oak- 
leaves  not  raised,  but  bent  as  if  in  thought 
and  self-control.  .  .  A  strange  pair  were 
those  two  busts  !  but  there  was  no  more  time 
to  dwell  upon  them.  Eric  was  overcome  by 
sleep,  but  woke  again  after  a  few  hours, 
when  day  had  scarcely  dawned. 

There  are  hours  and  days  of  joyous  and 
buoyant  feeling,  as  if  we  had  found  the 
key  to  all  hearts  ;  as  if  we  held  in  our  hands 
the  magic  wand  which  reveals  all  living 
springs,  and  brings  us  near  to  every  soul 
as  to  a  friend  and  a  brother.  The  world  is 
purified,  the  soul  pervaded  by  the  deep 
feeling  of  unalloyed  blessedness,  which  is 
nothing  but  breathing,  living,  loving. 

Encompassed  by  such  an  atmosphere, 
Eric  stood  at  the  window  and  looked  out 
over  the  river  to  the  mountains  beyond, 
the  castles,  the  towns,  the  villages,  on  the 
banks  and  on  the  heights.  Everywhere 
thou  art  at  home,  thou  art  living  in  a  beau- 
tiful world.  He  went  at  once  into  the 
open  air,  and  strode  on  not  as  if  he  were 
walking,  but  as  if  borne  onward  by  some 
ineffable  power.  Drops  of  rain  from  the 
last  night's  storm  hung  upon  the  tender 
green  of  the  foliage,  on  the  grass  and  flow- 
ers ;  no  breeze  stirred  the  air,  and  fre- 
quent rain-drops,  like  a  sudden  shower, 
pattered  down  from  the  overhanging 
branches.  A  ray  of  sunlight  now  gleams 
upon  every  leaf  and  twig,  and  awakens 
an  inexpressible  movement ;  the  blackbird 
sings  in  the  copse,  and  with  his  clear,  shrill 
tone  is  heard  far  above  all  the  interming- 
ling chorus  of  melodies. 

Eric  stood  motionless  near  a  covered 
pavilion  on  the  very  ridge  of  the  mountain, 
and  gazed  long  at  a  kite  hovering  with  out- 
spread wings  over  the  summit,  and  then 
letting  itself  down  into  the  wood  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river.  What  made  "him 
think  at  that  moment  of  Herr  Sonnen- 


26 


THE  COUNTKT-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


kamp?  Was  it  envy  and  dread  of  the  little  | 
bird,  whom  evil  tongues  called  a  bird  of 
prey ;  and  has  he  not  the  right  to  live  ac- 
cording to  his  might  ? 

Eric's  thoughts  were  wafted  toward  the 
boy,  longing  to  mingle  in  his  dreams,  and 
whisper  to  him,  I  am  coming  to  thee. 
He  endeavomd  for  a  long  time  to  get  sight 
of  the  glass  dome,  but  it  was  nowhere  visi- 
ble. He  went  away  from  the  river  to  an 
elevated  plain,  from  which  there  was  again 
a  view  of  valleys,  heights,  and  mountains. 

He  stood  in  the  midst  of  an  extensive 
field,  and  for  the  first  time  saw  a  vineyard 
which  was  just  being  planted.  The  labor- 
ers held  implements,  like  augurs,  in  their 
hands,  and  making  with  them  holes  in  the 
loose  earth,  they  set  out  the  young  shoots 
in  rows. 

He  saluted  the  laborers,  and  they  an- 
swered him  cheerfully,  feeling  from  the  sound 
of  his  yoice  that  he  greeted  every  stranger  as 
a  brother.  He  inquired  how  long  it  would 
be  before  the  first  vintage,  and  when  an 
old  man  answered  clearly  all  his  questions, 
he  felt  a  new  refreshment. 

This  conversation  brought  him  back  from 
his  state  of  excitement,  back  from  his  wan- 
dering into  the  infinite,  again  to  the  earth. 
He  went  away  expressing  his  thanks,  and 
realising  that  he  must  bring  this  strain  of 
lofty  feeling  into  subjection  to  actual  life. 
He  met  laborers  who  were  going  to  a 
limestone  quarry.  He  joined  them,  and 
learned  that  this  also  belonged  to  the 
count,  who  had  leased  all  his  lands,  not  re- 
taining for  himself  even  the  management. 

Receiving  a  friendly  greeting  from  the 
overseer,  he  was  shown  a  manufactory  of 
cement  near  by,  and  saw  paving-tiles  from 
excellent  patterns  of  the  time  of  the  Re- 
naissance, which  Clodwig  had  recommended, 
and  which  found  a  ready  sale. 

Eric  returned  to  the  Castle,  refreshed  by 
the  breath  of  nature  as  well  as  by  this 
glance  into  actual  human  life.  A  servant 
told  him  that  the  count  was  expecting  him. 
Clodwig,  already  fully  dressed  for  the  day, 
took  his  guest  by  the  hand,  saying,  "I 
shall  ask  you  by  and  by  many  questions, 
but  only  one  now :  —  did  your  father 
despair  at  the  last,  or  —  how  shall  I  ex- 
press it  ?  —  did  he  die  in  the  belief  of  an 
orderly  and  progressive  unfolding  of  the 
social  and  moral  world  ?  " 

Eric  then  depicted  in  vivid  language  de- 
rived from  his  own  recollections,  and  under 
the  inspiring  influence  of  his  morning's  ex- 
hilaration, how  his  father,  on  the  last  night 
of  his  life,  congratulated  his  son  that  he  was 
born  into  the  new  age,  which  need  no  long- 
er exhaust  itself  against  opposing  forms 


|  of  violence.  "  My  son,"  he  said,  "  my  heart 
thrills  with  joy,  when  I  contemplate  how  in 
this  century  a  beauty,  a  freedom,  and  a 
brotherly  love  unfold  themselves  which 
existed  to  us  only  in  the  germ.  As  one 
example,  my  son,  see  how  the  State  now 
educates  its  children,  and  does  it  in  a  way 
that  no  Solon,  no  Socrates,  ever  could  im- 
agine. Thou  wilt  live  in  a  time  when  it 
will  hardly  be  conceived  that  there  were 
slaves,  serfs,  bondmen,  monopolies,  and 
the  whole  trumpery  of  a  false  world." 

Eric  added  how  happy  it  made  him,  that 
his  father  had  departed  in  such  a  cheerful 
mood,  and  that  he,  as  a  son,  could  so  fully 
enter  into  his  hopes,  and  carry  them  out  in- 
to life.  He  spoke  in  such  an  excitable  man- 
ner, that  Clodwig  placed  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  said,  "  We  will  not,  in  the 
morning,  take  such  a  distant  flight."  He  ex- 
pressed also  his  satisfaction  that  he  could  en- 
ter so  fully  into  the  life  of  the  coming  gen- 
eration, for  he  had  always  been  troubled 
lest  he  might  lose  all  hold  upon  the  new 
time. 

"  We  have  had  our  morning  devotions, 
now  let  us  go  to  breakfast,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing round  easily  as  he  got  up  from  his  seat. 
"Yet  one  more  question:  did  your  father 
never  explain  to  you  what  occurred  at  his 
sudden  —  you  know  what  I  mean  —  loss  of 
favor  at  court  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  my  father  told  me  the  whole, 
circumstantially." 

"  And  did  he  not  forbid  you  to  speak  of 
it  to  any  one  ?  " 

"To  others,  but  not  to  you." 
"  Did  he  mention  me  by  name  ?  " 
"  No,  but  he  expressly  enjoined  it  upon 
me  to  inform  those  whom  I  honored  with 
my  whole  soul,  and  so  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Speak  rather  low,"  Clodwig  enjoined, 
and  Eric  went  on. 

' '  My  father,  in  that  last  interview  which 
no  one  knew  anything  about,  was  to  have 
received  from  the  hand  of  the  sovereign  a 
title  of  nobility,  in  order  that  he  might  be 
appointed  to  an  office  at  court.  He  said  to 
the  sovereign,  *  Your  highness,  you  make 
null  the  blessing  of  the  long  years  in  which 
I  have  spent  my  best  strength  in  the  educa- 
tion of  my  youthful  prince,  if  you  think  I 
accept  this  on  my  own  account,  or  that  I 
regard  it  as  something  belonging  to  the 
age  in  which  we  live.1  ' 1  do  not  make  a 
jest  of  such  things,1  the  prince  replied. 
•  Neither  do  I,1  said  my  father. 

"Years  after,  his  lips  trembled  as  he  rela- 
ted this  to  me,  and  he  said,  that  that  mo- 
ment, when  he  stood  face  to  face  with  his 
pupil  speechless,  was  the  bitterest  moment 
of  his  life." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


27 


A  silent  pause  now  ensued  between  Eric 
and  Clodwig,  until  the  latter  said  finally, 
"  I  understand,  I  understand  ;  let  us  go." 

They  went  into  the  breakfast-room  on  the 
ground  floor,  the  doors  of  which  were  wide 
open.  Bella  soon  appeared ;  she  thought 
that  Eric  looked  at  her  scrutinisingly,  and 
quickly  turning  away,  she  went  to  a  side 
table  to  prepare  the  coffee. 

"  My  wife,"  said  Clodwig,  "  has  already 
sent  a  messenger,  this  morning,  to  Fräulein 
Perini,  and  I  have  added  a  message  to  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  that  you,  dearDournay,  would 
present  yourself  this  evening,  or,  what 
would  be  better,  early  to-morrow  morn- 
ing." - 

"And  I  am  to  ask  you  to  excuse  my 
brother,  who  has  set  out,  early  this  morn- 
ing, in  company  with  a  young  man  whom 
they  call  here  the  Wine-chevalier,  to  the 
horse-market  at  Mannheim.  Will  you  have 
coffee  or  tea  ?  " 

u  If  you  please,  coffee." 

"  That  is  fine,  and  on  the  strength  of 
that  we  are  good  friends,"  said  Bella,  in  a 
lively  way.  "It  is  an  abominable  excess  of 
politeness,  when  people  reply  to  such  a 

Question,  1  It  makes  no  difference  to  me.' 
fit  makes  no  difference  to  you,  dear  polite 
soul,  then  give  some  decided  answer,  and 
don't  put  off  the  choice  upon  me." 

A  merry  key  was  thus  struck,  and  they 
seated  themselves  at  table.  Bella  noticed 
that  Eric  observed  her,  and  she  knew  that  she 
looked  better  in  her  pretty  morning-dress, 
than  in  full  evening  costume.  Her  move- 
ments were  very  elastic  and  graceful.  She 
was  a  tall,  noble,  well-made  person;  her 
soft,  dark-auburn  hair,  now  partly  loose, 
was  confined  by  a  fine  point-lace  kerchief, 
put  on  with  apparent  carelessness,  as  if  one 
had  not  taken  a  second  look  in  the  mirror, 
and  tied  under  the  chin.  Her  complexion 
was  fresh,  as  if  she  had  just  bathed  her  face 
in  milk  ;  and  in  fact  she  did  wash  her  face 
in  milk  every  morning  and  evening.  The 
expression  of  her  countenance  was  keen 
and  bright.  All  was  nobly  formed,  except 
that  she  had  a  thin,  compressed  upper-lip, 
which  a  malicious  gentleman  at  court  had 
once  called  the  lip  of  a  poisoner.  It  was 
very  vexatious  to  Bella  that  her  voice  was  so 
masculine. 

Her  personal  charms,  her  cordial  and  at 
the  same  time  arch  manners,  showed  to 
great  advantage  in  the  light  talk  at  the 
breakfast  table  ;  and  when  at  intervals  she 
keenly  watched  Eric,  she  was  surprised  at 
his  appearance.  Yesterday  she  had  seen 
him  first  only  in  the  evening  twilight,  and 
,  afterwards  by  candle-light.  He  was  mani- 
festly a  person  to  be  seen  in  full  daylight ; 


and  in  fact,  there  was  now  a  brilliant  light- 
ing up  of  his  countenance,  for  the  happy  ex- 
citement of  his  whole  inner  being  snowed 
itself  in  his  mien,  and  he  looked  at  Bella,  as 
if  he  would  say,  '  I  have  become  almost  the 
son  of  thy  husband ;  let  the  same  noble  union 
be  formed  between  us.' 

Bella  was  unusually  friendly,  perhaps  be- 
cause she  had  already  used  a  little  artifice. 
A  note,  written  in  Italian  to  Fräulein  Perini, 
cautioned  her  in  terms  as  decided  in  mean- 
ing, as  they  were  carefully  worded  in  ex- 
pression, of  the  necessity  of  subjecting  the 
new-comer  to  a  sharp  examination. 

When  Clodwig  told  the  messenger  that 
Eric  would  make  his  appearance  in  the 
evening,  or  the  next  morning,  she  felt  her- 
self justified  and  at  rest  in  regard  to  her 
previous  artifice  ;  for  Clodwig  had  never  be- 
fore detained  a  guest  with  such  determina- 
tion of  his  own,  and  no  one  could  even 
boast  of  having  made  it  appear  that  he  was 
not  sufficient  for  himself. 

Clodwig  and  Bella  had  promised  each 
other  to  live  only  to  themselves,  and  until 
now  they  had  faithfully  kept  the  promise. 

"I  am  a  weary  soul,"  Clodwig  had  said 
to  Bella  when  he  offered  her  his  hand,  and 
she  had  answered,  that  she  would  refresh 
the  weary  one.  She  had  cut  off  every  re- 
lation with  the  world,  for  she  knew  that 
friendly  visits  last  only  for  a  few  hours  or 
days,  and  make  the  solitude  afterwards 
more  keenly  felt. 

Bella  was  very  amiable  always,  and  to 
everybody,  provided  everybody  always  did 
according  to  her  will,  and  lived  to  please 
her.  She  really  had  no  love  for  people 
and  no  desire  for  their  society  ;  she  wanted 
nothing  from  others,  and  wished  only  to 
be  left  alone.  The  manifold  relations  which 
Clodwig  had  formerly  had  with  men  and 
women  were  repugnant  to  her,  and  he 
accommodated  himself  to  the  wish  of  his 
wife,  who  lived  wholly  for  him,  so  far  as  to 
reduce  his  extensive  correspondence  and 
his  personal  intercourse  to  the  smallest  pos- 
sible limit.  They  kept  up  a  periodical  con- 
nection with  only  two  social  circles  in  the 
neighborhood  :  one  of  these  was  the  so-called 
middle-class  circle  who  were  invited  to  col- 
lation, as  it  was  named,  which  we  made  ac- 
quaintance with  yesterday ;  the  other  was 
a  select  circle,  of  the  noble  families  scat- 
tered around,  who  were  invited  twice  a 
year.  Was  this  renegade  captain  now  to 
change  all  this  ? 

In  the  triumphant  thought  that  she  had 
banished  him,  Bella  became  more  and  more 
talkative.  Eric  could  not  refrain  from 
highly  extolling  that  mirthful  excitement, 
that  exuberant  humor  which  pervades  the 


28 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Rhineland,  and  takes  possession  of  every 
one  who  comes  within  the  sphere  of  its  in- 
habitants. At  last  he  led  the  conversation 
again  to  Sonnenkamp,  by  remarking  that 
the  manner  in  which  the  man  was  spoken 
about  yesterday  was  very  puzzling  to  him. 

Bella  in  an  off-hand  manner  declared, 
that  she  found  the  man  very  interesting,  al- 
though this  was  going  counter  to  the  uni- 
versal Philistinism ;  that  she  regarded  him 
as  a  conqueror,  a  bold  Berserkir,  who  had 
nothing  to  win  for  himself  in  this  stock-job- 
bing age  but  gold. 

There  appeared  to  be  a  sympathetic  at- 
traction between  Bella  and  Sonnenkamp1s 
speculative  and  daring  spirit.  Clodwig  con- 
siderately added, — 

"  I  have  often  noticed,  that  so  long  as  a 
man  is  accumulating  wealth,  his  prosperity 
seems  to  give  universal  satisfaction  ;  men  feel 
pleased,  as  if  they  were  accumulating  too. 
But  when  he  has  attained  his  end,  they 
turn  round  and  find  fault,  where  before 
they  had  commended.  Do  you  understand 
anvthing  of  horticulture  ?  " 

"No." 

"Herr  Sonnenkamp  is  a  very  considera- 
ble horticulturist.  Is  it  not  strange  that 
in  the  laying  out  of  parks  we  have  wholly 
supplanted  the  formal  methods  of  French 
gardening,  which  now  turn  to  the  culture  of 
fruit,  and  find  encouragement  in  the  pecu- 
niary profit  that  governs  all  such  operations  ? 
The  English  excel  in  swine-raising*  their 
swine  being  fat  sides  of  bacon  with  four 
feet  attached ;  the  French,  on  the  other 
hand,  having  taken  to  fruit  culture,  have 
succeeded  in  producing  fabulous  crops. 

"Yes!"  he  concluded,  smiling,  "Herr 
Sonnenkamp  is  a  tree-tutor,  and,  moreover, 
a  tyrannical  tree-trimmer.  To-day  I  can 
speak  out  more  freely.  Sonnenkamp  has 
always  been,  and  will  always  be,  a  stranger 
to  me. 

"  Through  all  his  external  polish,  and  an 
increasing  attention  to  the  cultivation  of 
good  manners,  a  sort  of  brutishness  appears 
in  him,  I  mean  brutishness  in  its  original 
meaning  of  an  uncultivated  state  of  nature." 

"  Yes,"  Bella  remarked,  "  you  will  have  a 
difficult  position,  and  especially  with  Ro- 
land." 

"  With  Roland  ?  "  asked  Eric. 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  boy's  name.  He  would 
like  to  know  much,  and  learn  nothing." 

Bella  looked  round  pleased  with  her 
clever  saying.  The  parrot  in  his  great  cage 
upon  the  veranda  uttered  shrill  cries  as  if 
scolding.  As  she  rose,  Bella  said,  "  There 
you  see  my  tyrant ;  a  scholar  who  tyran- 
nises over  his  teacher  in  a  most  shocking 
manner." 


She  took  the  parrot  out  of  his  cage, 
placed  him  on  her  shoulder,  fondled  and  ca- 
ressed him,  so  that  one  almost  grudged 
such  wasteful  prodigality ;  and  her  move- 
ments were  all  beautiful,  especially  the  curv- 
ing of  the  throat  and  shoulders. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
MEDUSA  AND  VICTORIA. 

Clodwig  looked  down  for  some  time 
after  Bella  had  gone.  He  nodded  to  Eric 
as  if  he  would  greet  him  anew.  But  Bella 
soon  returned,  bearing  the  parrot  on  her 
hand,  and  stroking  it.  She  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  lingering  when  Eric  re- 
lated how  he  had  to-day,  tearing  himself 
by  force  away  from  the  view  of  the  river, 
gone  back  into  the  country,  and  had  con- 
versed with  many  persons. 

Clodwig  dwelt  at  length  upon  his  pet 
theory,  that  traces  of  the  Roman  Colonists 
were  still  preserved  in  the  physiognomy  and 
character  of  the  people. 

Bella,  apparently  unwilling  to  be  obliged 
to  hear  this  again,  interrupted,  with  good- 
humored  impertinence,  —  "When  one  turns 
himself  away  from  the  Rhine,  he  has  the 
feeling,  or  at  least  I  have,  that  some  one, 
it  may  be  Father  Rhine  himself,  looks  after 
me  and  calls  out,  '  Do  turn  round  ! '  " 

"  We  men  do  not  always  feel  that  we  are 
looked  at,"  replied  Clodwig,  and  requested 
Eric  to  give  his  opinion  about  the  earthen 
vase,  a  present  the  day  before  from  the 
Justice,  which  was  standing  on  a  side-table 
in  the  brealafast-room.  Eric  readily  com- 
plied, and  they  went  into  the  adjoining 
room,  filled  with  a  great  variety  of  articles 
found  buried  in  the  ground.  Eric,  fresh  from 
the  study  of  antiquities,  showed  himself  so 
familiar  with  all  the  related  topics,  that  Bel- 
la could  not  refrain  from  expressing  her  as- 
tonishment. 

' '  You  are  a  good  teacher,  and  it  must 
be  a  pleasure  to  be  instructed  by  you." 
Eric  thanked  her,  and  Bella  continued  with 
friendly  affability,  —  "Yes,  indeed!  many 
people  give  instruction  in  order  to  make  a 
brilliant  appearance,  and  many  deal  forth 
their  knowledge  reluctantly  ;  but  you,  Doc- 
tor, teach  like  a  beneficent  friend  who  de- 
lights in  being  able  to  impart,  but  takes  a 
yet  greater  pleasure  in  bestowing  a  benefit 
upon  the  recipient ;  and  you  impart  in  such 
a  way  that  one  is  not  only  convinced  you 
understand  the  matter,  but  believes  that  he 
himself  does." 

Clodwig  looked  up  in  amazement,  for  he 
had  said  the  evening  before  precisely  the 
same  thing  of  Eric's  father,  while  making 
mention  of   the  fact  that  the  only  little 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


29 


treatise  ever  published  by  him  had  received 
the  disinterested  help  of  Professor  Dournay. 

Bella  withdrew  after  having  thus  shown 
her  friendliness  and  her  admiring  surprise. 
The  two  men  sat  together  for  a  long  time 
after  this,  and  then  went  to  Eric's  room, 
where  Eric  handed  to  the  count  a  copy  of 
his  Doctors  thesis ;  and  it  then  first  oc- 
curred to  him  how  strangely  it  had  hap- 
pened that  he  had  there  discussed  the 
apocryphal  treatise  of  Plato,  "  Concern- 
ing Riches,"  and  now  he  was  to  be  called 
upon  to  educate  one  under  conditions  of 
wealth.  Eric  and  Clodwig  were  greatly 
struck  by  this  coincidence. 

Clodwig  requested  Eric  to  translate*  the 
manuscript  from  Latin  into  German.  He 
did  so,  and  it  was  to  them  a  time  of  real 
enjoyment. 

When  they  arose,  Clodwig  observed  to 
Eric  how  strange  it  must  appear  to  him  to 
find  the  Medusa  and  Victoria  opposite 
each  other;  but  he  confessed  to  a  heresy 
which  met  with  his  own  approval,  though 
not  in  accordance  with  the  received  scien- 
tific explanation.  The  Medusa  was  to  him 
the  expression  of  all-consuming  passion, 
which  stiffens  with  horror  the  sinning  be- 
holder who  sees  therein  the  image  of  himself; 
and  it  was  very  significant  that  the  ancients 
represented  this  entire  abandonment  of  all 
the  higher  spiritual  nature  through  a  womanly 
form,  the  unrestrained  indulgence  of  passion 
being  opposite  to  the  truly  feminine,  and 
so  the  more  unseemly.  The  Victoria  of 
Rauch,  on  the  other  hand,  appeared  to  him 
to  be  the  embodiment  of  an  eminently  mod- 
ern spiritual  conception. 

•'This  countenance  is  wonderfully  like  " 
—  he  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but,  stam- 
meringly  beginning  another,  continued : 
"  This  is  not  that  Goddess  of  Victory  who 
wears  proudly  and  loftily  the  crown  upon 
her  gleaming  forehead ;  this  is  the  repre- 
sentation of  victory  which  is  inwardly  sad 
that  there  is  a  foe  to  be  conquered.  Yes, 
still  further,  this  Victoria  is  to  me  the  god- 
dess of  victory  over  self,  which  is  always 
the  grandest  victory." 

After  Clodiwg  had  made  this  remark,  he 
said,  "  Now  I  leave  you  to  yourself;  you 
have  already  talked  too  much  to-day  and 
yesterday."  Eric  remained  alone,  and  while 
he  was  writing  to  his  mother,  Clodwig  sat 
with  Bella  and  said  to  her :  — 

**  This  young  man  is  a  genius,  and  ought 
not  to  live  in  a  dependent  situation,  bound 
to  routine  service  ;  he  ought  to  be  free  like 
a  bird,  singing,  flying,  as  he  will,  without 
any  fixed  and  unalterable  limits  of  time  and 
occupation,  and  especially  he  ought  to  be 


by  himself.  It  is  a  joy  to  meet  with  such 
originality  and  depth." 

"Is  he  not  too  well  aware  of  his  own 
worth  ?  "  asked  Bella,  a  flash  of  displeasure 
gleaming  in  her  eyes. 

"  Not  at  all.  He  does  not  wish  to  shine, 
and  yet  he  is  genuine  light.  I  feel  as  if  I 
stood  in  the  clear  sunshine  of  the  spirit ; 
he  is  a  man  of  pure  character,  and  I  am  at 
home  with  him  in  the  inmost  realities,  as  I 
am  with  myself."  Bella  said  nothing,  and 
Clodwig  continued :  —  "I like  especially  in 
him,  that  he  lets  one  who  is  talking  with 
him  complete  his  sentence ;  he  does  not  in- 
terrupt by  any  movement  or  any  change  of 
feature ;  and  in  such  an  active  and  richly 
endowed  mind  this  is  doubly  valuable,  and 
something  more  than  mere  civility." 

Bella  still  kept  silence,  bent  over  her  em- 
broidery, on  which  she  was  diligently  in- 
tent. At  last  she  looked  up,  and  with  a 
beaming  countenance,  said,  f'l  rejoice  in 
your  joy." 

"And  I  should  like  to  perpetuate  this 
joy,"  Clodwig  replied. 

"  He  is  a  handsome  man,"  added  Bella. 

Clodwig  answered,  smiling,  "Now,  since 
you  have  called  my  atention  to  it,  I  am  re- 
minded how  handsome  he  is.  But  he  does 
not  plume  himself  upon  his  good  looks,  and 
I  think  that  to  be  genuine  beauty,  which, 
when  present  has  nothing  strikingly  promi- 
nent, all  being  in  harmonious  combination, 
but  which,when  thought  of  afterwards,reveals 
new  and  beautiful  attributes  and  forms. 
Most  handsome  men  are  forever  looking 
into  a  mirror  visible  only  to  themselves. 
But  why  should  I  give  up  this  man  to  some- 
body else,  and  above  all  to  this  Sonnen- 
camp? I  am  situated  so  that  I  can  offer 
him  a  home  with  me  for  years  !  Why  not 
do  it  ? 

"Why  not?"  said  Bella,  putting  away 
her  embroidery.  "I  need  not  assure  you 
that  I  have  no  other  joy  in  life  than  yours. 
So  it  is  now  with  this  brief  happiness  of 
yours,  this  childlike  confidence  you  place  in 
this  noble-looking  man.  I  see  also  that  he 
has  something  elevated  in  his  nature  ;  he  im- 
parts much  and  gladly,  is  stimulating  and 
quickening." 

"Why  not  then?" 
.  "  Because  we  want  to  be  alone!  Clod- 
wig, let  us  be#by  ourselves !  It  is  my  desire 
that  even  my  brother  should  soon  leave  us  ; 
every  third  person,  whether  related  by 
blood  or  by  the  most  intimate  spiritual  ties, 
causes  a  separation,  so  that  we  do  not  have 
exclusive  possession  of  each  other." 

While  she  was  speaking,  she  had  placed 
her  hand  on  Clodwig's  arm,  and  now  she 


30 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


grasped  bis  hand  and  stroked  it.  As  Clod- 
wig  went  away,  Bella  looked  after  him, 
shaking  her  head. 

Bella  came  to  the  dinner-table  hand- 
somely dressed,  and  with  a  single  rose  in 
her  hair.  The  men  appeared  weary,  but 
she  was  extremely  animated.  She  spoke  a 
great  deal  of  the  happiness  she  had  always 
had  in  being  at  the  house  of  Eric's  parents, 
.where  no  ignoble  word  was  ever  uttered, 
for  the  mother  cherished  every  high  thought, 
like  a  priestess  tending  and  feeding  the 
smallest  flame  of  the  ideal  on  the  household 
altar.  Eric,  who  thought  that  he  was  proof 
against  any  further  excitement,  experienced 
a  new  and  elevated  emotion. 

They  drove  out  at  noon,  and  Bella  was 
silent  during  the  ride.  They  visited  a  for- 
mer Roman  encampment.  Bella  sat  alone 
under  a  tree,  upon  a  covering  spread  upon 
the  ground,  and  the  men  walked  about. 

When  they  came  together  around  the 
evening  lamp,  Bella  seemed  like  an  entirely 
different  person,  having  for  the  third  time, 
that  day,  changed  her  dress.  She  was  now 
very  lively. 

Bella  had  never  been,  during  her  whole 
life,  dissatisfied  with  herself ;  she  had  never 
repented  anything  she  had  done,  always 
saying,  You  were  fully  justified,  at  the  mo- 
ment when  you  acted.  She  did  not  wish  at 
this  time  to  appear  in  a  false  light  to  her 
husband's  favorite,  or  as  a  mere  trifling 
appendage ;  Eric  should  know  who  she  was, 
that  she  was  not  only  Clodwig's  wife,  but 
over  and  above  all,  Bella  von  Pranken. 

She  was  ready  to  play  as  soon  as  Clod- 
wig  expressed  the  wish  to  hear  her.  The 
quick  and  eager  haste  with  which  she  took 
off  her  ringing  and  rattling  bracelets,  which 
Eric  at  once  with  marked  attentiveness  re- 
ceived from  her  hand  and  placed  upon  the 
marble  table  under  the  mirror,  —  the  man- 
ner in  which  she  poised  her  hands  like  two 
fluttering  pinions,  and  then  brought  them 
down  upon  the  keys,  like  a  swimmer  who  is 
in  his  element,  —  all  served  to  show  how 
resolved  she  was  to  occupy  no  second  place. 
And  never,  since  she  had  been  Clodwig's 
wife,  had  Bella  played  as  she  now  did  in 
the  presence  of  a  third  person,  reserving 
hitherto  her  masterly  performance  on  the 
piano  for  Clod  wig  alone.  To-day  her  ex- 
ecution displayed  such  zest  ^nd  skill  that 
Clodwig  himself,  who  knew  every  peculiar 
excellence  in  her  method  of  playing,  re- 
ceived a  new  surprise  and  delight. 

During  a  pause,  Eric  seemed  to  strike 
the  right  key  by  remarking,  that, after  such 
elevated  enjoyment  in  the  intercourse  with 
noble  persons  and  in  the  wide  survey  of 
unbounded  nature,  there  is  nothing  for  the 


soul  but  to  let  the  feelings  dissolve  and  die 
away  in  the  unlimited  and  shoreless  ethe- 
real atmosphere  of  music.  A  realm  of 
waking  dreams  is  then  opened  to  us,  a 
feeling  of  the  infinite  is  awakened,  that 
creates  a  something  beyond  what  any  word 
or  look  can  express,  and  which  is  never 
unfolded  by  any  sight  or  sound  of  nature 
from  the  unfathomed  and  mysterious  depths 
of  the  human  soul.  As  in  answer  to  the 
inquiry,  what  influence  predominated  in 
him  before  composing,  Mozart  said,  '  noth- 
ing but  music  which  would  come  out,'  — 
the  pure  musical  impulse  without  any  defi- 
nite conception,  without  any  limiting  idea, 
only  a  rhythmic,  billowy  undulation  of 
tones,  —  so  it  is  that  we,  after  the  ten- 
sion of  thought  and  observation,  through 
music  are  admitted  into  that  pure,  unde- 
fined, yet  all-encompassing  realm,  which  is 
a  chaos,  but  a  chaos  that  is  no  longer 
formless  and  void. 

Bella,  who  sat  reclining  far  back  in  a 
large  arm-chair,  gazed  at  Eric  in  such  rapt 
wonder,  that  he  dropt  his  eyes,  unconsciously 
fixed  upon  her.  To  the  surprise  of  both 
the  men  she  suddenly  rose,  and  bade  them 
good  night.  She  first  gave  her  hand  to 
Clodwig,  then  to  Eric,  and  then  to  Clodwig 
again,  and  quickly  went  out. 

Clodwig  remained  only  a  short  time  with 
his  guest,  and  then  he  also  took  his  leave. 
Eric  went,  in  a  sort  of  ecstacy,  to  his  cham- 
ber. How  rich  was  the  world !  what  a  day 
this  had  been  from  the  dawn  im  the  dewy 
wood  even  until  this  moment !  and  human 
happiness  was  a  reality !  Here  were  two 
who  had  attained  rest  and  blessedness,  such 
as  could  hardly  be  believed  to  exist  in  the 
actual  world. 

While  he  was  standing  still  upon  the  car- 
peted stairs,  from  unconscious  thoughts  of 
the  rich  house  he  was  about  to  enter,  and 
conscious  thoughts  of  the  full  and  rounded 
existence  of  his  host  and  hostess,  the  ques- 
tion suddenly  occurred  to  him,  Is  this  beau- 
tiful life,  this  perfecting  of  the  soul  in  an 
extended  view  of  nature,  and  its  saturation 
in  all  that  is  beautiful  in  science  and  art, 
possible  to  wealth  only,  to  freedom  from 
care  and  want,  to  emancipation  from  all 
labor  and  from  common  needs  ? 

As,  holding  the  light  in  his  hand,  he  en- 
tered the  balcony  chamber,  he  remained 
standing  terrified,  as  if  a  ghost  had  ap- 
peared to  him,  before  the  bust  of  the 
Medusa,  which  with  open  mouth  fixed  upon 
him  its  overpowering  and  paralyzing  gaze. 

How  is  this  ?  how  has  this  image  so  sud- 
denly assumed  this  likeness  ?  Did  Clodwig 
have  any  suspicion  of  it?  It  was  indeed 
terrible. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


31 


Eric  turned  about,  and  now,  as  if  it  were 
some  trick  played  upon  him  by  an  evil 
spirit,  the  contrasted  image  also,  the  Victo- 
ria, has  a  likeness  to  Bella  when,  silent  and 
quiet,  she  modestly  and  humbly  bent  down 
her  head. 

Had  Clodwig  any  suspicion  of  this  won- 
derful play  of  opposites,  and  did  he  not 
acknowledge  this,  this  morning  when  he 
avowed  his  heresy  to  the  received  opinion  ? 

The  pulse  in  Eric's  temples  beat  vio- 
lently. He  put  out  the  light,  looked  for  a 
long"  time  out  into  the  dark  night,  and 
sought  to  recall  afresh  to  his  recollection 
the  bright  plenitude  of  the  day's  experience. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
FRAU  ADVENTURE. 

In  the  morning  Eric  put  on  his  uniform, 
for  so  Clodwig  had  advised  with  cautious 
reference  to  a  former  experience.  A  horse 
had  been  placed  at  his  disposal,  and  his 
portmanteau  was  to  be  sent  after  him. 

Clodwig's  contracted  brow  grew  smooth 
as  the  handsome,  noble-looking  young  man 
entered  the  parlor  in  his  becoming  uniform. 
After  greeting  him,  he  pointed  to  Eric's 
arm,  saying :  — 

"Take  off  the  crape  before  you  go." 

Eric  looked  at  him  surprised,  and  Clod- 
wig explained  himself. 

"  You  are  not  to  be  sentimental,  and  you 
must  agree  with  me  that  it  is  not  well  to  en- 
ter, for  the  first  time,  a  stranger's  house, 
wearing  a  badge  of  mourning.  People 
often  desire  a  sympathy  which  they  cannot 
expect  to  receive.  You  will  be  less  dis- 
turbed in  the  end,  if  you  impress  it  upon 
yourself  at  first  that  you  are  entering  ser- 
vice, and  moreover  are  to  serve  an  extremely 
rich  man,  who  would  like  to  keep  every- 
thing unpleasant  out  of  sight.  The  more 
you  keep  to  yourself  your  own  personal 
feelings,  the  more  free  will  you  be." 

Clodwig  smiling  quoted  from  Lucian's 
"  Sale  of  the  Philosophic  Sects,"  where  the 
Stoic  as  a  slave  cries  out,  "Even  if  I  am 
sold,  I  am  still  free  within  myself!  " 

Eric  good-humoredly  took  the  crape 
from  his  sleeve. 

Bella  had  excused  herself  from  appearing 
at  breakfast,  and  sent  Eric  a  message  of 
farewell  till  their  next  meeting. 

The  two  men  were  now  alone.  Clodwig 
gave  Eric  a  letter  for  Herr  Sonnenkamp, 
but  begged  him  not  to  make  any  positive 
engagement  until  he  had  seen  him  again, 
adding  almost  inaudibly,  "Perhaps  I  shall 
keep  you  for  myself." 

As  a  mother  crams  all  the  pockets  of  her 
son  going  away  from  home,  so  Clodwig 


sought  to  give  his  young  friend  all  sorts  of 
instructions. 

"  I  have  but  slight  acquaintance  with  the 
boy,"  said  he ;  "1  only  know  that  he  is  very 
handsome.  Do  you  not  agree  with  me  that 
it  is  a  great  mistake  to  give  a  young  soul 
the  foundation  principles  which  are  to  de- 
termine his  life-course,  before  this  young 
soul  has  collected  the  material  of  life  or 
knows  his  own  tendencies  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  replied  Eric;  "it  is  like 
building  railroads  in  uncultivated  or  half- 
civilized  countries,  before  roads  have  made 
possible  the  interchange  of  agricultural  and 
manufactured  products.  The  root  of  the 
disease  of  modern  humanity,  as  my  father 
often  said,  lies  in  the  habit  of  teaching 
children  dogmatically  the  laws  which  govern 
the  universe ;  it  is  a  superfluous  labor 
based  on  ostentation,  which  is  unfruitful, 
because  it  leaps  over  the  first  steps." 

Clodwig  nodded  several  times.  This 
man  might  be  trusted  to  sail  out  into  the 
open  sea ;  he  would  always  have  a  compass 
with  him. 

The  time  of  departure  came ;  Clodwig 
said, — 

"  I  will  go  a  little  way  with  you." 

Eric  took  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  and 
they  walked  on  side  by  side.  The  old  man 
often  fixed  an  anxious,  affectionate  look 
upon  his  young  friend.  He  repeated  that 
he  considered  it  a  highly  honorable  task 
to  train  the  young  American  for  a  useful 
life ;  then  he  advised  him  again  to  keep 
this  one  object  in  view,  and  to  turn  reso- 
lutely from  all  gossip  concerning  Herr 
Sdnnenkamp,  who  had  certainly  left  many 
rumors  uncontradicted,  either  because  he 
was  too  upright  to  trouble  himself  about 
them,  or  because  he  preferred  to  have  some 
facts  of  his  history  hidden  by  false  reports. 
It  was  undoubtedly  singular,  that  though  he 
was  a  German  by  birth,  not  a  single  relative 
had  ever  been  seen  at  his  house  ;  probably, 
however,  he  was  of  low  origin,  and  helped 
his  relatives  on  condition  that  they  should 
have  no  intercourse  with  him  ;  Major  Grass- 
ier had  hinted  at  something  of  that  kind. 

"  One  thing  more,"  said  Clodwig,  stand- 
ing still,  "  say  nothing  to  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp of  your  having  for  a  short  time  devo- 
ted yourself  to  the  supervision  of  criminals. 
I  would  cast  no  slur  upon  him,  but  many 
men  have  an  aversion  to  persons  of  such  a 
calling." 

Eric  thanked  him,  seeing  clearly  his  ear- 
nest desire  to  smooth  the  path  before  him. 

j  They  went  on  in  silence  until  Clodwig  said, 
"  Here  I  will  turn  back,  and  let  me  give  you 

.  one  warning." 

I     "A  warning?" 


32 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Perhaps  that  isn't  the  right  word  ;  I  only 
want  to  say  to  you,  make  up  your  mind  to 
pass  in  the  world  for  an  enthusiast.  A  man 
who  seeks  anything  in  life  except  profit, 
pleasure,  and  honor,  appears  an  enthusiast 
to  many  people  who  have  no  sympathy 
with  such  a  predilection  ;  the  world  cannot 
be  just  to  such  men,  it  must  condemn  them, 
because  it  sees  its  own  strivings  condemned 
by  them.  You  will  have  to  bear  a  martyr- 
dom all  your  life  long,  if  you  remain  true, 
—  and  I  believe  you  will ;  bear  it  with  a 
proud  self-respect,  and  remember  that  a 
new,  old  friend  understands  you,  and  lives 
your  life  with  you.11 

Suddenly  the  old  man  laid  his  hands  on 
Eric's  shoulders,  kissed  him,  and  walked 
hastily  away,  without  once  turning. 

Eric  mounted  and  rode  on ;  as  he  turned 
the  corner  of  the  wood,  he  looked  back  and 
saw  Clodwig  standing  still.  Bella  had 
watched  the  pair  from  the  balcony,  which 
commanded  a  view  of  their  whole  course ; 
now  she  went  to  meet  her  husband,  and 
was  not  a  little  surprised  to  observe  in  his 
face  an  emotion  which  she  had  never  seen 
there  before ;  he  seemed  to  have  been 
weeping. 

"  You  were  right,"  said  Clodwig  hastily, 
"  it  is  better  for  us  to  remain  by  ourselves. 
But  I  rejoice  in  this  new  generation  which 
differs  from  ours  ;  it  wavers  no  longer  be- 
tween the  two  poles  of  enthusiasm  and 
despair ;  it  has,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  a 
sort  of  intellectual  inspiration,  and  I  be- 
lieve it  will  bring  more  to  pass  than  we 
have.  I  am  glad  that  I  am  not  too  old  to 
understand  these  young  people  born  into 
an  age  of  railroads.  I  admire  and  love 
this  present  age ;  never  before  has  every 
man  in  every  calling  known  so  definitely 
what  he  wishes  and  ought  to  do,  both  in 
science  and  practical  life.11 

Bella  thought  she  must  make  some  re- 
ply, and  said  that  young  Sonnenkamp 
would  be  fortunate  to  have  such  a  guide. 

"It  pains  me  that  he.  must  enter  that 
house." 

"  Yet  you  have  recommended  him." 

"Yes,  that's  it  exactly.  One  is  pun- 
ished sooner  or  later  for  undertaking  any- 
thing with  half-sincerity  or  against  his  real 
convictions.  I  have  brought  myself  into 
closer  relations  with  this  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp, without  really  wishing  it.  In  his 
house  I  always  have  a  feeling  as  if  I  were 
in  a  family  where  horse-flesh  is  eaten.  But, 
good  heavens  !  it  may  be  prejudice,  custom  ; 
horse-flesh  is  also  one  kind  of  meat.  But 
now  I  am  free  from  anxiety  for  the  excel- 
lent young  man." 

Clodwig  seemed  unable  to  cease  talking 


of  Eric ;  and  as  he  recalled  what  had 
passed,  he  was  astonished  at  all  that  he  had 
learned  from  him  in  so  short  a  time ; 
pointing  to  an  apple-tree  in  blossom,  he 
exclaimed:  "Look  at  that  tree  in  bloom, 
which  when  shaken  covers  every  one  with 
blossoms,  and  yet  its  richness  is  unim- 
paired.   Such  is  this  Dournay." 

Bella  replied,  that  it  must  be  a  hard  task 
for  a  man  who  was  so  spoken  and  thought 
of  to  live  up  to  the  standard  expected  of  him. 

"  May  not  such  pleasure  in  imparting," 
she  asked  doubtfully,  "bean  exaggerated 
self-esteem  or  pure  vanity  ?  " 

"  O  no  !  this  young  man  does  not  wish  to 
make  a  show ;  he  only  wishes  that  no  mo- 
ment of  existence  may  be  utterly  wasted. 
He  lets  his  active  spirit  work,  and  he  must 
take  satisfaction  in  the  notice  and  Sym- 
pathy of  others ;  without  this  satisfaction, 
the  pleasure  of  imparting  would  be  impos- 
sible. That  is  the  faith  which  removes 
mountains  of  prejudice." 

"  Faith?  11  said  Bella,  smiling  beforehand 
at  her  own  nice  distinction,  "it  seems  to 
me.  rather  like  the  permanent  embalming 
of  a  want  of  faith."  He  very  zealously  en- 
deavored to  show  how  this  was,  rather,  the 
difficult  and  painful  transmission  of  one's 
life. 

He  spoke  long  and  eagerly.  Bella  ap- 
peared to  listen,  but  hardly  heard  what  he 
said ;  she  smiled  to  herself  at  the  old  diplo- 
matist, who  had  something  incomprehensi- 
bly child-like,  almost  childish,  about  him. 
She  threw  her  head  back  proudly,  con- 
scious of  her  inflexible  virtue,  which  was 
strongly  armed  even  against  her  husband, 
who  wished  to  bring  her  into  constant  in- 
tercourse with  a  young  man  so  richly  en- 
dowed. 

In  the  mean  time  Eric  had  ridden  on 
through  the  wood,  filled  with  fresh  anima- 
tion by  the  happy  chance  which  had  befal- 
len him.  He  took  a  firm  hold  of  his  horse's 
bridle,  full  of  that  confident  spirit  to  which 
every  undertaking  seems  sure  of  success, 
or,  at  least,  of  only  short  and  temporary 
failure.  He  congratulated  himself  on  the 
good  fortune  that  had  helped  him  to  win  so 
easily  and  entirely  a  man  of  refined  char- 
acter, who  was  evidently  somewhat  cau- 
tiously reserved  towards  most  men. 

He  had  left  his  past  life  on  the  mountain 
behind  him,  and  a  new  one  was  beginning. 
Smiling,  he  thought,  The  heroes  of  old 
must  have  felt  in  my  mood,  when  they 
knew  that  they  were  under  the  protection 
of  one  of  the  gods  of  Olympus. 

At  a  turn  in  the  wood  he  stopped,  and, 
taking  Clodwig's  unsealed  letter  from  his 
pocket,  read  as  follows : 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OIST  THE  RHINE. 


33 


"  A  neighbor's  greeting  to  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp, at  Villa  Eden. 

'*  Had  Fate  granted  me  a  son,  I  should 
consider  it  as  a  completion  of  the  great 
blessing,  to  be  able  to  give  him  this  man  as 
a  tutor. 

"Clodwig,  Count  von  Wolfsgarten. 

WOLFSGARTEN  CASTLE,  May  4,  186-." 

Eric  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  rode 
gaily  on  through  the  wood,  where  birds  were 
singing  amid  the  fresh  young  leaves.  As 
he  passed  through  the  village,  he  saw  at  the 
window  of  the  Rath-haus,  behind  blooming 
wall-flowers,  a  rosy,  fair-haired  maiden, 
who  drew  back  quickly  as  he  bowed  to  her. 
He  would  have  liked  to  turn  his  head  to 
see  whether  she  was  looking  after  him,  but 
he  did  not  venture  to  do  so. 

After  a  little  while,  it  occurred  to  him 
that  he  was  very  vain  to  believe  that  this 
lingering  behind  the  flowers  concerned  him 
at  all ;  Lina  had  undoubtedly  expected  to 
see  Baron  von  Pranken,  when  she  heard  his 
horse  approaching. 

Eric  was  now  riding  along  the  river-bank 
in  the  valley.  He  was  so  full  of  cheerful- 
ness, that  songs  rose  to  his  lips  as  they  had 
not  done  for  a  long  time ;  he  did  not  give 
them  voice,  but  sang  them  in  his  soul.  The 
whole  fulness  and  variety  of  thought,  per- 
ception, and  feeling  were  stirring  in  his 
heart.  As  he  saw  the  sun  shining  on  the 
glass  dome  of  Villa  Eden,  it  struck  him  like 
a  lightning  flash,  — 

Why  is  such  a  free,  delightful  existence 
denied  me  ?  why  must  I  labor  in  the  ser- 
vice of  others  ?  Then  came  the  thought, 
But  what  should  I  do  with  such  an  indolent, 
selfish  life  ?  Then  the  riddle  presented  it- 
self, How  is  one  to  educate  a  wealthy  boy  ? 

And  so  strangely  are  thoughts  associated 
in  the  human  mind  that  Eric  felt,  not  that 
he  could  solve  this  riddle,  but  that  he  could 
understand  how  the  ancients  had  repre- 
sented the  idea  of  enigmatical  questioning 
and  the  riddle  under  the  form  of  the  Sphinx. 

Then  again  came  the  inquiry,  How  can 
One  educate  a  rich  boy,  who  knows  that  an 
estate  like  that,  and  untold  wealth,  are  to 
be  his,  and  who  sees  no  need  for  exertion 
in  the  life  before  him  ? 


Eric  had  been  looking  down ;  now  he 
threw  back  his  head  and  smiled  as  he 
thought,  Neither  pupil  nor  tutor  is  a  mere 
abstract  idea ;  both  are  living,  variously  en- 
dowed beings.  Such  questions  can  receive 
no  general  answer,  and  all  riddles  are  like 
stormy  weather  out  of  doors,  that,  seen 
through  the  dim  atmosphere  from  the  shel- 
ter of  a  house,  seems  intolerable,  but  once 
out  in  the  midst  of  it,  one  feels  refreshed. 

All  his  puzzling  doubts  and  speculations 
seemed  cleared  away,  and  he  felt  ready 
armed  to  wrestle  with  the  problem.  "  Come 
on,  riddle,  I  am  ready  for  you,"  he  said 
almost  aloud,  and  rode  on  at  a  quick  trot. 

In  the  midst  of  his  doubts  and  thoughts  a 
pleasant  smile  suddenly  spread  over  his 
face.  He  wondered  whether  he  were  not 
under  some  spell,  and  all  the  frolicsome 
humor  of  youth  came  over  him  as  he  ut- 
tered aloud  a  letter  which  he  would  write 
to  his  mother. 

"Dear  Mother: 

"You  must  let  yourself  be  named  Frau 
Adventure,  for  your  son,  Doctor  Adventure, 
Captain  Hero,  in  the  midst  of  railway  cars 
and  telegraphs,  has  fallen  upon  Dream-land, 
where  he  is  fed  upon  the  sweet-bread  of 
praise,  and  the  sugared  almonds  of  protec- 
tion, by  a  pair  of  spirits  who  watch  over  the 
Holy  Grail.  He  is  now  seated  on  a  bay 
horse,  and  has  the  magic  word  sesame  of  a 
sage  hermit,  in  his  pocket,  and  all  things 
come  at  his  bidding,  and  each  says,  "  Heart, 
what  dost  thou  desire  ?  "  Dear  mother,  if 
you  want  a  quiet  little  island,  only  say  so  ; 
I  have  innumerable  ones  to  dispose  of. 

"  And  there's  a  postscript,  dear  mother. 
Suppose  the  millionaire,  towards  whom  I 
am  riding,  should  be  Uncle  Adam  ?  That 
would  make  the  fairy  tale  complete." 

At  the  thought  that  this  fanciful  conjec- 
ture might  be  a  probability,  Eric  stopped 
short.  Then  he  rode  briskly  along  the 
broad  road,  on  each  side  of  which  grew 
great  nut-trees,  dropping  their  caterpillar- 
Kke  blossoms  on  the  path.  The  horse 
trotted  on  bravely,  his  black  mane  flying  in 
the  wind  as  the  rider  lifted  his  cap  to.  let 
the  fresh  air  cool  his  hot  brow. 


34 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


BOOK  II.  CHAPTER  I. 

A  MORNING  IN  EDEN. 

The  boats  sail  up  and  down  the  river, 
the  railway  trains  move  on  this  side  and  on 
that,  and  persons  from  all  countries,  and  in 
every  relation  of  life,  get  refreshment  from 
the  view. 

There  thou  wouldst  like  to  dwell,  many 
a  one  thinks,  and  to  pass  away  thy  days  in 
the  regular  and  constant  enjoyment  of  na- 
ture, and  in  voluntary  labor,  solitary,  or  in 
the  society  of  congenial  persons. 

The  banks  of  the  Rhine  have  the  appear- 
ance of  being  charming  seats  of  repose, 
while  they  also  furnish  enough  of  stirring 
life.  The  high-road  of  intercourse  with  the 
world  lies  before  the  very  threshold  of  the 
house ;  and  from  the  midst  of  solitude, 
every  hour  can  unite  itself  with  the  great 
world's  varied  and  bustling  activity. 

Cheerful  towns  and  villages  along  the 
banks,  with  their  castles  and  vineyards, 
their  beautiful  and  well-kept  country-seats, 
are  everywhere  seen,  forming  an  almost 
unbroken  chain. 

From  town  to  town,  and  from  house  to 
house,  stories  are  narrated  of  the  narrow 
escapes  of  the  inhabitants,  who  saved  them- 
selves with  resolute  strength  from  the  in- 
gulfing flood,  or  with  the  last  energy  of 
despair  reached  the  shore,  many  being 
dashed  with  violence  upon  the  bank. 

He  who  comes  an  entire  stranger  from 
abroad,  and  makes  his  home  here,  can  feel 
assured  that  it  is  at  his  option  to  cultivate 
an  acquaintance  with  the  old  residents,  or 
to  remain  by  himself.  The  continual  cur- 
rent of  strangers,  coming  and  going,  allows 
him  who  remains  to  abide  in  complete  iso- 
lation. 

Whose  is  that  beautiful  country-house 
yonder,  which  looks  to  the  passer-by,  with 
its  tower  gleaming  from  a  distance,  like  a 
white  swan  nestling  in  the  green  bank? 
Travellers  on  the  boats  passing  up  and 
down  the  river  often  ask  this  question,  and 
receive  the  reply,  that  the  villa  is  called 
Eden,  and  that  it  is  a  real  Eden,  as  far  as 
one  can  judge  from  the  outside,  for  it  is  all 
shut  up  and  guarded,  with  spring-guns  and 
steel  traps  the  whole  length  of  the  garden 
walls.  The  servants  have  permission  to 
show  the  house  and  park  only  when  the 
owner  is  away  on  a  journey,  and  then  they 
take  in  a  great  deal  of  money. 

One  praises  the  wonderful  stables  with 
marble  mangers  ;  another,  the  hot-houses  all 
in  bloom ;  a  third,  the  beautiful  arrange- 
ment of  the  interior  of  the  house  ;  a  fourth, 
the  fruit-garden  and  the  park,  each  one  ac- 


cording to  his  own  peculiar  taste.  The 
owner  is  a  rich  American,  who  has  built 
this  house,  laid  out  the  shady  park,  and 
changed  the  half-swampy,  ragged,  and  un- 
even meadow,  extending  down  to  the  river, 
into  a  fruit-garden  that  bears  fruits  of  a 
size  and  beauty  never  before  seen  in  this 
region.  He  was  rebuilding,  too,  the  ruined 
castle  there  on  the  height. 

And  what  is  the  name  of  this  man  ? 

Sonnenkamp.  Almost  all  his  servants 
are  foreigners  ;  he  visits  only  a  few  persons 
in  the  vicinity,  and  seldom  receives  any  one 
as  a  guest ;  no  one  knows,  indeed,  who  he 
is,  or  what  he  is.  He  has  the  finest  horses, 
but  he,  his  wife,  and  a  female  companion 
drive  and  ride  out  together,  only  at  some 
convenient  point  to  turn  back  again  on  the 
public  highway. 

On  the  morning  that  Eric  rode  to  the 
villa,  a  large,  thick  carpet  was  laid  by  ser- 
vants in  morning  livery  on  the  west  side 
upon  the  extensive  gravelled  square.  A 
round  table  with  green  damask  covering 
was  placed  near  a  many-colored  pyramid 
of  fragrant  flowers,  and  on  the  table  was 
afterwards  set  a  large,  ground  crystal  vase, 
with  artistically  arranged  flowers  and  bou- 
quets, and  plates  for  four  persons. 

A  side-table  was  placed  near  a  blossom- 
ing copse  of  laburnums  and  variegated 
lilacs,  and  on  it  a  large  silver  tea-urn  with 
lighted  lamp.  A  thin  vapor  soon  went  up 
from  the  urn.  Two  great  rocking-chairs 
were  put  in  suitable  places  near  by. 

A  young  man  who  stood  aside,  taking  no 
part  in  the  arrangement,  looked  out  upon 
the  landscape,  where  one  could  enjoy  a  view 
extending  over  the  fruit-garden  and  the 
fountain,  in  whose  basin  two  pairs  of  swans 
were  swimming,  over  the  meadows  ;  and 
now  he  turned  away  from  the  prospect,  in- 
spected the  preparations,  and  with  the 
words,  "All  right,11  withdrew  with  the  ser- 
vants. The  tea-urn  steamed,  and  the  chairs 
and  table  seemed  to  be  awaiting  the  com- 
pany. 

A  pert  finch  alighted  upon  the  back  of 
one  of  the  rocking-chairs,  and  whistled  to 
his  little  mate  in  the  trees :  "  that  was  a 
fine  set-out,  and  he  would  like,  if  he  could, 
to  do  the  same  for  his  little  ones." 

The  forward,  impudent  young  father  was, 
however,  soon  scared  away,  for  at  the  sound 
of  approaching  footsteps  he  started,  and 
carelessly  flew  directly  over  the  hissing  urn, 
whose  vapor  seemed  to  scald  him,  and  to 
change  his  course,  so  that  he  almost  grazed 
the  hat  on  the  head  of  the  man  who  now 
came  in. 

The  man  limped  a  little  with  his  right  leg, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


35 


but  he  knew  how  to  disguise  it  so  that  this 
limping  toned  down  the  formidable  impres- 
sion of  his  powerful,  athletic  frame. 

He  was  a  large,  broad-shouldered  man, 
in  a  well-fitted  summer  suit,  and  a  white 
neck-cloth  with  a  standing  shirt-collar  after 
the  English  fashion.  The  man  of  Hercu- 
lean frame  seemed  to  do  all  he  could  to  re- 
duce, lessen,  and  soften  the  effect  of  it ; 
but  the  finest  garments  could  do  this  only 
in  a  small  degree.  He  wore  a  broad- 
brimmed  straw  hat,  so  that  at  a  short  dis- 
tance but  little  could  be  seen  of  his  shaded 
face.  The  young  man  who  had  superin- 
tended the  arrangements  a  short  time  be- 
fore, bearing  a  large  portfolio,  followed  the 
strong  man.  The  man  in  the  straw  hat  had  sat 
down  in  the  rocking-chair,  which,  together 
with  the  portfolio,  was  made  ready  for  him. 

Removing  the  straw  hat,  which  the  valet 
Joseph  at  once  took,  he  stroked  his  smooth- 
ly-shaven, prominent  chin  with  his  large, 
fleshy  hand,  on  whose  thumb,  strange  to 
say,  was  a  ring  like  a  single  link  of  a  chain, 
a  golden  hoop  with  iron  in  the  middle. 

The  man  is  Herr  Sonnenkamp.  His  red- 
dish face  had  deeply  marked  lines,  and 
over  his  broad  brow  a  lock  of  gray  hair  was 
combed  down.  There  was  a  more  than  or- 
dinary breadth  between  the  bristling  eye- 
brows, giving  to  them  the  appearance  of 
having  been  forcibly  rent  asunder.  Who- 
ever saw  this  countenance  once  could  never 
forget  it. 

The  deeply-set,  light-blue  eyes  had  an 
expression  of  determination  and  shrewd- 
ness ;  the  shoulders  were  broad  and  some- 
what round ;  the  nose  was  large,  but  not 
without  a  character  of  nobleness ;  the 
mouth  was  someAvhat  curved  with  imperious 
disdain.  The  whole  countenance  was  worn 
and  anxious,  but  a  domineering  energy  was 
visible  in  all  its  traits. 

The  impression  at  the  first  was,  that  one 
would  not  like  to  have  this  man  for  an 
enemy.  "  Hand  here,'1  he  now  said,  taking 
out  of  his  vest-pocket  a  ring  on  which  were 
suspended  some  very  small  keys. 

Joseph  held  the  portfolio  in  the  most  con- 
venient position  for  Sonnenkamp  to  unlock, 
and  then  took  out  the  letters  it  contained. 
Sonnenkamp  speedily  arranged  them,  plac- 
ing together  those  with  a  foreign  stamp, 
and  by  the  side  of  them  a  large  pile  having 
an  inland  postage  mark.  Joseph  now  laid 
down  the  hat  and  the  portfolio  upon  the 
empty  rocking-chair,  and  with  his  ready 
scissors  cut  every  envelope. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  quickly  ran  over  the 
opened  letters,  and  put  them  aside.  He 
only  looked  at  the  seal  and  address  of  some 
of  the  inland  ones,  and  directed  that  they 


should  be  placed  again  in  the  portfolio  ;  he 
put  two  of  the  foreign  in  his  pocket,  and, 
placing  the  rest  back  with  his  own  hand, 
locked  the  portfolio. 

The  folding- doors  of  the  terrace  were 
opened,  and  Herr  Sonnenkamp  rose,  taking 
from  the  chair  his  broad  straw  hat.  Two 
female  forms  appeared  on  the  terrace.  One, 
tall,  with  a  long,  pale,  sad  face,  wore  a 
morning  cap  with  deep-red  ribbons,  and  a 
flaming  red  shawl ;  the  other  was  a  small, 
pretty  figure,  with  sharp,  bloodless  features, 
piercing  brown  eyes,  and  coal-black  hair 
lying  flat  upon  the  head ;  she  was  one  of 
those  countenances  that  have  plainly  never 
been  youthful,  and  to  which  advancing  age 
can  do  no  harm.  Her  dress  was  of  black 
silk,  and  she  had  suspended  from  her  neck 
a  mother-of-pearl  cross  that  glistened  and 
shone  upon  her  breast. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  had  that  American 
trait,  including  in  itself  so  much  that  is 
good,  of  respectful  courteousness  and  con- 
siderate care  toward  his  own  household 
and  relatives ;  he  went  to  meet  the  two 
ladies  at  the  steps,  nodded  pleasantly  to  the 
lady  in  black,  and  extending  his  hand  to 
the  lady  in  the  red  shawl,  asked  in  a  kindly 
tone  after  her  health,  using  the  English 
language. 

The  lady,  Frau  Ceres,  did  not  deem  it 
necessary  to  make  any  reply.  She  went  to 
her  seat  at  the  breakfast  table,  and  a  female 
attendant  immediately  placed  a  shawl  over 
her  lap,  and  a  waiter  pushed  under  her  feet 
a  cushioned  footstool. 

The  lady  in  black,  Signora  Boromea 
Perini,  went  to  the  side-table,  and  took 
with  a  spoon  from  the  tea-canister,  which  a 
servant  held,  the  requisite  measure  of  tea. 

' '  Where  is  Roland  ?"  inquired  Frau  Ceres, 
in  a  listless  tone. 

"He  will  soon  be  here,"  answered  Son- 
nenkamp, and  made  a  sign  to  have  him  sent 
for.  Fräulein  Perini  brought  the  first  cup 
to  Frau  Sonnenkamp,  to  whom  it  appeared 
too  great  an  exertion  to  pour  in  a  couple 
of  drops  of  milk.  ■  In  a  very  subdued  tone, 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  asked,  "Will  you  eat 
anything,  dear  child  ?  " 

Frau  Ceres  sipped  a  spoonful,  then  half  a 
one,  and  looked  about,  as  if  spent  with  the 
effort.  It  seemed  to  be  a  burden  to  her  to 
be  obliged  to  sip  the  tea  herself. 

"  Where  is  Roland  ?  "  she  inquired  again. 
"It  is  inexcusable  that  he  is  so  irregular. 
Did  you  not  say  something,  Madame 
Perini  ?  " 

"Nothing,  my  gracious  lady." 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  remarked  in  a  very 
mild,  pacifying  tone,  if  she  would  endure  it 
patiently  a  little  longer,  Roland  would  re- 


36 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ceive,  it  was  to  be  hoped,  a  tutor  at  last 
who  would  bring  him  under  the  proper  disci- 
pline. He  then  spoke  of  the  letter  which 
Otto  von  Tranken  had  written  to  him.  At 
the  mention  ol'  this  name,  Fräulein  Perini  let 
a  biscuit  fall  into  her  cup,  and  busied  her- 
self in  fishing  it  out  again,  while  Sonnen- 
kamp added  that  he  should  read  no  more 
applications,  until  he  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  person  recommended  by 
Herr  von  Pranken. 

"  Is  the  man  one  of  the  nobility  ?  "  asked 
Frau  Ceres. 

"  I  do  not  know,11  replied  Sonnenkamp, 
though  he  did  know  very  well ;  "he  is  a 
captain.11 

Frau  Ceres,  without  saying  anything,  de- 
termined within  herself  to  wait  until  this 
question  of  nobility  was  settled. 

Fräulein  Perini,  feeling  that  she  must  speak 
for  Frau  Ceres  as  if  knowing  what  she 
thought,  looked  at  her  smilingly  and  ob- 
served, "  One  seldom  meets  with  so  perfect 
a  chevalier  as  the  Baron  von  Pranken,  at 
least  not  in  Germany ;  even  more  than  the 
countess  Bella  he  has  11 

"I  pray  you,11  Herr  Sonnenkamp  here 
interposed,  and  his  countenance  had  the 
expression  of  a  bull-dog  trying  to  be  ten- 
der, "I  pray  you  not  to  praise  others  at 
the  expense  of  the  countess ;  the  ladies 
are  bewitched  with  Herr  von  Pranken,  and 
for  my  part,  I  am  with  the  countess  Bella. 11 

Frau  Ceres  gave  an  almost  imperceptible 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  held  the  gold 
spoon  pressed  to  her  lips.  He  boasts  of 
being  fascinated,  she  rightly  thought,  and 
it  is  only  for  the  sake  of  making  a  compli- 
mentary speech. 

"  But  where  can  Roland  be  ?"  she  sudden- 
ly exclaimed,  and  pushed  against  the  foot- 
stool so  that  the  table  shook, and  everything 
upon  it  rattled. 

The  servant,  entering,  said  that  Roland 
would  not  come  to  breakfast,  as  he  did  not 
wish  to  eat  anything  to-day,  but  to  remain 
with  Nora,  who  had  five  puppies. 

"  Then  tell  him,1'  rejoined  Sonnenkamp, 
and  his  countenance  flushed  a  dark  red 
even  to  the  roots  of  his  thin  hair,  —  "  then 
tell  him  that  if  he  does  not  instantly  come, 
I  will  have  all  the  five  young  ones  imme- 
diately drowned  in  the  Rhine.11 

The  servant  hastened  out,  and  a  beauti- 
ful youth,  clothed  in  blue  velvet,  soon  made 
his  appearance ;  he  was  pale,  and  his  finely 
cut  lip  quivered.  He  had  evidently  gone 
through  a  hard  struggle. 

The  boy  was  tall  and  slender,  and  his 
features  were  strikingly  beautiful,  .delicately 
regular  as  if  chiselled.    He  took  off  his 


jockey-cap,  and  showed  his  dark  brown 
hair,  well  arranged  in  thick  curls  about  his 
forehead. 

"  Come  to  me,"  said  his  mother,  "  and 
kiss  me,  Roland,  you  look  so  pale ;  is  any- 
thing the  matter  with  you  ?  11 

The  boy  kissed  his  mother,  and,  shaking 
his  head  as  if  denying  that  anything  ailed 
him,  said  in  a  voice  hovering  between  a 
falsetto  and  a  bass,  "I  am  as  well  as  my 
young  dogs.11 

A  deep  color  dyed  his  cheeks,  and  his 
lips  became  purple. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  punish  you  on  the  day 
that  you  receive  your  tutor,11  said  Sonnen- 
kamp, casting  a  glance  toward  his  wife. 

"I?  a  tutor  again?  no  tutor  for  me," 
replied  the  boy;  "and  if  you  give  me  one, 
I  will  soon  make  him  take  his  leave." 

Sonnenkamp  smiled.  This  bold,  defiant 
attitude  of  the  boy  seemed  specially  to  de- 
light him.  When  Roland,  who  had  just  de- 
clined all  food,  ate  now  heartily,  his  mother 
followed  his  example ;  in  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  her  son  had  so  good  an  ap- 
petite, she  also  found  one,  so  that  Fräu- 
lein Perini  could  not  refrain  from  remark- 
ing to  Roland, — 

"  See,  Master  Roland,  how  on  your  dear 
mother's  account  you  should  come  regularly 
at  meal-time,  for  she  can  only  taste  food 
when  you  also  partake  of  it." 

The  boy  gave  Fräulein  Perini  a  peculiar 
look,  but  made  no  reply ;  there  seemed  to 
be  no  good  understanding  between  the  boy 
and  the  companion  of  his  mother.  Fräu- 
lein Perini,  however,  showed  her  friendli- 
ness toward  the  boy,  promising  to  pay  a 
visit  with  him  to  the  young  dogs  after 
breakfast. 

"  Do  you  know  why  dogs  are  born 
blind  ? 11  asked  Roland. 

"  Because  God  has  so  ordained  it." 

"  But  why  has  God  ordained  it  ?  " 

Fräulein  Perini  looked  puzzled  at  this 
question,  and  Herr  Sonnenkamp  came  to 
her  help,  saying  that  he  who  was  continually 
asking  the  reason  why  would  never  accom- 
plish anything,  and  that  Roland  had  fallen 
into  this  way  of  constant  questioning,  be- 
cause he  was  not  willing  to  learn  anything 
thoroughly. 

Thelboy  looked  down.  A  certain  sullen- 
ness  or  dulness,  perhaps  both,  appeared 
in  the  expression  of  his  face. 

Frau  Ceres  left  the  breakfast  table,  seated 
herself  in  a  rocking-chair,  and  contemplated 
her  long,  delicate,  almond-shaped  nails. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  told  her  what  a  num- 
ber of  letters  in  German,  French,  and  Eng- 
lish he  had  received  in  answer  to  his  ad- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


37 


vertisement;  the  candidates  had  generally 
enclosed  their  photographs,  and  rightly,  for 
personal  appearance  was  significant. 

Frau  Ceres  listened  like  one  who  is  sleepy, 
sometimes  closing  her  eyes.  When  Son- 
nenkamp remarked  how  much  misery  there 
was  in  the  world,  a  constant  looking  for  a 
perfect  success,  to  which  every  man  believes 
that  money  is  the  one  thing  needful,  she 
threw  upon  him  a  sidelong  glance  of  sur- 
prise, apparently  not  comprehending  how 
any  one  could  live,  and  be  destitute  of 
means. 

Fräulein  Perini,  the  companion,  was  a 
useful  mediator ;  she  knew  how,  while  Frau 
Ceres  remained  apparently  or  really  quite 
inattentive,  to  keep  up  the  conversation 
with  short  questions,  or  remarks,  as  she 
occasionally  looked  up  from  her  embroidery 
and  cast  a  glance,  the  real  convent  glance, 
shy  but  benignant,  upon  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 
In  this  way  Frau  Ceres  could  listen,  without 
exerting  herself  to  join  in  the  conversation. 

Fräulein  Perini  seemed  to  serve  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  as  a  person  upon  whom  he 
could  practice  politeness ;  and  they  stood 
in  the  most  courteous  relation  to  each  other. 
He  would,  in  fact,  have  been  glad  to  dis- 
miss her  long  before,  but  she  was  fastened 
upon  him  like  the  rheumatism-ring  which 
he  wore  on  his  left  thumb. 

Frau  Ceres  was  always  carefully  waited 
upon  by  Fraulein  Perini ;  never  alone,  she 
had  a  constant  companion  and  attendant, 
and  when  they  drove  out,  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp always  left  the  seat  next  his  wife  to 
Fräulein  Perini,  riding  backwards  himself. 
He  could  not  be  rid  of  her,  and  it  was  best 
to  treat  her  with  polite  consideration.  Be- 
sides, she  had  many  excellent  qualities,  and 
best  of  all,  no  whims ;  she  was  always 
even-tempered,  never  put  herself  forward, 
and  always  had  an  opinion,  which  generally 
was  one  that  caused  no  discussion.  She 
never  appeared  offended ;  if  she  was  over- 
looked, she  seemed  not  to  notice  it ;  or  if 
drawn  into  conversation,  she  was  agreea- 
ble, and  even  witty ;  she  was  always  ready 
to  help,  to  do  for  and  to  meet  others,  and 
never  talked  of  herself. 

Every  morning,  summer  and  winter,  she 
went  to  church,  and  was  always  in  order, 
as  if  ready  for  a  journey  at  an  hour's  no- 
tice ;  she  knew  where  everything  was  in 
the  house,  and  was  never  in  the  way  in 
travelling.  She  was  always  busy  with  em- 
broidery, and  there  was  no  church  for 
miles  around  which  had  not  an  altar-cloth, 
or  some  part  of  the  decoration,  of  her 
work. 

She  spoke  all  the  continental  languages 
with  ease:  except  German,  which  she  said 


she  never  could  learn.  Sonnenkamp  was 
convinced,  however,  that  she  understood 
it  perfectly,  and  that  her  want  of  compre- 
hension was  only  a  mask  whose  object  it 
was  easy  to  see. 

Her  relations  with  Roland  were  pecu- 
liarly distant.  She  treated  him  as  the 
young  master  of  the  house,  but  concerned 
herself  no  further  about  him,  even  declin- 
ing his  father's  proposal  that  she  should  in- 
struct him  in  the  languages.  She  never 
stepped  out  of  the  circle  that  appeared 
marked  out  for  her ;  after  being  Manna's 
governess,  she  became  wholly  and  exclus- 
ively the  companion  of  Frau  Ceres ;  and 
this  was  a  most  safe  and  honorable  posi- 
tion. 

The  more  Herr  Sonnenkamp  spoke  of 
the  recommendation  of  Herr  von  Pranken, 
so  much  the  more  attentive  Fräulein  Perini 
seemed  to  become,  but  she  did  not  utter  a 
single  word ;  but  when  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
asked  her  what^had  been  her  feelings  when 
she  was  first  introduced  to  the  family  at 
Nice,  she  answered,  "  I  had  the  happiness 
to  be  introduced  to  you  by  my  noble 
guardian,  the  Dean." 

Roland  was  impatient  and  beckoned  to 
Fräulein  Perini  to  go  with  him :  but  Son- 
nenkamp requested  her  to  remain  with  the 
mother,  and  in  order  to  manifest  some 
sympathy  in  his  son's  joy,  he  himself  ac- 
companied him. 

Roland  was  the  only  one  whom  the  dog 
allowed  to  come  near  her  ;  and  when  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  ventured  it,  she  growled,  and 
snapped  at  him  with  her  teeth.  He  was 
very  angry,  but  he  restrained  himself  and 
went  away. 

Roland  brought  his  cross-bow  and  shot 
at  the  doves  and  sparrows  in  the  court- 
yard. Suddenly  the  boy  left  off.  A  horse- 
man, with  horse  well  in  hand,  galloped  up 
to  the  gate. 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  ARROW  CAUGHT. 

"  Shoot  away,  my  boy,  I'll  catch  the  ar- 
row !  "  the  rider  called  from  his  horse,  and 
the  boy  stood  still,  as  if  he  had  seen  a  mir- 
acle. Eric  had  heard  much  of  Roland's 
beauty,  but  he  was  astonished  at  the  charm- 
ing grace  of  his  figure.  The  boy's  whole 
being  seemed  strained  with  amazement  and 
excitement,  like  the  bow  which  he  held  bent 
in  his  hand.  The  rider  feasted  his  eyes  on 
the  picture.  Roland's  head  was  bare,  his 
jockey-cap  lay  near  him  on  a  great  dog 
resting  at  his  feet,  and  jijst  raising  his  head 
as  if  to  ask  whether  he  should  start  up  and 
drive  the  stranger  away. 


3$ 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Shoot  away  !  Eire  !  "  cried  the  rider, 
in  a  commanding  tone.  "  Have  you  no  cour- 
age P  " 

The  arrow  whizzed  from  the  bow,  the 
rider  bent  sideways  and  caught  it  with  a 
sure  hand. 

"  Either  you  are  a  bad  marksman,  or  you 
tried  not  to  hit  me  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Astounded  and  motionless,  with  his  bow 
lowered,  the  boy  gazed  at  him  while  he  was 
approaching  and  dismounting,  and  then 
asked,  — 

"  Can  you  be  the  hero  Siegfried  ?  n 

"  Ah  !  then  you  know  about  him,"  replied 
Eric,  gaily.  "  No,  my  young  friend."  He 
offered  his  hand  to  Roland,  who  seized  it. 

"  Hero  Siegfried  wore  no  uniform  with  a 
red  collar.  But  now  help  me  to  dispose  of 
my  horse." 

"It  is  like  one  of  Count  Wolfsgarten's 
horses." 

"  It  is  his." 

"  Ivan  !  "  shouted  the  boy. 

A  groom  appeared  and  led  the  horse  to 
the  stable.  As  Eric  and  Roland  followed, 
they  heard  from  behind  a  partition  near  by 
a  whining,  and  a  weak  attempt  at  barking. 

"  You  have  some  young  St.  Bernard  dogs 
close  by,"  said  Eric. 

"  Yes  ;  do  you  know  them  by  their  whim- 
per ?  " 

' '  I  can't  tell  the  particular  breed  in  that 
way.  I  saw  a  St.  Bernard  dog  out  there  in 
the  court ;  but  I  know  by  the  sound  that 
these  puppies  are  blind  and  not  a  week 
old." 

The  boy  looked  at  Eric  as  if  he  were  a 
magician ;  he  opened  a  door,  but  begged 
him  to  go  no  nearer,  because  the  mother 
was  very  savage,  and  was  just  then  suckling 
all  the  five  young  ones.  Eric  did  approach 
her,  however,  and  she  looked  at  him  without 
growling,  and  again  the  boy  gazed  at  the 
stranger  in  astonishment. 

"  You  can  certainly  tell  me  why  dogs  are 
born  blind."  he  began. 

Eric  smiled.  A  boy  who  asks  questions 
is  desirous  of  instruction  and  ready  for  it ; 
it  is  only  necessary  to  put  things  before 
him  which  will  lead  him  to  question. 

"Not  only  dogs,"  replied  Eric,  "but 
cats,  eagles,  and  hawks  come  into  the  world 
blind.  It  may  be  that  those  animals  which 
need  sharp  eyes  for  their  support  and  pro- 
tection have  a  gradual  development  of  the 
power  of  sight,  so  that  they  do  not  see  the 
light,  as  the  saying  is,  all  at  once.  Man 
even,  though  he  opens  his  eyes  at  his  birth, 
has  no  real  power  of  sight  at  first ;  he  has  to 
learn  to  see  during  his  first  year.  Man, 
like  the  brute,  learns  to  use  his  limbs  in  his 


earliest  years,  but  one  thing  the  brute  want», 

he  can  never  acquire  articulate  speech." 

A  thrill  passed  over  the  boy  as  he  listened 
to  the  stranger,  whose  words  again  had  a 
tone  of  strangely  magnetic  power.  In  the 
excited  state  in  which  Eric  had  been  for 
two  days,  and  which  reached  its  height  at 
this  moment,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were 
acting  out  a  fairy  tale,  or  one  of  those  dreams 
in  which  one  says  to  himself,  in  the  wonder 
of  the  dream-life,  "  Wake  up,  you  are  cer- 
tainly dreaming  !  "  There  was  something 
which  gave  him  a  sense  of  being  merely  a 
spectator  of  his  own  life,  though  he  knew 
that  he  was  actually  living  it.  He  com- 
pelled himself  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and 
said  at  last,  — 

"You  are  the  son  of  Herr  Sonnenkamp, 
are  you  not  ?  and  your  name  is  Roland  ?  " 

"  Roland  Franklin  Sonnenkamp ;  what  is 
yours  ?  " 

"  Eric  Dournay." 

The  boy  started  ;  he  thought  he  had  heard 
the  name  within  a  few  days,  but  was  not 
quite  sure. 

"You  are  a  Captain  of  Artillery,  sir?" 
said  he,  pointing  to  the  uniform. 

"  I  have  been.  Then  you  know  the  dif- 
ferent uniforms,  my  boy." 

"  Yes ;  but  Herr  von  Pranken  doesn't 
speak  to  me  so  familiarly." 

"  I  think  we  had  better  both  keep  up  the 
familiar  manner  that  we  began  with,"  an- 
swered Eric,  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  boy. 
Roland's  hand  was  cold,  all  his  blood  had 
rushed  to  his  head.  The  boy  was  surprised 
and  taken  captive  in  spite  of  himself. 

"If  you  like,"  he  began  again,  "you  can 
have  one  of  my  puppies.  Two  I  mean  to 
keep ;  one  I  shall  bring  up  for  my  sister 
Manna ;  Baron  von  Pranken  is  to  have  the 
fourth,  and  you  may  have  the  fifth." 

His  face  beaming  with  satisfaction,  Eric 
looked  at  the  boy ;  this  pleasure  in  giving 
showed  that  there  was  something  good  to 
build  upon. 

"Perhaps  you  know  that  in  Homer  the 
host  does  honor  to  a  guest  by  bestowing 
some  gift  as  a  token  of  remembrance." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  Homer." 

"  Have  none  of  your  tutors  told  you  any- 
thing of  him  ?  " 

"  All  of  them.  They  made  a  great  talk 
about  him,  but  it's  stupid." 

Eric  led  the  conversation  back,  and  asked, 
"  Who  helps  you  train  the  dogs  ?  " 

"  One  who  knows  all  about  it,  the  hunts- 
man Klaus,  whom  they  call  the  screamer; 
he  will  be  pleased  when  I  tell  him  that  you 
knew  how  old  the  puppies  were  by  their 
whimper." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 

Eric  nodded.  A  boy  like  this  might 
easily  be  guided  to  knowledge,  if  one  could 
once  get  the  lead. 

Eric  now  asked  Roland  to  conduct  him 
to  his  father.  As  they  were  about  to  leave 
the  stable,  a  snow-white  pony  with  long 
mane  turned  his  head  quite  round  and 
neigt  ad. 

"lhat  is  my  Puck,"  said  Roland.  He 
was  evidently  very  happy  in  showing  the 
stranger  all  his  treasures,  almost  like  a 
little  child  who  displays  a  toy  for  the  won- 
der of  his  playmate.  Eric  could  not  but 
praise  the  beautiful  creature,  which  looked 
at  him  with  great,  wild,  shy  eyes. 

He  took  the  boy's  hand,  and  they  went 
together  through  the  large  botanical  gar- 
den. 

"  Do  you  know  about  plants  too  ?  "  asked 
Roland. 

"  No,  I'm  quite  ignorant  about  them." 

"So  am  I,"  said  the  boy,  delighted; 
Eric's  acknowledgment  of  an  ignorance 
which  coincided  with  his  own  seemed  to 
bring  them  nearer  to  each  other. 

They  passed  over  a  plat  where  men  were 
weeding  and  putting  the  ground  in  order. 
A  little  old  man,  with  a  shy  but  shrewd  look, 
was  at  work ;  he  took  off  his  cap,  and  said 
good-morning.  "  Have  you  seen  my  fath- 
er? "asked  Roland.  "He  is  over  there," 
replied  the  little  man,  pointing  toward  the 
green-houses. 

The  long  green-houses,  constructed  of  pale- 
blue  glass,  came  in  sight.  A  door  stood 
open,  within  which  a  fountain  was  to  be 
seen,  in  whose  gray  marble  basin  lay  blocks 
of  stone  with  water  plants  growing  in  all 
their  crevices.  Some  of  the  trees  which 
needed  protection  from  the  winter  were 
still  here,  and  a  few  which  did  not  thrive 
had  thick  wrappings  on  trunk  and  branches. 

They  heard  a  voice.  "There  he  is  in 
the  cold-house,"  said  Roland.  Eric  told 
him  to  turn  back  now,  as  he  had  something 
to  say  to  his  father  alone. 

The  boy  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot. 
In  Eric's  manner  of  ordering  him  to  go, 
there  was  an  air  of  such  irresistible  author- 
ity that  he  did  not  know  what  to  make 
of  it. 

As  Eric  went  forward,  the  boy  stood  motion- 
less, then  turned,  snapped  his  fingers,  and 
whistled  to  himself. 

Drawing  a  long  breath,  Eric  stopped  a 
moment  to  collect  himself.  What  if  this 
boy  were  related  to  him  by  blood,  and  he 
were  to  find  here  his  missing  uncle  ?  Walk- 
ing slowly  and  composedly,  he  entered  the 
open  door  of  the  green-house. 


SE  ON  THE  RHINE.  39 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  FLAG  IS  HOISTED. 

"Who's  there?  what  do  you  want?" 
was  asked  by  a  form  as  it  raised  itself  up 
from  a  bed  of  black  earth.  A  coarse,  gray, 
sacklike  linen  garment  covered  the  form 
from  head  to  foot ;  it  was  like  that  worn  by 
convicts,  or  rather,  by  the  insane. 

"What  do  you  want?  who  are  you? 
whom  do  you  wish  to  see  ?  "  the  man  again 
asked. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Herr  Sonnenkamp." 
"  What  do  you  want  of  him  ?  " 
"I  would  like  to  introduce  myself  to 
him." 

"  I  am  he.    Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Eric  Dournay.  Herr  von 
Pranken  had  the  kindness,  day  before  yes- 
terday, to  —  " 

"Ah!  are  you  the  man?"  Sonnenkamp 
replied,  drawing  a  long  breath.  With 
trembling  hands  he  unfastened  the  linen 
sack  which  he  wore  over  his  coat,  saying, 
with  a  forced  smile,  "You  have  surprised 
me  in  my  working-garb." 

Rolling  the  sack  together,  and  tossing  it 
away,  he  said,  "Was  no  servant  at  hand? 
Do  you  always  wear  a  uniform  ?  " 

.  It  was  the  uniform  then  that  gave  him 
such  a  start,  thought  Eric.  And,  on  look- 
ing at  the  man,  he  was  sure  that  he  could 
not  be  his  uncle.  The  likeness  of  his  miss- 
ing uncle,  which  still  hung  in  his  father's 
study,  was  present  to  his  mind ;  it  repre- 
sented him  as  a  slim,  delicate  form,  with  a 
very  prominent  aquiline  nose,  and  no  trace 
of  resemblance  to  this  athletic  personage 
before  his  eyes. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  having  disturbed 
you,"  Eric  resumed,  convinced  that  the 
first  impression  had  been  an  unfavorable 
one.  "I  beg  you  indeed  to  excuse  me," 
he  stammered  out ;  "  the  Count  von  Wolfs- 
garten,  whose  guest  I  have  been,  and  from 
whom  I  bring  to  you  a  letter  of  recom- 
mendation, has  —  " 

"A  letter  from  Count  Wolfsgarten? 
Very  welcome.  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
youj"  replied  Sonnenkamp,  taking  the  let- 
ter. 

"We  have  met  very  unexpectedly  — 
there  was  no  reason  for  suspecting  —  preju- 
dice as  men  —  I  mean  —  constraint  —  " 

Sonnenkamp's  tone  had  wholly  changed  ; 
it  had  become  gentle,  kind,  almost  tenderly 
beseeching. 

He  hastily  ran  his  eye  over  the  lines  writ- 
ten by  Clodwig,  and  then  said  in  a  low 
tone,  — 


40 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  I  am  very  glad,  — very  welcome." 

Looking  up  from  the  letter,  he  made  a 
sort  of  bow  to  Eric,  and,  as  if  sure  of  ac- 
quiescence, remarked,  44  a  nobleman — just 
what  a  nobleman  ought  to  be — is  the  Count 
Wolfsgarten.  Do  you  stand  as  high  in 
favor  with  the  Countess  Bella  ?  " 

There  was  a  touch  of  sarcasm  in  the 
tone  of  this  last  question. 

Eric  answered  with  an  unmoved  tone  and 
look,  44  I  am  happy  to  enjoy  equally  the  fa- 
vor of  husband  and  wife." 

44  Fine,  very  fine,"  Sonnenkamp  resumed. 
"  But  let  us  go  out  into  the  open  air.  Are 
you  a  botanist  too?  " 

Eric  regretted  that  he  had  always  neglected 
to  extend  his  knowledge  in  this  direction. 

Out  in  the  open  air,  Sonn^nkamp  again 
surveyed  the  new-comer  from  head  to  foot. 
Eric  now  for  the  first  time  noticed,  that 
wholly  forgetting  his  military  attire,  he  had 
taken  off  his  cap.  And  when  he  perceived 
the  look  with  which  he  was  surveyed,  he 
realised  what  was  the  meaning  of  private 
service,  to  give  up  one's  self  with  his  whole 
personal  being  to  the  dominion  of  an  indi- 
vidual. 

In  Sonnenkamp's  survey  there  was  some- 
thing which  made  Eric  feel  as  if  he  were  in 
a  slave-market ;  and  when  Sonnenkamp 
stretched  out  his  hand  with  a  peculiar  ges- 
ture, it  seemed  as  if  he  were  about  to  take 
hold  of  his  chin,  open  his  lips,  and  examine 
whether  his  teeth  were  all  sound. 

Eric  shook  his  head  at  this  strange  fancy, 
and  proudly  stood  erect,  feeling  that  he 
must  maintain  his  own  ground  steadily  in 
the  presence  of  this  man. 

Sonnenkamp  immediately  gave  orders  to 
a  servant  near  by  to  get  breakfast  ready  at 
the  fountain. 

"Did  you  come  on  horseback?"  he 
asked. 

"  Count  Wolfsgarten  was  kind  enough  to 
furnish  me  with  a  horse." 

44  You  have  already  spoken  with  my 
son?" 

44  Yes." 

44 1  am  glad  that  you  came  in  uniform," 
Sonnenkamp  said,  making  no  further  in- 
quiries of  Eric  what  he  thought  of  the  boy. 

As  if  Eric  were  only  a  distinguished, 
well-recommended  visitor,  Sonnenkamp  now 
exhibited  to  him  the  object  of  his  greatest 
pride.  This  was  a  perfect  collection  of 
heaths,  such  as  is  rarely  to  be  found.  He 
discoursed  upon  the  nice  distinctions  in  the 
different  varieties,  and  added:  44 1  have 
been  where  the  greater  part  of  these  heaths 
originated,  the  table-land  of  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope." 


44 1  am  sorry,"  said  Eric,  44  that  my 
mother  is  not  here,  for  she  would  take 
great  delight  in  this  magnificent  display." 

44  Is  your  mother  a  botanist  ?  " 

44  Our  botanical  professor  used  to  boast 
of  her  proficiency;  but  she  takes  great 
pains  to  avoid  every  appearance  of  being  a 
blue-stocking.  It  must  be  very  difficult  to 
keep  together  these  productions  of  different 
climates." 

44  Very  difficult  indeed.  These  Ericas 
require,  at  the  same  time,  a  regular  tem- 
perature and  a  uniform  moisture.  You 
may  often  have  noticed  how  some  little 
heath-plant  with  its  delicate  blooms,  which 
is  sent  to  a  lady  for  a  flower-stand,  be- 
comes dry  and  brittle  after  a  few  days. 
This  little  plant  will  not  endure  the  dry  at- 
mosphere of  a  room." 

Sonnenkamp  suddenly  stopped,  and  smiled 
to  himself.  This  stranger  professed  only  an 
ordinary  degree  of  knowledge  in  order  to  be 
agreeable,  and  to  let  the  rich  proprietor 
branch  out  and  be  eloquent  about  his  dar- 
ling hobby.  I  can't  be  taken  by  such 
coarse  bait,  thought  Sonnenkamp.  44  Will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  put  this  tub  from  the 
stand  upon  the  ground?"  he  said,  pointing 
to  a  very  large  Erica. 

A  momentary  glance  made  Sonnenkamp 
aware  that  Eric  understood  well  enough 
that  the  motive  was  to  find  out  whether  he 
knew  how  to  make  himself  serviceable,  and 
how  to  keep  a  humble  position. 

Eric  complied  very  readily  with  the  re- 
quest, but  Sonnenkamp  had  immediately 
made  up  his  mind,  in  spite  of  Clodwig's 
warm  recommendation,  not  to  receive  this 
man  into  his  house. 

He  had  two  reasons.  The  stranger  had 
seen  him,  as  no  other  person  could  ever 
boast,  utterly  thrown  off  his  balance,  and 
must  therefore  be  removed  from  his  sight ; 
now  it  appeared  that  he  must  maintain 
a  respectful  demeanor,  which  was  rather 
irksome. 

He  would,  in  the  meanwhile,  show  to  one 
so  well-recommended  every  respectful  at- 
tention. He  took  pleasure  in  thinking  how 
he  would  test  the  man  in  all  points,  allow 
him  to  unfold  himself  in  the  consciousness 
of  a  certainty  of  being  employed,  and  then 
dismiss  him  without  assigning  any  reason 
for  doing  so. 

All  this  passed  through  Sonnenkamp's 
thoughts  while  he  was  turning  round  to  lock 
the  green-house  door.  The  thing  was  as 
surely  and  as  firmly  fixed  in  his  mind  as  the 
door  was  surely  and  firmly  locked. 

44  Do  you  speak  English?"  he  asked,  see- 
ing his  wife  still  sitting  in  the  rocking-chair : 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


41 


she  had  taken  off  the  red  shawl,  and  as  she  I 
sat  there,  her  satin  dress  had  a  rich  golden 
lustre. 

"  Captain,  Doctor,  I  beg  your  pardon, 
what  name  ?  "  said  Sonnenkamp,  in  intro- 
ducing him. 

"  Dournay." 

Frau  Ceres  gave  a  hardly  perceptible 
nod,  and, as  if  there  were  no  one  else  pres- 
ent, said  in  a  peevish  tone  to  her  husband, 
that  he  paid  no  attention  to  her,  and  had 
not  said  a  single  word  to  her  about  her  new 
dress.  Sonnenkamp  stood  wholly  at  a  loss 
to  know  what  was  the  meaning  of  this  un- 
expected sally  of  his  wife.  Did  she  think  it 
was  a  mark  of  high-breeding  to  show  the 
stranger  such  a  degree  of  indifference  ?  She 
was  not  diplomatic  enough  for  that.  He 
turned,  and  as  if  apologising,  remarked  to 
Eric  that  his  wife  loved  gay  colors. 

In  a  tone  of  strict  truth,  Eric  replied  that 
he  entirely  coincided  with  the  gracious  lady ; 
that  gay  colors  were  in  keeping  with  ex- 
ternal nature  ;  and  that  people  ought  to  be 
sunny  and  bright  like  the  flowers. 

Frau  Ceres  smiled  at  this  friendly  turn, 
and  Eric  continued  in  the  same  strain,  that 
it  was  a  lamentable  effect  of  the  style  of 
conversation  employed  in  society,  that  the 
expression  even  of  a  truth  should  be  re- 
garded as  mere  civility  and  flattery,  when- 
ever it  struck  pleasantly  upon  the  ear ;  that 
words  were  deprived  of  their  real  meaning, 
and  people  accustomed  themselves  to  ad- 
vance ideas  which  neither  the  speaker  nor 
the  hearer  actually  believed  ;  that  our  man- 
ner of  talking  in  society  was  like  a  card  of 
invitation  to  an  evening  party,  in  which 
eight  o'clock  was  specified  as  the  hour, 


I  when  half  past  nine  was  meant ;  and  he 
who  went  at  eight  only  brought  the  hosts 
into  a  dilemma. 

Frau  Ceres  looked  from  Eric  to  her  hus- 
band, and  from  her  husband  to  Eric,  and  as 
no  one  said  anything,  Eric  continued,  briefly 
pointing  out  how  colors  in  dress  harmonised 
with  the  natural  environment.  But  he  soon 
perceived  that  he  was  going  too  far  in  this 
exposition,  and  he  added  that  the  attire  of 
ladies  approached  nearer  to  the  ethereal 
bright  plumage  of  the  birds. 

His  mother  now  beckoned  to  Roland,  who 
appeared  in  the  distance.  He  pointed  to 
the  summit  of  the  tower.  The  mother 
looked  up  and  smiled ;  and  the  father  also 
smiled  when  he  saw  the  flag  of  the  Ameri- 
can Union  floating  from  its  top. 

"  Who  did  that?  "  asked  Sonnenkamp. 
"  I,"  Roland  answered,  with  a  joyous 
smile. 

"What  is  it  for?" 

The  boy's  visage  changed,  and  he  cast  a 
side-glance  toward  Eric. 

Sonnenkamp  screwed  his  under  lip  be- 
tween his  thumb  and  fore-finger  into  a  half- 
circle,  and  nodded  silently. 

Eric  had  noticed  the  boy's  glance,  and 
his  heart  beat  for  joy.    He  asked  the  boy, 

"  Are  you  very  proud  of  being  an  Amer- 
ican ?  " 
"Yes." 

Eric  was  introduced  to  Fräulein  Perini 
as  she  came  up  to  them ;  grasping  the 
mother-of-pearl  cross  with  her  left  hand, 
she  made  a  very  ceremonious  courtesy. 
Frau  Ceres  requested  her  to  go  with  her  to 
the  house.  Sonnenkamp,  Eric,  and  Roland 
remained  by  themselves. 


42 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  BUYER  EXAMINES  WHAT  IS  OFFERED. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Roland,1'  said  Eric. 
The  boy  gave  it,  looking  up  trustingly  and 
joyfully. 

"My  young  friend,"  Eric  added,  "I 
thank  you  for  that  testimony  of  respect 
waving  yonder ;  but  now  leave  us,  for 
your  lather  wishes  to  speak  with  me.11 

Father  and  son  looked  in  amazement  at 
the  man  who  was  giving  his  orders  in  such 
a  free  and  easy  manner.  The  boy  departed, 
Eric  nodding  to  him.  again. 

After  the  two  men  were  left  by  them- 
selves, for  a  while  no  word  was  spoken. 
Herr  Sonnenkamp,  who  always  carried  his 
cigars  loose  in  his  pocket,  offered  Eric  a 
large,  black,  broken  one,  which  he  accepted 
and  lighted  from  the  match  Sonnenkamp 
held  out  to  him,  without  taking  it  into  his 
own  hand. 

After  drawing  a  few  whiffs,  he  said,  — 
"You  will  certainly  agree  with  me,  that  it 
is  an  impolite  politeness  for  any  one  to  in- 
sist on  taking  the  lighted  match  into  his  own 
hand ;  between  this  giving  and  taking,  one 
generally  burns  his  fingers.1' 

However  insignificant  this  remark,  it 
served  for  a  beginning.  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  held  the  cigar- 
smoke  for  a  long  time  in  his  mouth,  and 
then  blew  it  out  in  perfect  rings,  which,  as 
they  floated  in  the  air,  grew  larger  and 
larger  until  they  vanished. 

"  You  have  great  influence  over  the  boy," 
he  said,  after  a  while. 

"  I  think  that  the  attraction  is  mutual, 
and  this  makes  me  hope  that  I  might  suc- 
ceed as  the  boy^  tutor.  Only  love  can  ed- 
ucate, as  love  only  can  create  and  form. 
An  artist  who  does  not  love  his  calling  can 
never  truly  create.  There  are,  indeed, 
many  who  love  a  child  because  they  give 
him  instruction  ;  but  I  can  instruct  only  one 
whom  I  love." 

"  Fine,  very  fine, — noble.  But  Roland 
needs  a  strict  hand." 

"Love  does  not  exclude  but  rather  in- 
cludes strictness ;  he  who  loves  requires 
perfection  in  himself,  as  well  as  in  the  object 
of  his  love,  and  makes  the  highest  demands.11 

Sonnenkamp  nodded  in  a  very  friendly, 
even  kindly  manner ;  but  there  was  a  sort 
of  sneer  upon  his  countenance,  as  looking 
/down  to  the  ground  and  placing  both  hands 
upon  his  knees,  he  said  :  — 

"We  will  speak  now  about  personal  mat- 
ters ;  for  things  of  that  sort  we  will  find  time 
by  and  by.    You  are  a  ?  " 


"Philologist  by  profession;  but  I  have 
devoted  myself,  by  preference,  to  practical 
education." 

"  I  know  that,  —  I  know  that,"  Sonnen- 
kamp said,  still  looking  down  as  he  spoke. 

"I  should  like  to  knoAv  something  about 
your  personal  history." 

He  did  not  look  up,  and  Eric  was  deeply 
pained  at  the  thought  of  being  obliged  again 
to  become  his  own  biographer.  He  felt  like 
a  man  who  speaks  to  a  sober  and  cool  lis- 
tener after  drinking  with  a  set  of  boon  com- 
panions. He  had  unfolded  himself  freely 
and  spontaneously  to  Clodwig,  the  day  be- 
fore ;  and  to-day  he  must  do  it  in  order  to 
recommend  himself  to  a  purchaser.  And 
so  it  is  !  The  seller  must  always  say  more, 
and  expatiate  more  upon  his  goods,  than 
the  buyer.  Wealth  was  a  tyrannical  power 
exhibiting  itself  under  an  entirely  new  form. 

Eric,  looking  at  the  back  of  the  man's 
head,  and  at  his  broad  neck,  —  for  not  a 
glance  was  vouchsafed  him,  —  very  soon 
lost  all  sensitiveness  as  to  his  position  of 
b#eing  a  seeker  after  employment.  He  was 
not  the  receiver,  but  the  giver.  A  tone  of 
self-respect  breathed  in  the  words  which  he 
now  uttered :  — 

"  I  .offer  you  my  free  labor." 

On  hearing  this,  Sonnenkamp  threw  up 
his  head  quickly  without  changing  his  posi- 
tion, cast  a  rapid  glance  upon  the  speaker, 
and  let  his  head  immediately  drop  again. 

"  I  mean,"  continued  Eric,  "  that  I  offer 
to  you  and  to  your  son  all  that  I  am,  and 
all  the  knowledge  and  science  that  I  have 
made  my  own  hitherto.  I  look  for  no  other 
reward  than  the  free  unfolding  of  my  own 
activity ;  and  I  have  the  feeling  of  freedom 
in  doing  this,  since  whatever  I  may  accom- 
plish I  accomplish  also  for  myself,  in  bring- 
ing that  actually  to  pass  which  I  have  striven 
after,  and  which  I  have  laid  down  as  a  theo- 
retical demand." 

"  I  know  what  free  labor  is,"  Sonnen- 
kamp said,  looking  towards  the  ground. 
Then  sitting  upright,  he  added  with  a  smil- 
ing countenance : — 

"You  are  not  dealing  with  a  man  of 
learning.  I  think  we  shall  come  sooner  to 
terms,  if  you  will  regard  me  as  a  common- 
sense  man  who  only  wants  to  know  the 
plain  matter-of-fact." 

"I  had  hoped,"  Eric  replied,  "that  the 
introduction  of  Count  von  Wolfsgarten  —  " 

"I  esteem  highly  the  Count  von  Wolfs- 
garten,  more  highly  than  I  do  any  one  else  ; 
but  —  " 

"You  are  right;  I  will  give  you  a  per- 
sonal explanation,"  Eric  interrupted 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


43 


Was  it  the  cigar,  or  was  it  the  painful 
position  in  which  he  felt  himself  placed, 
that  caused  the  sweat  to  start  out  upon 
Eric's  forehead  ?  At  any  rate,  he  laid  the 
cigar  down,  and  perceiving  with  a  sort  of 
surprise  that  he  was  wearing  his  uniform, 
began  to  explain  again  that  he  had  put  it 
on,  for  that  day,  because  Count  Wolfsgar- 
ten  had  advised  him  to  do  so. 

Sonnenkamp  again  sat  up  wholly  erect, 
feeling  himself  completely  fortified  against 
this  man,  who,  an  entire  stranger,  had 
taken  possession  of  his  house,  his  wife,  his 
son,  and  thought  even  to  domineer  over 
him,  and  make  him  a  stranger  in  his  own 
home.  He  would  let  the  applicant  talk  till 
he  was  tired. 

"  Go  on,  captain,"  he  exclaimed,  laying 
his  right  hand  with  the  fingers  crooked  up- 
on the  table,  and  then  drawing  it  back  again, 
as  if  he  had  deposited  a  stake  at  play. 

Eric  had  now  become  master  of  all  his 
powers,  and  in  a  tone  of  cheerful  good  hu- 
mor, began  in  a  wholly  different  style  :  — 

"Excuse  a  scholar  for  not  throwing  off 
his  scholastic  method.  In  the  old  poems, 
before  the  hero  enters  upon  his  career,  the 
parents  are  described ;  and  although  I 
am  no  hero,  and  what  I  have  to  unfold  is  no 
record  of  personal  prowess,  yet  allow  me 
to  give  a  preliminary  account  of  my  father 
and  mother." 

Eric  once  more  gave  a  brief  and  concise 
sketch  of  his  life.  Mindful  of  Clodwig's 
advice  not  to  say  anything  about  his  fancied 
mission  to  educate  convicts,  an  incident  oc- 
curred to  him,  which  he  had,  in  an  incom- 
prehensible way,  wholly  passed  over  before. 
He  gave  an  account  of  his  once  having  had 
charge  of  a  powder-mill.  "  I  was  driven 
away  by  a  revolting  expression  of  my  em- 
ployer. From  some  cause  never  yet  ex- 
plained, the  mill  blew  up,  and  four  men 
were  killed.  But  what  said  my  employer 
when  he  reached  the  spot  ?  Not  one  word 
of  pity  for  the  lost  men,  but  *  that  it  was  a 
shame  for  so  much  good  powder  to  be  lost.'  " 

"What  was  the  man's  name?"  asked 
Sonnenkamp. 

Eric  gave  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
names  of  the  principality,  and  was  not  a 
little  surprised  to  hear  Sonnenkamp  say, 
"  A  wonderful  man,  — influential  and  pow-  j 
erful." 

Eric  found  it  difficult  to  continue  his  nar- 
rative with  composure  after  this  incident, 
and  ended  by  saying,  — 

"  I  beg  that  you  will  not  regard  me  as  a 
weak,  restless  person,  for  having  so  often 
changed  my  calling." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  Sonnenkamp  de- 
clared, "  I  have  had  experience  enough 


both  in  the  old  and  new  world,  to  teach  me 
that  the  most  capable  people  are  just  those 
who  determine  for  themselves  upon  their 
employment.  Whoever  changes  his  calling 
must  do  so  either  from  some  external  ne- 
cessity, or  from  real  fitness  for  something 
else.  Allow  me  to  ask  one  question.  Do 
you  believe  it  possible  for  a  man  who  un- 
dertakes, compelled  by  want  or  because  he 
can  find  nothing  better  to  do,  some  employ- 
ment, I  do  not  like  to  call  it  a  service,  but 
a  dependent  position  —  you  know  what  I 
mean,  but  I  am  not  familiar  with  the  Ger- 
man—  is  it  possible  for  him  to  devote  him- 
self heartily  to  that  occupation  ?  Will  he 
not  always  feel  himself  bound,  under  obli- 
gation to  serve,  and  often  ill  at  ease  ?  " 

"  Your  frank  objection,"  Eric  replied, 
"  does  me  great  honor.  I  know  well  that 
the  calling  of  an  educator  requires  to  be 
made  supreme,  from  morning  until  night. 
Nothing  can  be  more  desirable  to  me  than 
to  perceive  that  you  are  as  deeply  interested 
in  the  matter  as  I  could  wish." 

Again  a  peculiar  expression  darted  across 
j  Sonnenkamp's  countenance  ;  but  Eric,  with- 
out appearing  to  perceive  it,  continued,  in  a 
voice  full  of  emotion,-  "It  is  not  because  I 
can  find  nothing  better  to  do  that  I  apply 
for  the  position  of  tutor  in  your  family.  I 
agree  with  you,  that  he  who  takes  such  a 
place  merely  from  necessity  can  never  fulfil 
its  duties,  although  I  do  not  mean  to  assert, 
and  unconditionally,  that  inclination  may  not 
be  developed,  or  as  we  say,  that  one  may 
not  maTce  a  virtue  out  of  necessity.  My 
knowledge  is  not  great,  but  I  have  learned 
what  one  must  do  in  order  to  learn,  and 
therefore  I  think  that  I  am  able  also  to  in- 
struct. As  far  as  earnest  sincerity  of  pur- 
pose is  concerned,  I  will  yield  to  no  one ; 
and  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  I  venture  to  say, 
that  were  I  placed  in  the  most  favorable 
circumstances,  I  would  enter  upon  the  call- 
ing of  an  educator  in  a  spirit  of  freedom, 
with  joyful  zeal." 

"Right  honorable,  right  honorable!  go 
on  !  "  Sonnenkamp  interposed  in  such  a  tone 
that  Eric  was  somewhat  confounded,  hearing 
as  he  yet  did,  in  a  measure,  the  echo  of  his 
own  earnest  utterance,  now  so  strangely  in- 
terrupted. In  a  sort  of  triumphant  tone, 
j  Sonnenkamp  continued  :  — 

"  An  amateur  is  all  very  well ;  but  I  pre- 
fer a  man  with  a  profession." 

"  I  am  entirely  of  the  same  opinion," 
Eric  answered;  "and  I  am  amazed  at  the 
good  results  practically  secured  in  the  new 
world,  by  adopting  a  different  course." 
With  constrained  calmness  he  continued, — 
"In  regard  to  this  matter,  I  have  only 
one  desire,  and  only  one  request  to  make." 


44 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


44  And  that  is?" 

Sonnenkamp  again  placed  his  hand  upon 
the  table  as  if  he  were  laying  down  a  stake 
at  play. 

44  I  should  like  that  you  would  not  find  it 

disagreeable  to  consider  me  at  first,  for 
some  days,  a  guest  in  your  house." 

Eric  said  nothing  more,  hoping  that  Son- 
nenkamp would  answer  at  once  in  the  af- 
firmative ;  but  he  cracked  in  two,  abruptly, 
a  cigar  which  he  had  just  lighted,  and  which 
did  not  seem  to  draw  freely,  and  threw  it 
away  into  the  shrubbery.  His  face  became 
red  again,  and  a  mocking  smile  played  upon 
his  lips,  as  he  thought:  "Very  confident 
indeed  !  This  young  man  imagines  that  if 
he  can  only  get  a  lodgment  for  a  few  days, 
he  can  so  bewitch  every  one  that  he  will  be 
deemed  indispensable.    We  shall  see !  " 

As  he  maintained  a  persistent  silence, 
Eric  said :  — 

"  It  would  be  desirable  as  well  for  you 
as  for  me,  before  making  a  permanent  agree- 
ment, to  know  more  of  each  other ;  and  I 
especially  desire  this  on  Roland's  account." 

Sonnenkamp  smiled,  and  watched  two 
butterflies  chasing  each  other,  hardly  giving 
any  attention  to  Eric  as  he  went  on  to 
state,  that  the  boy  seemed  to  him  in  one  re- 
spect too  mature,  and  in  another  not  ma- 
ture enough  to  be  made  acquainted  with 
the  selection  of  a  tutor,  and  perhaps  to 
have  a  voice  in  it ;  therefore  he  must  first 
know  him  as  a  guest  in  the  house,  and  after- 
wards as  his  tutor ;  also  it  was  his  own  de- 
sire that  Roland  should  not  know  that  his 
tutor  received  pay  in  money,  or  at  least, 
should  not  know  the  amount. 

At  the  word  money,  Sonnenkamp  seemed 
to  come  out  of  his  butterfly-gazing. 

44  What  sum  would  you  demand  ?  "  asked 
he,  putting  into  his  mouth  a  fresh  cigar  that 
he  had  held  for  some  time  in  his  hand.  Eric 
replied  that  it  was  not  for  him,  but  for  the 
father,  to  determine  that. 

Sonnenkamp  brought  his  cigar  to  a  glow 
with  a  few  violent  whiffs,  and  with  great 
unction  declared  how  well  he  knew  that  no 
sum  was  large  enough  to  compensate  ade- 
quately the  painstaking  duties  of  education 
and  instruction. 

Then  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  crossing 
his  legs,  and  holding  on  to  his  left  leg  with 
the  right  hand,  manifestly  well  satisfied  with 
this  declaration  of  his  noble  sentiments,  he 
said,  — 

44  Would  you  be  willing  to  give  me  an 
exposition  in  a  few  words  of  the  principles 
and  method  you  must  employ  in  the  train- 
ing of  my  son  ?  " 

44  The  method  to  be  marked  out  in  any 
particular  case,  the  course  I  should  adopt 


in  actual  instruction,  I  myself  do  not  as  yet 
know." 

44  What!  you  yourself  not  even  know 
that  ?  " 

44 1  must  take  my  method  from  Roland 
himself,  for  it  must  be  adapted  to  the  pu- 
pil's natural  characteristics.  Let  me  take 
an  illustration  from  your  own  surroundings. 
You  see  here  the  river.  The  boatmen  have 
sounded  the  bottom,  and  knowing  where 
the  shoal-banks  are,  keep  well  clear  of 
them.  So  must  I,  first  of  all,*  fathom,  in 
the  peculiar  sense  of  that  word,  the  depths 
of  Roland's  nature." 

Eric  looking  up  continued  :  — 

44  Or  let  me  take  a  yet  more  pertinent  il- 
lustration. If  you  see  that  your  servants, 
in  going  from  the  house  to  the  servants1 
quarters,  take  by  preference  a  short  cut 
over  a  grass-plot  artistically  measured  and 
laid  out,  you  will,  if  it  is  possible,  give  in 
to  this  beaten  track,  and  not  obstinately  ad- 
here to  your  artificial  plan,  however  correct 
it  may  be,  and  however  much  in  conformity 
with  the  principles  of  landscape-gardening. 
You  will  adopt  this  natural  foot-path  as  a 
part  of  your  plan.  This  is  the  method  ad- 
apted to  circumstances.  Such  thorough- 
fares are  found  also  in  human  beings." 

Sonnenkamp  smiled  ;  he  had,  in  fact, 
tried  very  hard,  by  means  of  stringent  pro- 
hibitions, to  keep  a  bed  of  shrubbery  in 
the  middle  of  the  court-yard  free  from  foot- 
passengers,  and  finally  had  laid  out  a  path- 
way through  it. 

44  Agreed  as  to  the  method,  but  how 
about  the  principles  ?  "  He  smiled  with  self- 
satisfaction,  for  he  perceived  how  nice  a  dis- 
tinction he  had  drawn.  The  man  had  made 
him  conscious  that,  in  an  intellectual  strug- 
gle, he  had  here  no  mean  antagonist. 

44  Here  I  must  take  a  wider  range,"  re- 
sumed Eric.  44  The  great  contest,  which 
runs  through  the  history  of  humanity  and 
the  whole  of  human  life,  shows  itself  in  the 
most  direct  way  in  the  training  of  one  hu- 
man being  by  another;  for  here  the  two 
elementary  forces  confront  each  other  as 
living  personalities.  I  may  briefly  desig- 
nate them  as  individuality  and  authority, 
or  historic  civilization  and  nature." 

44  I  understand  — I  understand,  go  on  !  " 
was  thrown  in  encouragingly  by  Sonnen- 
kamp, when  Eric  paused  for  a  moment,  anx- 
ious not  to  get  lost  in  generalities. 

44  The  educator  is  necessarily  the  repre- 
sentative of  authority,  and  the  pupil  is  a 
personality  by  the  very  endowment  of  na- 
ture," resumed  Eric.  4  4  There  is  continually 
then  a  balance  to  be  adjusted  between  the 
two,  a  treaty  of  peace  to  be  made  between 
the  contending  forces,  which  shall  at  last 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


45 


become  a  real  reconciliation.  To  train  one 
merely  as  an  individual  is  to  place  a  child 
of  humanity  outside  of  actual  existence, 
and  for  the  sake  of  freedom  to  isolate  him 
from  the  common  life,  and  make  it  burden- 
some to  him ;  to  subject  him  merely  to  pre- 
scribed laws  is  to  rob  him  of  his  inborn 
rights.  The  human  beim*  is  a  law  to  him- 
Belf,  but  he  is  also  born  into  a  system  of 
laws.  It  was  the  great  mistake  of  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau,  and  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, that  in  their  indignation  at  the  tradi- 
tions contradictory  to  reason,  they  thought 
that  an  individual  and  an  age  could  develop 
everything  from  themselves.  A  child  of 
humanity  neither  contains  all  within  himself, 
nor  can  he  receive  all  from  without.  I 
think  then  that  there  is  a  mingling  of  the 
two  elements,  and  there  must  be  an  hourly 
and  an  imperceptible  influence  exerted 
both  from  within  and  from  without  equally, 
inasmuch  as  man  is  a  product  of  nature  and 
a  product  of  history.  It  is  through  the  last, 
only,  that  man  is  distinguished  from  the 
beasts,  and  becomes  an  heir  of  all  the  labors 
and  all  the  strength  of  the  past  generations.'1 

Sonnenkamp  nodded  acquiescingly.  His 
whole  mien  said,  This  man  lays  down  very 
aptly  what  he  heard  yesterday  from  the  lec- 
turer's desk  ;  and  Eric  continued,  — 

"Man  alone  comes  into  an  inheritance, 
and  an  inheritance  is  the  heaviest  human  re- 
sponsibility." 

"  That  is  something  new  tome.  I  should 
like  to  ask  for  a  fuller  explanation." 

' '  Permit  me  to  illustrate  :  the  beast  receives 
from  nature,  from  birth,  nothing  except  its 
individual  strength  and  its  stationary  in- 
stinctive capacity,  while  the  human  being 
receives  from  his  progenitors  and  from  hu- 
manity a  superadded  strength  which  he  has 
not  in  himself,  but  of  which  he  becomes  pos- 
sessor, and  so  he  is  the  only  inheritor.  And 
let  me  say  further,  that  it  is  difficult  to  de- 
cide whether  it  is  harder  to  turn  to  good  ad- 
vantage that  which  a  man  is  in  himself,  or 
that  which  he  may  receive,  as  for  example 
your  son  will,  as  an  inheritance.  Most  per- 
sons are  of  account  only  through  what  they 
possess.  I  consider  this  last  of  no  trifling 
importance,  but  —  " 

"  Wealth  is  no  sin,  and  poverty  is  no  vir- 
tue," Sonnenkamp  interrupted.  "I  admit 
the  depth  and  fineness  of  your  perception 
in  all  this.  I  confess  it  in  new  to  me,  and  I 
think  that  you  have  taken  the  right  view. 
But  whether,  in  the  education  of  one  indi- 
vidual boy,  you  shall  find  occasion  for  such 
great  fundamental  principles  —  " 

"  While  engaged  in  the  work  of  instruc- 
tion," Eric  quietly  replied,  "  I  shall  not  be 
likely  to  have  directly  before  my  eyes  uni- 


versal principles,  as  everything  must  be  de- 
veloped from  its  own  basis.  While  one  is 
loading,  aiming,  and  firing  off  a  musket,  he 
does  not  define  to  himself  the  various  phy- 
sical laws  that  come  into  play,  but  he  must 
know  them  in  order  to  proceed  in  the  right 
way." 

Sonnenkamp  was  rather  tired  of  this  dis- 
cussion ;  it  was  somewhat  out  of  his  line, 
and  he  had  the  unpleasant  consciousness, 
that  while  trying  to  make  an  impression 
upon  the  stranger,  he  had  himself  been 
made  to  appear  infinitely  small. 

"Pardon,  gracious  sir,'' a  groom  inter- 
posed, as  Eric  was  beginning  to  expatiate 
anew.  Sonnenkamp  stood  up  hastily,  and 
remarking  that  it  was  time  for  his  ride, 
with  affable  condescension  he  waived 
with  his  hand  the  discussion  to  some  other 
time. 

He  went  quickly  away.  Roland  came 
along  the  path,  and"  called  out,  — 

"  I  may  ride  out  with  Herr  Dournay,  may 
I  not,  papa  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp  nodded,  and  departed  with 
a  hurried  step.  He  mounted  on  horseback, 
and  was  soon  to  be  seen  riding  a  spirited 
black  horse  along  the  white  high-road  by 
the  river.  He  made  an  imposing  appear- 
ance as  he  sat  on  horse-back ;  the  groom 
followed  him. 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  NEW  PATRON  AND  A  NEW  TUTOR. 

By  Roland's  direction  his  own  pony  had 
been  saddled,  and  also  a  horse  for  Eric. 
They  mounted,  and  rode  slowly  through  a 
part  of  the  village  which  joined  the  estate. 
At  the  very  end  of  it  stood  a  small  vine-cov- 
ered house,  with  all  the  window-shutters 
closed.  Eric  asked  who  owned  it,  and  why  it 
was  shut  up.  Roland  told  him  that  it  belonged 
to  his  father,  and  that  the  architect,  who 
built  the  villa,  had  lived  there,  and  some- 
times his  father  also,  when  he  came  from 
Switzerland  or  Italy  during  the  building  of 
the  house,  or  the  laying  out  of  the  park  and 
garden. 

"  Now  for  a  good  trot,"  said  Eric  ;  "  take 
vour  bridle  more  firmly  in  your  left  hand. 
Now ! " 

They  started  briskly,  keeping  side  by 
side,  but  suddenly  Eric's  horse  shied  and 
began  to  rear.  Roland  uttered  a  cry,  but 
Eric  reassured  him,  saying,  "  I'll  conquer 
him ;  "  he  drew  his  feet  from  the  stirrups, 
and  rode  off  at  such  a  pace  that  the  horse 
was  soon  covered  with  foam  and  quite  sub- 
missive ;  then  he  rode  back  to  Roland,  who 
was  waiting  for  him  in  anxiety. 


40 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Why  did  you  throw  off  the  stirrups  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Because  I  didn't  want  to  hang  by  them 
if  the  horse  fell  backwards.11 

They  rode  on  quietly  near  each  other. 
Eric  asked :  — 

"  Which  do  you  like  best,  to  have  some 
fixed  object  for  your  ride,  or  simply  to  go 
over  a  certain  distance,  and  then  turn 
back  ?  » 

Roland  looked  puzzled. 

"  Didn't  you  understand  my  question  ?  " 

"  Yes,  perfectly." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  I  like  to  have  some  object,  a  visit  to 
pay,  at  the  end  of  my  ride." 

"  I  thought  you  would  say  so." 

"  Only  think,"  said  Roland,  "  they  say  I 
must  have  another  tutor." 

"  Indeed." 

"  But  I  won't." 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  I  want  to  get  away  from  home  and  go 
to  a  military  school !  Why  should  Manna 
go  to  the  convent  ?  They  always  say  that 
my  mother  can't  eat  unless  I  am  wilrii  her, 
but  she'll  have  to  eat  when  I'm  an  officer." 

"  Then  you  want  to  be  an  officer?  " 

"  Yes,  what  else  should  I  be?  " 

Eric  was  silent. 

"  Are  you  a  nobleman  ?  "  asked  the  boy, 
after  a  muse. 
"  No." 

"  Shouldn't  you  like  to  become  one  ?  " 

"  We  cannot  make  ourselves  noblemen." 

The  boy  played  with  his  horse's  long 
mane ;  glancing  back,  he  saw  that  the  flag 
had  been  lowered  from  the  tower.  He 
pointed  it  out  to  Eric,  saying  haughtily  that 
he  should  hoist  it  again.  His  tine,  deli- 
cately cut,  bi>t  pale  face  gained  strength  and 
color  as  it  lost  itis  weary  look,  and  assumed 
a  daring  expression. 

Without  noticing  his  domineering  man- 
ner, Eric  said  how  much  he  liked  Roland's 
pride  in  being  an  American. 

"  You  are  the  first  person  in  Germany 
who  has  commended  it,"  cried  the  boy  joy- 
fully. "  Herr  von  Pranken  and  Fräulein 
Perini  are  always  ridiculing  America ;  you 
are  the  only  man,  — but  I  beg  your  pardon, 
I  ought  not  to  be  talking  so  familiarly  to 
you." 

"Put  away  that  notion;  we  want  to  be 
good  friends." 

The  boy  held  out  his  hand,  and  Eric 
pressed  it  warmly. 

"See,  our  horses  are  good  friends  too," 
said  Roland.  "  Have  you  many  horses  at 
home?" 

"No,  not  any;  I  am  poor." 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  rich  ?  " 


"  Certainly,  wealth  is  a  great  power." 

Roland  looked  at  him  in  surprise ;  none 
of  his  tutors  had  said  that  to  him ;  they  had 
all  represented  wealth  as  a  temptation  and 
a  vanity,  or  had  extolled  it  for  the  sake  of 
flattering  him. 

After  some  time,  in  which  the  boy  was 
evidently  thinking  about  Eric,  he  said, 
"  Are  you  French,  like  your  name  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  a  German,  but  my  ancestors 
were  French  emigrants.  How  old  were 
you  when  you  came  to  Europe?  " 

"  Four." 

"Have  you  any  recollection  of  America?" 

"  No,  but  Manna  has.  I  can  only  re- 
member a  song  which  a  negro  used  to  hum, 
but  I  can't  quite  recall  it,  and  nobody  can 
sing  it  to  me." 

As  they  rode  up  the  mountain,  the  little 
man,  whom  they  had  seen  at  work  in  the 
garden,  stood  aside  to -let  them  pass,  and 
greeted  them  respectfully.  They  drew  up, 
and  Roland  asked  Nicholas,  as  the  dwarf 
was  called,  why  he  was  going  home  so  early. 

The  little  man  replied  that  he  was  going 
home  now  at  noon,  and  then  into  the  wood 
to  get  some  of  the  new  earth  which  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  had  found.  Up  in  the  wood 
was  a  spring  which  contained  iron,  and 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  had  dug  down  and  found 
the  earth  also  impregnated  with  iron.  In 
this  earth  he  had  planted  hydrangeas,  and 
the  flesh-colored  flowers  had  changed  to 
sky-blue. 

The  little  man  could  not  express  all  his 
wonder  at  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  who  knew 
everything,  and  how  to  turn  everything  to 
account ;  it  was  no  wonder  that  he  had 
grown  so  rich,  while  stupid  men  might  go 
all  over  the  world,  where  millions  were  to 
be  had,  without  ever  knowing  it. 

But  the  little  man  took  especial  delight 
in  telling  them  of  a  simple  device  of  his 
master,  who  always  mixed  juniper  leaves 
with  the  earth  where  he  planted  seeds  of 
fruit-trees,  and  in  that  way  kept  away 
worms  and  mice. 

As  they  rode  on,  Eric  expressed  his  ad- 
miration for  a  man,  who,  like  a  second  Co- 
lumbus, was  still  making  new  discoveries 
in  a  world  which  seemed  already  explored 
and  parcelled  out.  His  readiness  to  appre- 
ciate, from  a  single  example,  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp's  greatness  in  this  direction  made  Ro- 
land draw  himself  up  in  his  stirrups,  struck 
with  surprise  as  he  thought  of  the  subject. 
He  had  never  before  heard  his  father  so 
praised. 

"Is  there  no  one  in  the  neighborhood 
whom  you  would  like  to  call  upon  ?  "  "  No 
—  or  —  yes,  the  major  —  but  he  is  now  at 
the  castle.    But  up  there  in  the  village  the 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


47 


huntsman  Claus  lives,  he  has  our  dogs  — 
—  will  you  go  with  me  to  see  him  ?  I  must 
let  him  know  how  Nora's  puppies  are ;  he 
was  with  me  an  hour  before  you  came." 

Eric  readily  assented,  and  they  trotted  up 
the  gentle  ascent,  turned  into  a  side  path, 
and  dismounted  before  a  small  cottage. 
Dogs  of  various  kinds  came  round  them  and 
jumped  upon  Roland  ;  Puck  also  seemed  to 
have  friends  ;  be  played  with  a  brown  badg- 
er-dog. An  old  man  came  out  of  the  house 
and  touched  his  cap  with  a  military  salute. 
He  wore  the  short,  light-gray  cotton  jacket 
which  is  the  easy  and  comfortable  every- 
day dress  of  the  country  people  along  the 
Rhine,  and  he  was  smoking  a  clay  pipe,  on 
which  a  sort  of  Ascension  of  Napoleon  was 
painted  in  glaring  colors. 

The  tone  and  manner  with  which  Roland 
presented  his  new  friend  to  the  huntsman, 
showed  that  he  knew  how  to  take  an  impe- 
rious tone  toward  his  inferiors. 

"  Off  with  your  cap,"  said  he  to  the  scream- 
er ;  "  only  think,  the  captain  knew  by  their 
whimper  how  old  and  of  what  breed  Nora's 
puppies  were,  before  he  had  seen  them." 

"  Yes,  one  can  do  that,"  replied  the 
screamer  in  a  very  loud  voice,  "  one  can  do 
that.  Dogs  have  their  own  peculiar  whine 
and  bark,  according  as  they  belong  to  a 
knowing  or  a  stupid  race ;  and  stupid  peo- 
ple, too,  cry  and  complain  quite  differently 
lrom  smart  ones." 

He  cast  a  pleased  glance  upon  Eric,  and 
held  his  pipe  in  his  hand  for  some  time. 

"You  are  right,"  said  Eric.  "  I  see  you 
have  had  much  experience  and  reflection." 

"  May  be  so,"  answered  the  huntsman. 

He  led  the  way  into  his  house,  and  when 
Eric  asked  what  saint  it  was  whose  picture 
hung  on  the  wall,  he  replied,  laughing, — 

"That  is  my  only  saint,  it  is  Saint 
Rochus  of  the  mountain  yonder,  and  I 
like  him  because  he  has  a  dog  with  him." 

There  were  many  bird-cages  in  the  room, 
and  such  a  twittering  and  confused  singing, 
that  one  could  hardly  hear  himself  speak. 
The  old  man  was  very  happy  in  explaining 
to  Eric  how  he  taught  birds  that  lived  on 
beetles  and  caterpillars  to  eat  seeds,  and 
how  he  got  maggots  and  weevils  also,  and 
he  complained  of  Roland's  want  of  interest  in 
the  feathered  tribe. 

"No,  I  dont  like  birds,"  the  boy  de- 
clared. 

"  And  I  know  why,"  said  Eric. 

"  Do  you  ?  why  then  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  pleasure  in  the  free-flying 
creatures  which  you  cannot  make  your  own, 
and  you  don't  like  them  imprisoned  either. 
You  like  dogs  beeause  they  are  free  and 
yet  cling  to  us." 


The  dog-trainer  nodded  to  Eric,  as  if  to 
say,  "  You've  struck  the  nail  on  the  head." 

"  Yes,  I  do  like  you  !  "  cried  Roland,  who 
had  two  young  spaniels  in  his  lap,  while  the 
mother  stood  by  and  rubbed  her  head 
against  his  side,  and  the  other  dogs  crowded 
round. 

"Envy  and  jealousy,"  said  Eric,  "are 
striking  characteristics  of  dogs.  As  soon 
as  a  man  caresses  one,  all  the  rest  want  to 
share  the  favor." 

"There's  one  that  doesn't  trouble  him- 
self about  it,"  said  the  trainer,  laughing. 

In  the  corner  lay  a  small  brown  dog,  that 
only  blinked  at  them  occasionally.  Eric 
remarked  that  it  must  be  a  fox-hound,  to 
judge  from  its  appearance. 

"Right,  he  understands  dogs!"  cried 
the  screamer,  turning  to  Roland.  "  You  are 
right !  I  got  that  fellow  out  of  a  fox-hole, 
and  he  is  and  always  will  be  an  unfaithful 
and  ungrateful  beast,  who  is  not  to  be 
trusted ;  do  what  you  will  for  him,  he  is 
never  thankful  nor  affectionate. " 

The  dog  in  the  corner  just  opened  his 
eyes  and  shut  them  again,  as  if  he  didn't 
disturb  himself  about  the  talk  of  men. 

Roland  showed  Eric  his  ferrets,  which 
seemed  to  know  him  as  he  took  them  out 
of  the  cage.  He  pointed  out  a  bright  yel- 
low one,  as  an  especially  cunning,  tough 
rascal ;  he  had  given  him  the  name  of 
Buchanan.  The  name  of  the  other  he 
would  not  tell ;  it  was  really  Knopf,  but 
now  he  only  said  that  he  called  him  Master 
of  Arts,  because  he  always  considered  so 
long  before  he  went  into  a  hole,  and  moved 
his  lips  as  if  he  were  delivering  a  lecture. 

They  went  into  the  garden,  and  the 
huntsman  showed  Eric  his  bee-hives.  Turning 
to  Roland,  he  said,  — 

"Yes,  Roland,  your  father's  flowers  are 
good  for  my  bees,  if  the  poor  little  crea- 
tures didn't  have  to  fly  so  far  down  to  reach 
your  garden.  I  let  my  cattle  feed  in  other 
men's  pastures,  and  the  world  hasn't  yet  got 
so  far  that  rich  men  can  forbid  poor  men's" 
bees  to  suck  honey  from  their  flowers." 

A  sharp  glance  shot  from  his  eyes  as  he 
said  this,  which  expressed  the  whole  rank- 
ling hostility  of  the  poor  towards  the  rich. 
The  keeper  complained  that  Sonnenkamp 
cherished  so  many  nightingales,  which  cer- 
tainly sang  beautifully,  but  robbed  the  bees 
of  their  honey,  and  even  ate  the  bees  with 
the  honey.  The  nightingale,  which  men 
prize  so  highly,  is  a  cruel  murderer  of  bees. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Eric,  "  the  nightingales 
do  not  know  that  the  bees  give  honey,  and 
we  cannot  blame  the  birds  for  considering 
them  as  plagues  for  whose  destruction  men 
will  be  grateful.    However,  they  do  not 


48 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


cat  them  altogether  for  our  sakes  but  their 
own." 

The  screamer  looked  first  at  Eric,  then  at 
Roland,  and  nodded  as  if  saying,  "  Yes, 
yes,  that's  quite  another  thing." 

Roland  now  asked  how  far  Griffin  had 
been  broken  in.  The  reply  was,  that  he 
would  now  run  at  the  man,  but  he  was  still 
too  wild,  and  his  leap  not  quite  regular, 
but  he  was  beginning  to  seize  hold.  Ro- 
land desired  to  see  him  do  it ;  but  the  day- 
laborer,  who  allowed  himself  to  be  experi- 
mented upon  in  that  way, was  not  at  home. 
Roland  said  that  the  dwarf  was  at  home, 
and  he  would  be  ready  to  do  it.  He  him- 
self went  after  the  dwarf. 

Alter  Roland  had  gone,  the  huntsman, 
Claus,  hastily  grasped  Eric's  hand,  saying, 
"  I  will  help  you  to  catch  him,  and  I  can 
give  the  fellow  slick  into  your  hand." 

Eric  gazed  in  utter  astonishment  at  the 
old  man,  who  proceeded  to  inform  him  that 
he  understood  very  well  what  he  had  come 
for,  and  whoever  knew  how  could  make 
out  of  Roland  a  proper  man.  He  signified 
by  a  very  sly  wink  that  Eric  would  some 
day  be  exceedingly  grateful  to  him,  if  he 
should  help  him  out. 

Before  Eric  could  make  any  reply,  Ro- 
land came  back  with  the  dwarf,  who  allowed 
a  pillow  to  be  fastened  over  his  shoulders, 
and  stationed  himself  at  the  garden-fence, 
holding  fast  by  the  palings  with  both  hands. 
A  large  Newfoundland  dog  was  let  out  of  a 
kennel,  and  sprang  about  awkwardly  in  all 
directions,  but  at  a  whistle  from  the  keeper 
stationed  himself  behind  him. 

The  keeper  now  called  out,  "Griffin! 
catch  him  !    At  him  !  " 

With  a  bound  the  dog  leaped  through  the 
garden  at  the  dwarf  standing  by  the  fence, 
jumped  upon  him,  bit  into  the  pillow,  tugged 
at  him  until  he  fell  over,  and  then  placed 
his  right  fore-foot  upon  his  breast,  looking 
back  at  his  master. 

"Bravo!  bravo!  You  see  he  is  a  real 
devil !  " 

"You  are  right!"  exclaimed  Roland. 
"Devil!  that's  just  the  name  —  Devil  he 
shall  be  called.  Now  they  will  be  afraid  of 
me  all  over  the  neighborhood." 

Eric  was  shocked  at  this  insolent  bravado 
as  well  as  at  the  off-hand  application  of  the 
idea.  He  appealed  to  the  trainer  whether 
a  dog's  name  ought  to  be  changed  who  had 
already  cut  all  his  teeth. 

"  Certainly  not,"  asserted  the  man  ;  "a 
dog  whose  name  is  changed  don't  know 
when  he  is  called." 

"And  besides,"  added  Eric,  "it  is 
wholly  wrong  to  give  a  dog  such  a  name. 
A  dog's  name  ought  to  have  an  a  in  it,  and 


have  only  one  syllable ;  the  letter  a  can  be 
called  aloud  very  easily." 

"  You  are  a  great  scholar  ;  I  never  heard 
of  the  like  before  ;  you  know  everything ;" 
the  screamer  went  on  in  high  commendation, 
winking  at  the  same  time  merrily,  and  with 
half-sidelong  glances. 

Devil  —  for  Roland  persisted  in  giving 
the  dog  this  name  —  would  not  come  away 
from  the  dwarf,  prostrate  on  the  ground, 
although  both  Roland  and  the  trainer  called 
to  him  repeatedly.  That  was  not  a  part  of 
his  lesson.  He  held  on  until  the  trainer 
showed  his  whip. 

Roland  gave  the  dwarf  a  piece  of  money, 
for  which  he  was  very  abjectly  grateful, 
and  only  wished  that  he  might  be  thrown 
down  in  that  way  three  times  every  day  by 
the  dog.  Eric  looked  on  meditatively. 
How  was  this  rich  youth  to  be  made  to 
learn  to  love,  labor  for,  and  influence  the 
world  which  so  laid  itself  at  his  feet  ? 

When  the  two  left  the  cottage,  the  trainer 
escorted  them  a  part  of  the  way,  followed 
by  a  whole  pack  of  dogs.  They  led  their 
horses  by  the  bridle,  and  the  trainer,  keep- 
ing exclusively  by  the  side  of  Eric,  made 
an  ostentatious  display  of  his  whole  stock 
of  wisdom  concerning  the  training  of  dogs. 
The  huntsman  considered  himself  infinitely 
clever,  and  all  learned  men  stupid. 

He  seemed  also  to  wish,  in  a  sly  way, 
to  instruct  Eric,  when  he  said  to  him  that 
as  soon  as  a  dog  can  stand  without  stum- 
bling over  his  own  legs,  a  beginning  could 
be  made.  And  it  was  an  all-important 
thing  not  to  say  much  to  a  dog,  but  to  use 
short,  simple  words .  such  as  "  go ! "  "  come  ! " 
"  here  !  "  but  never  any  long  speeches  ;  and 
one  must  not  make  much  of  him,  but  leave 
him  to  himself  for  whole  days ;  and  if  he 
wished  to  make  friends,  not  to  mind  it,  for 
if  one  gives  too  much  attention  to  a  dog  he 
becomes  troublesome ;  and  any  one  whom 
a  dog  is  to  respect  must  not  be  found  want- 
ing at  the  hunt,  especially  when  the  dog  is 
taken  out  for  the  first  time ;  if  one  has  shot 
any  game  that  the  dog  can  fetch,  he  will  be 
faithful  and  true,  but  if  one  misses,  he  ac- 
quires no  respect,  and  never  gains  over  the 
dog. 

1 '  Do  you  know  Herr  Knopf?  "  the  screamer 
asked  abruptly.  Eric  answered  in  the  neg- 
ative. 

"  Yes  ;  Herr  Knopf,"  said  the  screamer, 
"  has  told  me  a  hundred  times,  that  all  the 
school-masters  ought  to  be  under  my  tui- 
tion. Dogs  and  human  beings  are  just 
alike.  But  the  dogs  are  the  more  faithful 
beasts,  and  let  themselves  be  broken  in, 
and  bite  only  when  the  master  orders  them 
to." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


49 


Eric  looked  at  the  man  in  astonishment ; 
there  was  in  him  an  inexplicable  bitterness, 
and  this  man  was  the  boy's  friend.  He  re- 
turned to  their  former  topic,  and  the  screamer 
chuckled  when  he  said  that  beasts  acquire 
something  of  the  understanding  of  the  men 
they  are  with. 

The  huntsman  was  very  merry,  and  when 
they  were  about  to  separate,  on  reaching  the 
level  ground,  he  took  Roland  aside,  and 
said  to  him  :  — 

f*  Thou  blustering  fellow!  all  thy  ramrod 
priests  and  school-masters  have  been  of  no 
account.  That  would  be  the  man!  Thy 
father  ought  to  buy  such  a  man  as  that,  and 
then  something  might  be  made  of  thee. 
But  all  your  money  can't  get  him !  " 

The  screamer  said  this  ostensibly  to  Roland 
alone,  but  Eric  was  also  to  hear  it,  for  he 
must  know  that  he  ought  to  be  grateful  to 
him. 

Just  as  they  mounted,  the  huntsman  said 
further,  — 

**.  Do  you  know  that  your  father  is  buy- 
ing up  the  whole  mountain  ?  Cursed  ac- 
cumulation !  Your  father  is  buying  the 
whole  Pfaffen-street."  At  the  same  time, 
pointing  to  the  far  extending  wide-spread 
Rhineland,  he  said,  — 

"In  a  hundred  years,  not  one  hand- 
breadth  of  all  those  vineyards  will  belong 
to  those  who  rake  and  dig  there.  Must 
that  be  ?    Can  that  be  allowed  ?  " 

A  brisk  trot  carried  them  back  to  the 
villa ;  Eric  had  made  up  his  mind ;  at  the 
very  moment  when  Eric  had  said  to  him- 
self, "It  is  your  duty  not  to  abandon  the 
boy,"  he  saw  in  the  garden,  near  the  small 
vine-embowered  house,  a  female  form  which 
vanished  round  the  corner. 

Had  he  really  seen  his  mother,  or  had 
she  been  only  present  to  his  imagination  ? 

Quicker  than  one  can  compute,  the  idea 
was  formed  in  his  mind,  that  here  his 
mother  and  his  aunt  were  to  dwell;  this 
house  with  its  little  garden,  its  dwarf-trees, 
and  its  beautiful  prospect  was  made  ready 
for  her. 

"  Did  you  see  a  woman  there  in  the  gar- 
den ?  "  he  asked  Roland. 

"  Yes,  it  was  Fräulein  Milch. 
"  Who  is  Fräulein  Milch?" 
"  The  Major's  housekeeper." 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  BREAD  OF  SERVICE  AND   THE  BLESS- 
ING OF  THE  HUGUENOT. 

When  Eric  and  Roland  returned  from 
their  ride,  they  learned  that  Herr  von 
Pranken  had  arrived.  Eric's  portmanteau 
had  also  been  carried  to  his  room.  The 
valet,  Joseph,  introduced  himself  as  the 


son  of  the  Professor  of  Anatomy's  servant, 
and  he  mentioned,  with  perceptible  emo- 
tions of  gratitude,  that  Eric's  father  had 
given  him  a  French  Grammar,  out  of  which 
he  had  learned  by  heart  French  phrases, 
in  his  spare  moments  at  the  Academic  bil- 
liard-saloon, where  he  had  been  an  attend- 
ant. He  had  there  laid  the  foundation  of  his 
present  prosperity,  and  he  expressed  his 
satisfaction  at  being  able  to  thank  the  son 
of  his  benefactor. 

Joseph  helped  Eric  in  his  arrangements, 
and  gave  him  information  concerning  the 
habits  of  the  household ;  according  to  these, 
the  next  thing  to  be  done  was,  that  each 
one,  before  dinner,  which  was  regarded  as 
a  sort  of  festive  occasion,  should  repair  in 
full  dress  to  the  pleasure-ground  in  sum- 
mer, and  in  spring  to  Nice,  —  as  that  part  of 
the  covered  walk  on  the  terrace  was  called 
which  had  the  best  exposure  to  the  sun. 

Eric  laid  aside  his  uniform ;  he  entered 
the  covered  walk,  and  there  found  Pranken 
and  Fräulein  Perini  promenading  up  and 
down  together.  Pranken  approached  Eric 
with  a  bland  smile  that  flickered  upon  his 
face,  disappearing  as  quickly  as  it  came. 
In  the  consciousness  of  his  rank  and  his 
social  position,  he  could  afford  a  perfect 
courteousness  of  demeanor,  in  which  even 
a  certain  degree  of  geniality  might  be  ob- 
served. With  a  bow  he  again  took  a  posi- 
tion by  the  side  of  Fräulein  Perini,  and 
continued  his  previous  promenade  and  con- 
versation with  her. 

Eric  stood-  apart,  and  the  admonition 
that  he,  as  one  in  service,  must  not  be  sen- 
sitive, struggled  with  his  pride.  But  it 
might  be  regarded  as  very  considerate  in 
Pranken,  that  he  did  not  ask  how  it  fared 
with  his  application  for  the  position  of  tutor. 

Roland  now  entered  in  full  dress,  and 
the  boy  was  amazed  to  see  Eric  in  citizen's 
clothes.  Eric  asked  him,  "  Is  your  sister's 
name  Manna  ?  " 

"Yes;  Hermanna,  in  fact,  but  she  is 
always  called  Manna.  Have  you  ever 
heard  of  her  ?  " 

Eric  had  not  time  to  reply  that  he  had 
heard  that  name  frequently  mentioned  by 
Pranken  and  Fräulein  Perini,  for  Sonnen- 
kamp entered  in  a  black  dress-coat,  white 
neck-tie,  and  irreproachable  yellow  gloves. 
He  was  very  gracious  to  everybody,  one 
might  say  appetizing  in  his  manner,  as  if 
he  would  say,  "  I  hope  you  will  all  enjoy 
your  dinner."  Never  was  Sonnenkamp  in 
a  more  cheerful  mood,  never  more  buoy- 
ant, than  during  the  quarter  of  an  hour  be- 
fore dinner. 

They  went  into  the  dining-saloon,  a  cool, 
square,  vaulted  room,  lighted  from  the 
I  roof. 


50 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


The  carved  oak  furniture  here  was  very- 
massive.  A  large  side-board,  set  out  with 
beautiful  antique  vessels  and  Venetian 
glasses,  displayed  the  rich  silver  plate. 
The  whole  neighborhood  said  that  Herr 
Sonnenkainp  ate  out  of  golden  plates ;  but 
this  was  a  gossiping  story. 

They  waited  a  few  minutes  in  the  dining- 
room  until  the  folding-doors  opened,  when 
two  servants  in  the  coffee-colored  livery  of 
the  house  stood  like  guards,  one  on  each 
side,  and  Frau  Ceres,  like  a  princess, 
stepped  between  them.  At  the  threshold 
she  courtesied  somewhat  stiffly  ;  and  Prank- 
en,  coming  forward,  conducted  her  to  the 
table.  A  servant  was  stationed  near  each 
person,  and  drew  back  the  chair  whilst  he 
took  his  seat ;  Fräulein  Perini  stood  up  be- 
hind her  chair  and  leaned  her  arms  upon  the 
back,  held  the  mother-of-pearl  cross  in  her 
folded  hands,  said  a  prayer,  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross,  and  sat  down. 

Frau  Ceres,  during  the  dinner,  retained 
her  yellow  gloves,  scarcely  tasting  any  food, 
and  appearing  as  if  she  had  come  to  the  ta- 
ble merely  not  to  derange  the  order  of 
things.  She  declined  every  dish,  until  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  said :  — 

"  Do  take  something.,  dear  child,  do,  I 
pray  you." 

In  his  manner,  in  making  this  request, 
there  was  a  double  tone,  hard  to  be  dis- 
tinguished separately.  Sometimes  it  sounded 
like  the  call  and  signal  of  a  tamer  of  wild 
beasts,  who  allowed  some  subdued  animal 
to  take  tho  food  lying  before  him ;  but  again 
it  sounded  as  when  a  father,  fondly  and 
coaxingly,  beseeches  his  peevish  child  to 
eat  something  for  his  own  good.  Frau 
Ceres  ate  only  a  part  of  a  bird,  and  some 
sweetmeats. 

Pranken's  demeanour  at  table  was  that 
of  an  honored  guest,  to  whom  was  con- 
ceded the  duty  of  paying  particular  atten- 
tion to  the  hostess  and  conversing  with  her. 
He  gave  a  humorous  account  of  the  horse- 
market  at  Mannheim,  from  which  he  had 
returned  to-day  at  an  early  hour,  with  his 
companion ;  he  had  bought  for  the  fall- 
races  a  gray  mare,  which  he  would  be 
happy  to  transfer  to  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 
And  he  soon  took  care  to  gain  the  good 
will  of  Frau  Ceres.  She  had  a  special  aver- 
sion to  the  family  of  the  Wine-chevalier, 
who  were  very  reserved  towards  the  Son- 
nenkamp household.  He  proceeded  to  re- 
late some  ridiculous  swaggerings  of  the 
Wine-chevalier,  although  he  had  been  his 
own  chosen  companion. 

He  had  also  great  skill  in  imitating  the 
peculiar  manner  of  speaking  of  different 
persons,  and  in  introducing  facetious  an- 


ecdotes, which  produced  a  movement  of  the 
muscles  in  the  weary  face  of  Frau  Ceres, 
and  frequently  even  a  smile. 

The  conversation  was  carried  on  in  Ital- 
ian, which  Pranken  spoke  pretty  well,  but 
in  which  Eric  was  not  fluent.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  Eric  sat  at  a  table 
where  he  was  obliged  to  keep  as  silent  as 
the  servants  who  were  in  waiting. 

Frau  Ceres  considered  it  her  place  not 
to  leave  the  stranger  wholly  neglected,  and 
therefore  she  asked  him  in  English  if  his 
parents  were  still  living. 

Assuming  a  patronising  tone,  Pranken 
went  into  an  account  of  Eric's  father  and 
mother ;  he  did  it  with  marked  friendliness 
of  manner,  and  dwelt  with  special  empha- 
sis upon  the  fact  that  Eric's  mother  be- 
longed to  the  nobility. 

"Are  you  a  Frenchman,  as  your  name 
indicates  ?"  Fräulein  Perini  inquired. 

Eric  once  more  repeated  that  his  ances- 
tors had  immigrated  into  Germany  two 
hundred  years  before ;  that  he  felt  himself 
to  be  purely  a  German,  and  rejoiced  to  be 
descended  from  the  Huguenots. 

' '  Huguenots  ?  —  ah,  yes  !  they  sing  that," 
Frau  Ceres  said,  taking  a  childish  delight 
in  this  knowledge. 

Every  one  at  the  table  was  obliged  to  re- 
strain himself  from  laughing  aloud. 

"Why  was  the  name  Huguenots  given 
to  them  ?  "  asked  Roland,  and  Eric  replied, 

"  Some  people  think  that  the  name  orig- 
inated in  the  circumstance  of  their  holding 
their  secret  religious  assemblies  at  Tours, 
only  by  night,  when  the  ghost  of  King 
Hugo  appeared ;  but  I  am  of  the  opinion 
of  those  who  consider  it  a  German  word, 
originally  Eidgenosse,  meaning  associates, 
and  changed  by  the  French  into  Huguenot." 

Pranken  nodded  to  Eric  in  a  very  friendly 
manner,  as  if  he  would  give  him  a  testimo- 
nial of  his  excellent  qualifications  as  a  tutor. 

"You  take  pride,  then,  in  your  descent 
from  the  Huguenots  ?  "  asked  Sonnenkamp. 

4 '  Pride  is  not  precisely  the  word  I  should 
prefer,"  Eric  answered. 

"But  you  know  that  the  Puritans,  who 
were  exiled  to  the  New  World  on  account 
of  their  religious  belief,  were  the  parent- 
stock  ofthat  substantial,  conscientious,  and 
courageous  middle  class  ;  and  that  they  car- 
ried with  them  and  transplanted  into  their 
new  homes,  as  the  Greeks  of  old  times  into 
Sicily  and  Italy,  a  complete  civilization." 

The  manner  in  which  Eric  uttered  this, 
touching  upon  a  great  historical  series  of 
events,  suddenly  gave  to  the  conversation 
at  table  a  wholly  new  direction.  They 
were  at  once  taken  out  of  the  light,  brief 
witticisms,  and  piquant  personalities,  inio 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OK  THE  RHINE. 


51 


an  entirely  different  atmosphere.  Roland 
felt  this  to  some  extent,  looked  proudly  at 
Eric,  and  was  glad  that  his  voice  and  his 
thoughts  so  overmastered  all. 

Sonnenkamp  himself  recognised  here  the 
serene  presence  of  a  higher  nature,  which 
always  breathed  in  an  elevated  region ;  he 
could  not  help  feeling  a  certain  respect  for 
the  man,  and  at  last  put  the  question, 
"  How  do  you  associate  the  Pilgrim  Fathers 
in  America  with  the  Huguenots  ?  " 

u  Let  me  briefly  explain,11  answered  Eric. 
"  The  new  age  has  broken  through  the 
stringent  lines  of  demarcation  between  dif- 
ferent nationalities,  as,  for  example,  the 
Jews  have  become  actual  and  constituent 
parts  of  the  various  peoples  among  whom 
they  have  been  scattered.  A  haughty  and 
tyrannical  king  drove  the  Huguenots  out 
of  France,  and  they  became  Germans.  The 
emigrating  Englishmen  imprinted  their  cul- 
ture upon  America;  the  emigrating  Hu- 
guenots, established  among  a  people  al- 
ready civilized,  were  obliged  to  adopt  the 
social  cultus  of  their  new  fatherland.  Per- 
mit me,  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  to  take  you  as 
an  example." 

"  Me  ?  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"You  emigrated  to  America  as  a  Ger- 
man, and  the  German  emigrants  in  the 
New  World  become  assimilated  to  their 
adopted  home,  and  their  children  are  com- 
pletely American.1' 

Roland's  eye  glistened,  but  whether  it 
was  that  Pranken  felt  himself  cast  in  the 
shade  by  Eric,  or  that  he  endeavored  to 
embarrass  him  as  much  as  possible,  he  ex- 
claimed, with  an  odd  mingling  of  humor  and 
pity,  — 

"  It  is  very  modest  in  you  to  place  the 
Huguenots,  who  almost  all  belonged  to  the 
gentry,  in  the  same  category  with  the 
Jews.11 

"I  regard  it  as  a  matter  of  no  conse- 
quence,11 Eric  replied,  "whether  my  an- 
cestors belonged  to  the  gentry  or  not ;  they 
were  engaged  in  the  common  occupations 
of  business  and  trade,  and  my  immediate 
ancestors  were  goldsmiths.  The  resem- 
blance of  the  Jews  with  the  Huguenots, 
however,  I  must  maintain.  Every  commu- 
nity exiled  on  account  of  its  religion,  and 
scattered  abroad,  incurs  thereby  a  double 
obligation:  first,  to  keep  in  view,  over  and 
above  all  nationality,  the  oneness  of  hu- 
manity ;  and  second,  to  contend  against  all 
fanaticism  and  all  exclusiveness.  There  is 
uo  one  religion  in  which  alone  salvation  is 
to  be  found,  and  no  one  nationality  com- 
prising in  itself  all  excellence.11 

Pranken  and  Fräulein  Perini  looked  at 
each  other  in  astonishment.    Frau  Ceres 


was  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  what  all  this 
meant,  and  Sonnenkamp  shook  his  head 
over  this  sermon-like  style  of  his  guest,  who 
intermingled  his  world-wide  historical  views 
with  the  light  table-talk ;  and  yet  he  could 
not  get  rid  of  the  impression  that  there  was 
before  him  a  nature  that  had  its  permanent 
abode  in  the  region  of  pure  thought. 

"  You  must  unfold  that  to  me  yet  more 
definitely  at  some  other  time,11  he  said, 
seeking  to  divert  the  conversation. 

And  Roland  said  :  — 

"Louis  the  fourteenth,  who  exiled  your 
ancestors,  is  he  the  one  who  destroyed  the 
castles  here  on  the  Rhine  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

It  seemed  difficult  to  draw  the  conversa- 
tion away  from  a  subject  which  made  it 
drag  heavily,  but  it  was  suddenly  diverted, 
for  just  then  a  highly  seasoned  dish  was 
brought  in,  of  which  Roland  desired  to  eat. 
His  father  would  not  permit  it.  His 
mother,  perceiving  it,  cried  out  in  a  shrill 
voice,  "  Do  let  him  eat  what  he  likes." 

A  glance  from  Eric  met  Roland's  eye, 
and  the  boy  laid  down  the  morsel  that  he  was 
about  putting  into  his  mouth,  saying,  "  I 
would  rather  not  eat  it.11 

Sonnenkamp  made  a  sign  to  the  servant 
to  re-fill  Eric's  glass  with  Rauenthaler. 
This  appeared  to  be  his  way  of  expressing 
his  gratitude  for  the  glance  of  Eric. 

No  new  topics  for  light  conversation  came 
up.  Pranken  was  silent,  and  it  was  uncertain 
whether  he  had  exhausted  his  material,  or 
whether  he  wished  to  make  Eric  conscious 
by  this  reticence  how  pedantically,  and  at 
the  same  time  ostentatiously,  he  had  dis- 
turbed the  cordial  good  feeling  of  the 
table. 

The  cloth  was  removed.  Fräulein  Perini 
again  repeated'  a  prayer  in  a  low  tone,  all 
stood  motionless,  and  the  servants  having 
quickly  drawn  back  the  chairs,  they  re- 
paired to  the  veranda,  where  coffee  was 
served  in  very  small  cups. 

Frau  Ceres  gave  a  biscuit  to  a  snow- 
white  parrot,  and  the  parrot  called  out, 
"God  bless  you,  massa."  Then  she  sank 
down  into  an  easy-chair,  and  Pranken 
placed  himself  near  her  on  a  low  tabouret, 
sitting  almost  at  her  feet. 

Fräulein  Perini  selected  a  seat  suffi- 
ciently near,  if  she  wished  to  take  part  in 
the  conversation,  and  yet  far  enough  off  to 
allow  Pranken  to  speak  with  Frau  Ceres 
alone. 

Sonnenkamp  beckoned  to  Eric  to  go 
with  him  into  the  garden.  Roland  accom- 
panied them  without  being  asked. 

The  servant  came  to  inform  them  that  the 
huntsman  Claus  was  with  the  puppies,  and 


52 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


begged  that  the  young  gentleman  would 
come  to  him. 

**  I  give  you  permission  to  go,"  the  father 
said. 

"  But  I  would  prefer  to  remain  with  you 
here,"  Roland  replied. 

There  was  an  expression  of  childlike 


fondness  in  the  tone  and  gesture,  as  he 
grasped  Eric's  hand. 

"  If  your  father  says  that  you  may  go, 
you  should  go,"  Eric  quietly  answered. 

Roland  departed  with  lingering  steps, 
halting  at  intervals,  but  still  he  went. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


53 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AN    EXAMINATION     THAT    ENDS    WITH  A 
LAUGH. 

For  some  time,  the  two  walked  silently 
side  by  side.  Eric  was  dissatisfied  with 
himself;  he  lived  too  exclusively  in  himself, 
and  in  the  longing  to  arrange  everything 
according  to  his  own  mental  laws,  and  to 
express  each  truth  in  the  most  comprehen- 
sive way,  throwing  himself  into  it  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  with  perfect  free- 
dom and  naivete,  yet  not  unconscious  of  his 
intellectual  riches. 

Hence  the  hearers  felt  that  what  he  said 
was  not  only  inopportune,  but  was  presented 
with  a  sort  of  zealous  importunity.  Eric 
acknowledged  this  and  was  conscious  of  it 
immediately  afterward  ,when  he  had  divested 
himself  of  himself ;  yet  he  was  continually 
making  the  same  mistake,  which  caused 
him  to  appear  in  an  ambiguous  light,  and  as 
if  he  were  out  of  his  appropriate  place. 
Eric  had  a  sort  of  clairvoyant  perception 
how  all  this  was  affecting  Sonnenkamp,  but 
he  could  not  discern  the  peculiar  triumph 
that  it  afforded  him  over  the  visionary,  as 
he  smiled  to  himself  at  the  green  youth  who 
served  up  such  freshly-cooked  dishes  of 
sophomoric  learning.  He  knows  what  it  is, 
he  has  passed  through  it  all.  People  settle 
themselves  down  there  in  the  little  univer- 
sity-town, and  coming  in  contact  with  no 
one  else,  they  live  in  a  fantastic  world  of 
humanity,  and  appear  to  themselves  to  be 
personages  of  the  greatest  consequence, 
whom  an  ungrateful  lack  of  appreciation 
hinders  from  manifesting  their  efficiency  in 
actual  life.  And  this  captain-doctor  now 
before  him  had  only  a  small  company  of 
ideas  under  his  command. 

Sonnenkamp  whistled  to  himself,  — whis- 
tled so  low  that  nobody  but  himself  could 
hear  the  tune ;  he  even  knew  how  to  set  his 
lips  so  that  nobody  perceived  him  to  be 
whistling. 

He  placed  himself  in  a  chair  on  a  little 
eminence,  and  showed  Eric  also  a  seat. 

"  You  must  have  noticed,'1  he  said  at  last, 
"  that  Fräulein  Perini  is  a  very  strict  Cath- 
olic, and  all  our  household  belong  to  the 
Church  ;  may  I  ask,  then,  why  you  rang  the 
changes  so  loudly,  upon  your  Huguenot 
descent  ?  " 

"Because  I  wish  to  show  my  colors, 
and  nail  them  to  the  mast ;  for  no  one 
must  ever  take  me  for  what  I  am  not." 

Sonnenkamp  was  silent  for  some  time, 
and  then  he  said,  leaning  back  in  his 
seat,  — 


"I  am  master  in  this  house,  and  I  tell 
you  that  your  confession  shall  be  no  hind- 
rance. But  now  "  —  he  bent  himself  down, 
putting  both  hands  on  his  knees  and  looting 
straight  at  Eric  —  ' '  but  now  —  I  came  very 
near  falling  from  my  horse  to-day,  which 
has  never  happened  to  me  before,  because 
I  was  deeply  engaged,  while  riding,  in  re- 
flection upon  what  you  said  to  me  —  in 
brief  —  the  main  point  of  our  conversation. 
How  do  you  think  that  a  boy  who  is  to  en- 
gage in  no  business  and  who  is  to  come  into 
possession  of  a  million  —  or  rather  say,  of 
millions  —  how  do  you  think  that  such  a 
boy  is  to  be  educated  ?  " 

' '  I  can  give  a  precise  answer  to  that 
question." 

"  Can  you  ?    I  am  listening." 

"  The  answer  is  simple.  He  cannot  be 
educated  at  all." 

"What!  not  at  all?" 

"  That  is  what  I  affirm.  The  great  mys- 
terious Destiny  alone  can  educate  him. 
All  that  we  can  do  is,  to  work  with  him,  and 
to  help  him  rule  over  and  apply  whatever 
strength  he  has." 

"To  rule  over  and  to  apply,"  Sonnen- 
kamp murmured  to  himself;  "  that  sounds 
well,  and  I  must  say  that  you  confirm  an 
impression  which  has  often  before  this  been 
made  upon  me.  Only  a  soldier,  only  a 
man  who  has  developed  and  trained  his  own 
inborn  courageous  energies,  only  such  an 
one  can  accomplish  anything  great  in  our 
time ;  nothing  can  be  done  by  sermons  and 
books,  for  they  cannot  overcome  the  old, 
nor  create  the  new  age." 

In  a  changed,  almost  cringingly  humble 
tone,  Sonnenkamp  continued,  — 

"  It  may  appear  in  the  highest  degree 
strange,  that  I,  a  man  of  little  knowledge, 
who  have  not  had  time  in  the  active  busi- 
ness of  life  to  learn  anything  rightly,  — that  I 
should  seem  to  subject  you  to  examination  ; 
but  you  must  be  convinced  that  I  do  it  for 
my  own  instruction.  I  see,  already,  that  I 
have  even  more  to  learn  from  you  than 
Roland  has. 

"  I  pray  you  then  to  tell  me  what  training 
—  imagine  yourself  a  father  in  my  circum- 
stances —  what  training  you  would  give 
your  own  son." 

"  I  believe,"  Eric  answered,  "  that  fan- 
tasy can  call  up  all  sorts  of  pictures,_but  a 
relation  which  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of 
nature  can  only  be  known  through  experi- 
ence, and  cannot  be  apprehended  by  any 
stretch  of  the  imagination.  Permit  me  then 
to  answer  from  my  own  outside  point  of 
view." 

"  Very  well." 


54 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  My  father  was  the  educator  of  a  prince, 
and  I  think  his  task  was  the  easier  one." 

"  You  would  then  place  wealth  above 
sovereignty  ? 11 

"  Not  at  all;  but  in  a  prince  the  sense 
of  duty  is  very  early  awakened.  Not  only 
pride  but  duty  is  a  means,  every  moment, 
of  inducing  him  to  conduct  himself  as  a 
prince.  The  formal  assumption  of  state 
dignity,  in  which  those  in  the  highest  rank 
are  so  accomplished,  appears  from  a  very 
early  age  as  an  essential  feature  of  their 
position,  as  a  duty,  and  becomes  a  second 
nature.  Taste  becomes  connoisseurship. 
Pardon  my  scholastic  ways,"  Eric  laughingly 
said,  breaking  in  upon  his  exposition. 

"  Don't  stop  —  to  me  it  is  in  the  highest 
degree  interesting." 

Sonnenkamp  leaned  back  in  his  seat,  and 
gave  himself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  Eric's 
discourse,  as  if  it  were  some  choice  tid-bit : 
very  well  for  this  man  to  go  off  into  the  re- 
gions of  speculation,  who  in  the  meanwhile 
could  not  call  his  own  the  chair  on  which 
he  sat,  nor  the  spot  of  earth  on  which  he 
stood,  whilst  he,  Sonnenkamp,  could  proudly 
call  his  all  that  was  around  him,  .and  could 
obtain  possession,  if  he  wished,  of  all  that 
was  within  reach  of  his  sight,  and,  as  the 
keeper  said,  buy  up  the  whole  of  the  Rhine- 

"  Continue,"  he  said,  putting  a  fresh 
cigar  in  his  mouth. 

"  It  may  seem  laughable,"  resumed  Eric, 
"  but  it  is  certainly  significant  that  a  prince 
receives,  in  his  very  cradle,  a  military  rank. 
When  reason  awakens  in  him,  he  sees  his 
father  always  under  the  ordinance  of  duty. 
I  do  not  at  all  deny  that  this  duty  often  sits 
very  lightly  upon  him,  if  it  is  not  wholly 
neglected,  but  a  certain  appearance  of  duty 
must  always  be  preserved.  The  son  of  a 
rich  man,  on  the  other  hand,  does  not  see 
the  duty  which  wealth  imposes  placed  so 
peremptorily  before  his  eyes  ;  he  sees  bene- 
ficence, utility,  the  fostering  of  art,  hospi- 
tality, but  all  this  not  as  duty,  but  as  free 
personal  inclination." 

"  You  come  round  again  to  the  ob- 
ligation imposed  by  social  civilization.  I 
pray  you,  however, — you  have  a  decided 
talent  for  instruction,  I  see  that  plainly ; 
and  I  am  at  any  rate  thankful  to  Count 
Clodwig  and  to  you." 

"  A  point  for  comparison  occurs  to  me," 
Eric  began  anew. 

"Go  on,"  Sonnenkamp  said,  encourag- 
ingly* 

"  It  was  a  custom,  in  the  good  old  time, 
for  German  princes  to  learn  some  trade. 
Irrespective  of  all  else,  they  learned  how 
to  understand  and  to  esteem  labor.  The 


rich  youth  ought  to  have  something  like 
this,  without  its  being  suffered  to  degener- 
ate into  a  mere  hollow  ceremonial." 

"  Very  suggestive,"  Sonnenkamp  assert- 
ed. He  had  proposed  to  himself  only  to 
make  inquiries  of  Eric,  only  to  procure  a 
new  species  of  enjoyment  by  allowing  a 
learned  idealist  to  open  his  whole  budget ; 
he  had  taken  especial  satisfaction  in  the 
thought  that  Eric  would  do  this  for  his 
enjoyment,  and  would  reap  no  advantage 
from  it  himself;  he  also  experienced  a  cer- 
tain delight  in  being  able  for  once  to  jour- 
ney into  the  region  of  the  ideal  —  it  seemed 
a  very  pretty  thing  —  but  only  for  one  hour, 
for  one  half-day  ;  and  now  he  was  unexpec- 
tedly awakened  to  a  lively  interest.  He 
placed  his  hand  upon  Eric's  arm,  and 
said, — 

"  You  are  really  a  good  teacher." 

Eric  continued,  without  remarking  upon 
the  compliment,  — 

"  I  set  a  very  high  value  upon  sovereign- 
ty ;  it  is  a  great  influence,  and  confers  in- 
dependence and  self-possession." 

Yes,  that  is  true.  But  do  you  know 
what  is  the  most  desirable  thing,  which 
money  cannot  buy  ?  " 

Eric  shook  his  head,  and  Sonnenkamp 
continued,  — 

"  A  trust  in  God!  Look!  a  poor  vine- 
dresser was  buried  there  day  before  yes- 
terday. I  would  give  half  my  property  to 
purchase  of  him  for  the  remainder  of  my 
life  his  trus*  in  God.  I  could  not  believe 
what  the  physician  said,  but  it  was  only  the 
truth,  that  this  vine-dresser,  a  real  Lazarus 
covered  with  sores,  in  all  his  sufferings 
constantly  said,  '  My  Saviour  underwent  yet 
severer  pains,  and  God  knows  beforehand 
why  he  inflicts  this  upon  me.'  Now  tell 
me  if  such  a  faith  is  not  worth  more  than 
any  millions  of  money?  And  I  ask  you 
now,  do  you  feel  yourself  able  to  give  this 
to  my  son,  without  making  him  a  priestjid- 
den  slave,  or  a  canting  devotee  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  that  I  can.  But  there 
is  a  blessedness  to  be  obtained  from  the 
depths  of  thought." 

"  Is  there  ?  and  in  what  does  it  consist  ?  " 

"According  to  my  opinion,  in  the  bliss- 
ful consciousness  of  acting  according  to  the 
measure  of  our  strength,  and  in  harmony 
with  the  well-being  of  our  fellow-men." 

"  I  think  that  if  I,  when  a  boy,  had  had 
an  instructor  after  your  stamp,  it  would 
have  been  happy  for  me,"-  Sonnenkamp  ex- 
claimed, in  a  tone  entirely  different  from 
before. 

Eric  replied,  "Nothing  that  you  could 
say  to  me  would  give  me  more  confidence 
and  hopefulness  than  this  utterance." 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  KHINE. 


55 


A  quick  movement  of  the  hand,  as  if  he 
were  throwing  away  some  object,  indicated 
that  something  went  wrong  with  Sonnen- 
kamp. This  continued  conversation  wea- 
ried him,  for  he  was  not  used  to  it,  and  this 
sort  of  immediate  balancing  of  the  ledger 
wounded  his  pride.  Eric  never  remained 
in  his  debt,  and  he  himself  had  always  the 
feeling  that  there  was  something  for  him  to 

For  some  time  nothing  was  heard  but  the 
splashing  of  the  fountain,  and  the  gentle 
flowing  of  the  Rhine,  and  at  intervals  the 
note  of  the  nightingale  singing  unweariedly 
in  the  thicket. 

"  Did  you  ever  have  a  passion  for  play  ?  11 
Sonnenkamp  asked  unexpectedly. 

"No." 

"Were  you  ever  passionately  in  love? 
You  look  at  me  in  astonishment,  but  I  asked 
only  because  I  should  like  to  know  what 
has  made  you  so  mature. 11 

"Perhaps  a  careful  and  thorough  train- 
ing has  given  me  that  serious  thoughtful- 
ness  which  you  are  so  kind  as  to  call  matu- 
rity.'1 

"Well,  you  are  more  than  an  educator.11 

"  I  shall  be  glad  if  it  is  so,  for  I  think 
that  he  who  is  to  bring  anything  to  pass 
must  always  be  something  more  than  what 
his  immediate  activity  calls  for.1' 

Sonnenkamp  again  made  a  wry  face,  and 
once  more  jerked  his  hand  as  if  throwing 
something  away.  This  readiness  always  to 
return  the  blow,  and  this  assured  response, 
put  him  out  of  countenance. 

They  heard  Pranken  and  Fraulein  Perini 
walking  up  and  down  in  a  side-walk. 

"You  must  take  care  to  stand  in  good 
relations  with  Fraulein  Perini,11  Sonnen- 
kamp said,  as  he  rose  ;  "  for  she  is  also  — 
she  is  of  some  importance,  and  is  not  very 
easily  fathomed,  and  she  has  one  great  ad- 
vantage over  most  persons  I  know, —  she  has 
that  most  valuable  trait  of  never  indulging 
in  any  whims.11 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  cannot  boast 
of  any  such  trait,  and  I  ask  your  pardon  in 
advance  if  I  ever  — 11 

"It  is  not  necessary.  But  your  friend, 
Pranken,  understands  very  well  how  to  be 
on  good  terms  with  Fräulein  Perini.11 

Eric  considered  that  truth  demanded  of 
him  to  inform  Sonnenkamp  that  he  had  no 
right  to  call  Pranken  a  friend  of  his.  They 
were  in  the  military  school  together,  and 
acquainted  in  the  garrison,  but  their  ideas 
had  never  chimed  together,  and  his  own 
views  in  life  had  always  been  wholly  differ- 
ent from  those  of  a  rich  elder  son  ;  he  ac- 
knowledged the  kindness  with  which  Pran- 
ken had  facilitated  his  entrance  into  the  fam- 


ily of  Sonnenkamp,  but  the  truth  must  be 
spoken  in  spite  of  all  feelings  of  gratitude. 
Sonnenkamp  again  whistled  inaudibly ;  he 
was  evidently  amazed  at  this  courageous 
openness  of  mind,  and  the  thought  occurred 
to  him  that  Eric  was  a  subtle  diplomatist, 
he  himself  considering  it  the  chief  peculiar- 
ity of  diplomacy  not  to  make  any  confes- 
sion of  being  under  obligation  of  any  sort. 
This  man  must  be  either  the  noblest  of  en- 
thusiasts or  the  shrewdest  of  worldlings. 

Eric  felt  that  this  confession  was  untimely, 
but  he  could  not  anticipate  that  this  com- 
munication would  counteract  the  whole  im- 
pression previously  made  upon  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

On  meeting  Pranken  and  Fräulein  Perini, 
Sonnenkamp  greeted  the  Baron  in  a  very 
friendly  way,  and  took  his  arm. 

Eric  joined  Fräulein  Perini.  She  always 
carried  some  nice  hand-work ;  with  very 
small  instruments  and  with  a  fine  thread,  she 
completed  with  surprising  quickness  a  deli- 
cate piece  of  lace-work.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  Eric  had  spoken  with  her,  and 
he  expressed  his  great  admiration  for  her 
pretty,  delicate  work.  But  immediately 
it  was  fixed  as  firmly  as  if  there  had  been  a 
written  covenant  between  them,  — We  shall 
avoid  each  other  as  much  as  possible,  and 
if  we  a*re  placed  in  the  same  circle,  we  shall 
conduct  ourselves  just  as  if  there  were  no 
such  persons  in  the  world. 

In  contrast  with  the  clear,  full  tone  of 
Eric,  Fräulein  Perini  always  spoke  in  a 
somewhat  husky  voice ;  and  when  she  per- 
ceived that  Eric  was  surprised  at  hearing 
her,  she  said, — 

"  I  thank  you  for  not  asking  me  if  I  am 
not  hoarse.  You  cannot  imagine  how  tire- 
some it  is  to  be  obliged  to  reply,  again  and 
again,  that  I  have  always  spoken  so  from 
my  childhood.11 

Eric  gladly  entered  into  this  friendly 
mood,  and  related  how  troublesome  it  was 
to  a  friend  of  his,  born  on  the  28th  of  Feb- 
ruary, to  have  the  remark  always  made  to 
him,  It  is  fortunate  for  you  that  you  were 
not  born  on  the  29th,  for  then  you  would 
have  had  only  one  birth-day  every  four 
years.  "  He  has  now  accustomed  himself  to 
say  pleasantly,  *  I  was  born  on  the  28th  of 
February,  and  it  is  fortunate  for  me  that  I 
was  not  born  on  the  29th,  for  then  I  should 
have  had  only  one  birt]i-day  every  four 
years.1 11 

Fräulein  Perini  laughed  heartily,  and 
Eric  was  obliged  also  to  laugh. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at?11  Sonnen- 
kamp asked,  drawing  near.  Laughing  was 
the  thing  of  all  others  that  he  most  delighted 
in. 


56 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Fräulein  Perini  narrated  the  story  of 
Eric's  friend,  and  Sonnenkamp  laughed  too. 

The  day  continued  after  that  serene  and 
unruffled. 

CHAPTER  Vin. 
EYES  OPENED. 

While  Eric  was  in  the  garden  with  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  Roland  sat  with  Claus  near 
the  young  dogs.  The  huntsman  asked 
him  whether  all  was  settled  with  the  cap- 
tain, and  seeing  that  he  did  not  under- 
stand his  meaning,  he  laughed  to  himself 
as  he  thought  he  might  win  a  double  re- 
ward. 

"  What  will  you  give  me,1'  he  asked,  "  if 
I  manage  to  have  the  captain  stay  with  you 
as  a  companion  and  teacher  ?  Whew  ! " 
he  interrupted  himself  suddenly,  "you  look 
like  a  dog  whose  eyes  are  opened  for  the 
first  time.  Come,  tell  me  —  what  will  you 
give  me  ?  " 

Roland  could  not  answer;  everything 
was  giddy  and  confused  in  his  thoughts, 
and  the  young  dogs  seemed  to  be  whirling 
round  and  round. 

Joseph  came  into  the  stable,  and  after 
representing  Eric's  parents  as  veritable 
saints,  he  concluded, — 

"  You  ought  to  be  proud,  Master  Roland ; 
the  father  educated  the  prince,  and  now  the 
son  is  to  educate  you." 

"  Open  the  shutters,  quick !"  cried  Claus 
suddenly.  Joseph  did  so,  and  the  trainer 
took  up  one  of  the  puppies,  drew  up  its 
eyelids,  and  exclaimed,  "There,  that's 
enough  to  show  me  that  this  one's  eyes  are 
just  opening.  Now  don't  let  any  more 
light  in,  or  they  will  be  spoiled." 

In  his  interest  in  the  animals,  Claus  for- 
got his  shrewd  two-fold  plan  ;  he  went  with 
Roland  and  Joseph  into  the  court,  where 
Roland  immediately  left  them.  He  saw  his 
father  and  Eric  sitting  together,  and  felt 
angry  with  Eric  for  not  telling  him  directly 
who  he  was.  Soon  overcoming  this  feel- 
ing, however,  he  would  gladly  have  has- 
tened to  him  and  embraced  him,  but  he  re- 
strained himself,  and  only  approached  when 
he  heard  the  whole  party  laughing. 

He  pressed  close  to  Eric  confidingly,  and 
his  eyes  said,  "  I  thank  you;  I  know  who 
you  are." 

Eric  did  not  understand  his  glance,  until 
Roland  said,  — 

"  The  others  have  had  you  long  enough, 
now  come  with  me." 

He  accompanied  Eric  to  his  room,  and 
seemed  to  be.  waiting  to  talk  with  him,  but 
Eric  begged  to  be  left  alone ;  he  was  inex- 


pressibly weary,  and,  like  a  heavy  burden, 
there  lay  upon  his  spirit  the  consciousness 
that  he  who  enters  the  service  of  others 
cannot  live  his  own  life ;  especially  if  he  at- 
taches to  himself  a  faithful  soul  which  he 
is  to  mould,  sustain,  and  guide,  he  must 
never  be  weary,  never  say,  "Now  leave 
me  to  myself,"  but  must  be  always  ready, 
always  expectant,  always  at  the  beck  and 
call  of  others. 

Roland  was  much  troubled  at  Eric's  look 
of  fatigue  ;  he  could  not  suspect  that  he  was 
extremely  dissatisfied  with  himself.  It  was 
not  merely  the  weariness  after  imparting 
extensive  and  various  knowledge  which 
often  brings  a  sense  of  exhaustion,  it  was 
pure  chagrin  that  he  had  allowed  himself 
to  be  beguiled  into  drawing  a  plan  of  vast 
extent,  and  for  what  object  ?  The  educa- 
tion of  a  single  boy. 

Eric's  chief  vexation  was,  however,  that 
he  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  himself  still 
so  undisciplined ;  he  must  become  more 
self-restrained  before  he  could  give  stability 
and  right  training  to  another.  In  this  state 
of  discontent  he  hardly  heard  the  boy,  who 
talked  on  about  the  wonderful  opening  of 
the  dog's  eyes,  and  kept  asking  him  ques- 
tions, and  looking  inquiringly  in  his  face. 

A  servant  entered,  and  announced  that 
the  carriages  were  ready  for  a  drive. 

Eric  was  startled.  What  sort  of  a  life  was 
this  ?  To  promenade  in  the  garden,  ride, 
drive,  eat,  amuse  one's  self.  How  could  he 
guard  and  preserve  his  own  inner  life? 
How  would  it  be  possible  to  hold  a  young 
spirit  to  a  definite  course  of  constant  self- 
development  ? 

Eric's  pride  rose  ;  he  had  not  worked  all  his 
life  for  this,  —  exercised  himself  in  earnest 
and  strict  renunciation  for  the  sake  of  fill- 
ing the  intervals  between  driving  and  ban- 
queting. The  plan  would  be  unbearable ; 
he  would  have  an  arrangement  which  he 
could  control  and  to  which  he  could  give 
the  tone  of  his  own  mind. 

He  went  into  the  court  with  Roland,  and 
politely  asked  to  be  excused  from  the  drive, 
as  he  felt  the  necessity  of  being  alone  for  a 
few  hours. 

This  announcement  was  received  by 
glances  of  various  expression.  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp said  quickly,  that  he  laid  no  sort 
of  constraint  upon  his  guests  :  Pranken  and 
Fr&ulein  Perini  exchanged  looks  in  which 
there  seemed  to  be  a  malicious  pleasure  in 
the  harm  that  Eric  had  done  himself  by  the 
wilfulness  which  led  to  a  want  of  tact. 

Roland  said  at  once  that  he  would  like 
to  stay  at  home  with  Eric,  but  Pranken  re- 
joined in  an  exultant  tone  : 

4 '  Herr  Dournay  just  wishes  to  be  alone ; 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


57 


if  you  stay  with  him,  my  dear  Roland,  the 
gentleman  will  just  not  be  alone." 

He  uttered  the  word  "gentleman"  in  a 
peculiarly  disagreeable  tone. 

The  second  carriage  was  sent  away. 
Fräulein  Perini,  Pranken,  and  Roland  en- 
tered the  other;  Sonnenkamp  seated  him- 
self on  the  box ;  he  was  fond  of  managing 
four  horses  from  the  box-seat ;  four-in-hand 
was  a  great  delight  to  him.  This  driving 
four-in-hand  was  generally  taken  for  osten- 
tation, but  it  was  only  a  personal  gratifica- 
tion. 

.  Frau  Ceres  also  remained  behind ;  she 
had  already  exerted  herself  to  be  social 
quite  enough  for  that  day. 

Eric  watched  the  party  drive  off,  then  re- 
turned to  his  room. 

He  sat  there  alone  in  perfect  quiet,  more 
weary  than  it  would  have  seemed  possible 
to  become  in  so  short  a  time,  but  the  day 
had  been  one  of  excitement,  and  full  of  a 
violent  effort  to  make  himself  master  over 
novel  circumstances.  How  much  he  had 
been  through !  It  seemed  years  since  he 
looked  over  the  Roman  antiquities  with 
Clodwig.  During  the  day  he  had  been 
obliged  to  turn  over  and  over,  and  to  un- 
fold his  own  character  and  environment ; 
he  had  tasted  for  the  first  time  the  humble 
bread  of  servitude,  and  the  feeling,  half  of 
friendliness,  half  of  ingratitude,  the  enig- 
matic in  Sonnenkamp,  in  Roland,  in  Frau- 
lein Perini,  and  Frau  Ceres,  seemed  to  him 
like  the  dim  memory  of  a  dream,  like  a  far- 
off  life,  as  his  thoughts  went  home  to  his 
mother. 

A  profound  home-sickness  threatened  to 
overcome  him,  but  he  shook  it  off  reso- 
lutely. It  must  not  be !  His  military 
training  helped  him ;  his  orders  were  to 
stand  at  his  post,  keep  a  close  watch,  and 
never  to  tire. 

"Never  to  tire!"  he  said  half  aloud  to 
himself,  and  the  consciousness  of  youthful 
vigor  supported  him.  He  felt  that  on  the 
next  day  he  could  meet  the  problems  be- 
fore him  full  of  fresh  courage ;  and  one 
thought  above  all  others  strengthened  him, 
and  lightened  his  heart:  he  had  remained 
faithful  to  the  truth',  and  so  should  it  al- 
ways be.  Truth  is  that  firm*. standpoint 
of  mother-earth  where  the  wrestling  spirit 
is  not  to  be  conquered  and  thrown. 

In  the  distance,  from  the  railway  station 
across  the  river,  he  now  heard  an  idle  lo- 
comotive blowing  off  steam.  It  snorted, 
shrieked,  and  panted  like  a  fabulous  mon- 
ster ;  and  Eric  thought,  This  engine  has  all 
day  been  drawing  trains  of  cars  in  which 
hundreds  of  human  beings  had,  for  the 
time,  been  seated,  and  now  it  is  resting 


and  letting  off  its  hot  steam.  He  smiled 
as  he  thought  that  he  himself  was  almost 
such  a  locomotive,  and  was  now  cooling 
himself,  to  be  fired  up  anew  on  the  mor- 
row. 

Suddenly  he  was  waked  from  sleep ;  for 
he  had  slept  without  intending  to  do  so. 
A  servant  announced  that  Frau  Sonnen- 
kamp wished  to  speak  to  him. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  TWILIGHT  RIDDLE. 

The  sun  had  set,  but  a  golden  haze  en- 
veloped valley,  mountain  and  river,  when 
Eric  went  with  the  servant,  and  from  the 
corridor  looked  out  over  the  distant  pros- 
pect. He  was  conducted  through  several 
rooms.  In  the  last,  where  a  ground-glass 
hanging-lamp  was  lighted,  he  heard  the 
words,  "  I  thank  you, —  be  seated." 

He  saw  Frau  Ceres  reclining  on  a  divan, 
a  large  rocking-chair  standing  before  her. 
Eric  sat  down. 

"  I  have  remained  at  home  on  your  ac- 
count," Frau  Ceres  began ;  she  had  a  fee- 
ble, timid  voice,  and  it  was  evidently  dif- 
ficult for  her  to  speak. 

Eric  was  at  a  loss  what  to  reply. 

Suddenly  she  sat  upright,  and  asked,  — 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  my  daugh- 
ter?" 

"  No." 

"But  you've  been  to  the  convent  on  the 
island  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  had  a  greeting  to  deliver  from 
my  mother  to  the  Lady  Superior  —  nothing 
farther." 

"I  believe  you.  I  am  not  the  cause  of 
her  becoming  a  nun  —  no,  not  I — do  not 
think  it,"  and  reclining  again  on  the  pillow, 
Frau  Ceres  continued, — 

"  I  warn  you,  captain,  not  to  remain  here 
with  us.  I  have  been  informed  of  nothing 
—  he  has  let  me  be  informed  of  nothing  — 
but  do  not  stay  with  us,  if  you  can  find  any 
other  employment  in  the  world.  What  is 
your  purpose  in  coming  into  this  house  ?  " 

"  Because  I  thought  —  until  an  hour  ago 
I  believed  —  that  I  could  be  a  fitting  guide 
to  your  son." 

And  now  Eric  gave  utterance  to  his  in- 
most feeling  of  unfitness  for  being  another's 
guide,  and  yet  he  must  confess  that  no 
other  person  could  have  a  stronger  inclina- 
tion to  be,  only  some  other  might  perhaps 
take  it  more  easily.  He  unfolded  from  the 
very  depths  of  his  soul  the  newly  awakened 
longing  to  plunge  into  solitary  meditation, 
and  lamented  that  one  builds  up  an  ideal  of 
life  and  of  work  only  to  have  it  shattered 
in  pieces  upon  the  rock  of  actual  existence  ; 


58 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


but  it  was  only  unvanquished  self-seeking, 
for  which  his  own  thought,  and  not  the 
world,  was  to  blame. 

"I  am  not  learned  —  I  don't  understand 
you,1'  Frau  Ceres  replied.  "But  you 
speak  so  beautifully  —  you  have  such  good 
expressions  — I  should  like  always  to  hear 
you  speak,  even  if  I  do  not  understand 
what  you  are  saying.  But  you  will  not 
let  him  know  anything  about  my  having  sent 
for  you  ?  " 

"Him?  Whom?"  Eric  wished  to  ask,  but 
Frau  Ceres  raised  herself  up  hastily,  and 
said, — 

"  He  can  be  terrible  —  he  is  a  dangerous 
man  —  no  one  knows  it,  no  one  would  im- 
agine it.  He  is  a  dangerous  man !  Do 
you  like  me  too  ?  " 

Eric  trembled.    What  did  that  mean  ? 

"  Ah  !  I. do  not  know  what  I  am  saying,11 
continued  Frau  Ceres. 

"He  is  right  —  I  am  only  half-witted. 
Why  did  I  send  for  you  ?  Yes,  now  I  know. 
Xell  me  about  your  mother.  Is  she  really 
a  learned  and  noble  lady  ?  I  was  also  a 
noble  lady — yes,  I  was  one  indeed." 

A  fresh  shiver  passed  over  Eric.  Is  this 
half  lethargic,  half  raving  person  really  in- 
sane, and  kept  within  bounds  in  society 
only  by  the  greatest  care  ? 

He  had  wished  this  very  morning  to  write 
to  his  mother  that  he  had  come  into  fairy- 
land,—  the  fairy  land  was  yet  more  marvel- 
lous than  he  had  himself  fancied. 

Eric  depicted  with  extreme  precision, 
as  far  as  a  son  could,  the  character  of  his 
mother ;  how  she  was  always  so  very  happy, 
^because  she  was  contriving  how  to  make 
others  happy.  He  described  the  death  of 
his  father,  the  death  of  his  brother,  and  the 
greatness  of  soul  with  which  his  mother  en- 
dured all  this. 

Frau  Ceres  sobbed ;  then  she  said  sud- 
denly,— 

"  I  thank  you  —  I  thank  you  !  11 

She  extended  her  white  hand  to  Eric, 
and  kept  saying, — 

"I  thank  you!  With  all  his  money  he 
has  not  been  able  to  make  me  know  that  I 
could  weep  once  more.  O,  how  much  good 
it  does  me  !  Stay  with  us  —  stay  with  Ro- 
land. He  cannot  weep  —  say  nothing  to 
him  —  I  also  should  like  to  have  a  mother. 
Stay  with  us.  I  shall  never  forget  it  of  you 
—  I  thank  you  —  now  go  —  go  —  before  he 
returns  —  go  —  good-night !  " 

Eric  went  back  to  his  chamber.  What 
he  had  experienced  seemed  Ho  him  like  a 
dream  ;  the  hidden  element  of  mystery  which 
seemed  at  Wolfsgarten  to  envelop  the  fam- 
ily of  Sonnenkamp  was  more  and  more  evi- 


dent. Here  were  the  strangest  sorts  of  rid- 
dles. Roland,  full  of  life  and  spirits,  came 
to  him  ;  the  brief  separation  had  given  both 
a  new  and  joyful  pleasure  in  meeting  again ; 
it  was  as  great  as  if  they  had  been  sepa- 
rated for  years. 

Roland  asked(  Eric  to  tell  him  about  the 
Huguenots  ;  there  had  evidently  been  much 
talk  about  them  during  the  drive.  Eric 
put  him  off,  saying  that  it  was  not  neces- 
sary, at  least  not  now,  to  dwell  upon  the 
horrible  tortures  which  human  beings  in- 
flicted upon  one  another  on  account  of  their 
religious  belief. 

Roland  informed  Eric  that  Herr  von 
Pranken  was  going  the  next  day  to  visit 
Manna  at  the  convent. 

Eric  was  doubtful  what  he  ought  to  do. 
If  he  were  to  forbid  the  boy's  informing  him 
of  what  he  heard,  he  would  scare  away  his 
confidingness,  his  perfect  confidence ;  and 
yet  it  was  disagreeable  to  himself  to  be  in- 
formed of  things  which  might  not  be  in- 
tended for  him  to  hear.  He  proposed  to 
himself  for  the  future,  to  request  Sonnen- 
kamp to  say  nothing  in  the  hearing  of  the 
boy  which  he  ought  not  to  know.  Eric 
was  summoned  once  more  to  tea ;  Frau 
Ceres  did  not  make  her  appearance. 

Eric  was  this  evening  perplexed,  and  lost 
the  feeling  of  untroubled  security. 

Should  he  tell  Sonnenkamp  that  his  wife 
had  sent  for  him  ?  But  then  he  must  in- 
form him  of  what  she  had  revealed  to  him, 
ihough  it  was  only  half  uttered, —  it  was  a 
warning,  a  speech  wholly  disjointed  and  in- 
coherent. 

Eric  also  saw  Roland  looking  at  him  as 
if  beseeching.  The  boy  felt  that  some  pain- 
ful experience  was  going  on  in  his  new 
friend,  which  he  would  gladly  remove. 
And  to  ErnVs  affection  there  was  super- 
added the  feeling  of  pity.  Here  was  a 
manifestly  distressing  family  relation  under 
which  the  boy  must  have  suffered,  and  it 
was  a  fortunate  thing  that  his  light,  youth- 
ful spirits  were  untouched. 

Eric  was  reminded  continually  of  an  ex- 
perience of  his  in  the  house  of  correction. 
The  most  hardened  criminals  had  avowed 
always  with  the  most  triumphant  mien,  that 
it  conferred  the  greatest  satisfaction  to  them 
to  be  able  to  conceal  their  deeds  from  the 
world  ;  but  the  least  hardened  disclosed,  on 
the  other  hand,  how  glad  they  felt  to  be 
punished  ;  for  the  fear  of  discovery,  and  the 
constant  endeavour  to  conceal  the  crime, 
were  the  severest  punishment. 

Eric  had  now  a  secret ;  was  he  to  let  it  be 
possible  for  a  servant  to  betray  him,  and 
himself  appear  untrustworthy  ? 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


59 


When  Eric  was  about  to  go  to  rest,  Ro- 
land came  to  him  and  asked  whether  he  had 
anything  to  impart  to  him. 

Enc  replied  in  the  negative,  and  the  boy 
appeared  sad  when  he  said  good-night. 

CHAPTER  X. 
A  NEW  DAY  AND  DARK  QUESTIONS. 

The  morning  dew  glistened  on  grass, 
flower,  and  shrub,  and  the  birds  sang  mer- 
rily, as  Eric  walked  through  the  park. 
There  was  evidence  everywhere  of  an  or- 
dering, busy,  and  watchful  mind. 

Eric  heard,  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  two 
women  talking  with  each  other,  as  they 
carried  on  shore  the  garden-earth  out  of 
a  boat. 

"  God  be  praised,"  said  one,  "  who  has 
sent  the  man  to  us  ;  no  one  in  the  place  who 
is  willing  to  work  need  suffer  poverty  any 
more." 

"  Yes,"  spoke  the  other,  "  and  yet  there 
are  people  here  who  are  so  bad  as  to  say 
all  sorts  of  things  about  the  man." 

"  What  do  they  say  ?  " 

"  That  he  has  been  a  tailor." 

Eric  could  hardly  restrain  himself  from 
laughing  aloud.  But  a  third  woman,  with 
a  rather  thick  voice,  said,  — 

"A  tailor  indeed!  He  has  been  a  pi- 
rate, and  in  Africa  stole  a  gold-ship." 

"And  supposing  he  did,"  said  the  other, 
"  those  man-eaters  have  heaps  of  gold,  and 
are  heathens  beside,  and  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
does  nothing  but  good  with  his  gold." 

Eric  could  not  help  smiling  at  these 
strange  tales  and  implications ;  and  it  was 
also  painful  to  him  that  great  wealth  always 
stirred  up  new  and  calumnious  reports. 

He  went  on  farther.  He  saw  from  a 
height,  with  satisfaction,  how  the  main 
building  and  all  its  dependencies,  with  park 
and  garden,  were  combined  in  a  beautiful 
harmony.  Near  the  main  building  there 
were  only  trees  of  a  dark  foliage,  lindens, 
elms,  and  maples,  which  brought  out,  by 
contrast,  so  much  the  more  brightly  the 
brilliant  architecture  of  the  house  built  in  a 
good  Renaissance  style.  The  arbored  walks 
converged  gradually,  as  if  conducting  to 
the  solidly-built  mansion,  which  seemed  not 
to  be  built  upon  the  ground,  but  as  if  it 
had  sprung  up  from  the  soil  with  the  scenery 
that  surrounded  it ;  the  stone  colonnades, 
the  lawns,  the  trees,  the  elevations,  all 
were  an  introduction  to  the  house ;  all  was 
in  harmony.  The  verandas  appeared  to  be. 
only  bearers  of  the  climbing  plants,  and  the 
whole  was  a  masterpiece  of  rural  archi- 
tecture, a  work  of  natural  poetry  according 
to  the  laws  of  pure  art,  so  that  all  that  was 


man's  handiwork  seemed  as  fresh  as  if  it 
had  just  come  out  Of  the  builder's  hand,  and 
in  such  perfect  preservation,  that  one  .per- 
ceived that  each  tree,  each  leaf,  each  lat- 
tice, was  owned  and  carefully  cherished  by 
a  wealthy  man. 

Eric,  however,  was  not  to  be  long  alone  ; 
the  valet,  Joseph,  joined  him,  and  with  a 
pleasing  deference  offered  to  inform  Eric 
concerning  everything  in  the  household. 

As  Eric  was  silent,  Joseph  related  once 
more  that  he  had  been  a  billiard-boy  at  the 
University,  Henry  the  thirty-second,  for  all 
the  boys  must  be  called  Henry.  Then  he 
had  been  a  waiter  in  the  Berne  Hotel  at 
Berne,  where  Sonnenkamp  had  boarded  for 
almost  two  summers  long,  occupying  the 
whole  first  floor  —  the  best  rooms  in  the 
world,  as  Joseph  called  them  —  and  had 
learned  to  know  him,  and  taken  him  into 
his  service.  Joseph  gave  rather  a  humor- 
ous account  of  the  corps  of  servants  in  the 
household,  that  it  was  a  sort  of  menagerie 
gathered  from  all  countries.  As  in  a  poul- 
try yard  there  are  all  sorts  of  fowls,  and 
even  the  peacock  is  not  wanting,  which 
shrieks  so  horribly  and  looks  so  beautifully, 
so  it  was  with  the  people  here,  for  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  had  travelled  all  over  the 
world.  The  coachman  was  an  Englishman, 
the  first  groom  a  Pole,  the  cook  a  French- 
man, the  first  chamber-maid  a  thoreugh- 
going  Bohemian,  and  Fräulein  Perini  an 
Italian  Frenchwoman  of  Nice.  The  mas- 
ter was,  however,  very  strict ;  the  gardeners 
must  not  smoke  in  the  park,  nor  the  grooms 
whistle  in  the  stable,  for  all  the  horses  were 
accustomed  to  the  whistle  of  the  master, 
and  must  not  be  disturbed.  And  moreover, 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  would  rather  not  have 
his  servants  look  like  servants,  or  have 
any  peculiar  dress  of  servants,  and  it  was 
only  a  short  time  ago  that  he  had  given  in 
to  his  wife,  and  dressed  a  few  of  them  in 
livery.  The  servants  were  allowed  to  speak 
only  a  few  words,  and  there  were  particu- 
lar words  which  Herr  Sonnenkamp  used  to 
each  of  them,  and  which  each  used  in  an- 
swering, and  so  all  were  kept  in  good  order. 

Joseph  related  in  conclusion,  not  with- 
out self-satisfaction,  that  he  had  spread 
abroad  in  the  servants'  room  the  fame  of 
Eric's  parents ;  it  was  a  good  thing  for 
people  to  know  where  a  man  came  from, 
for  then  they  had  a  much  greater  respect. 
But  that  Madame  Perini  was  the  special 
mistress  in  the  household,  and  would  con- 
tinue to  be  ;  she  was  really  a  Fräulein  r  but 
the  gracious  Frau  called  her  always  Ma- 
dame. 

"  The  keeper  is  right,"  added  Joseph. 
• 4  Fräulein  Perini  is  a  woman  with  the 


GO 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


strength  of  seven  cats,  and  a  marten  into 
the  bargain." 

Eric  wished  to  hinder  this  revelation,  but 
Joseph  begged  him  to  allow  everything  to 
be  spoken  out,  and  to  pardon  him  as  being 
a  University  acquaintance.  He  only  added 
the  information  that  Pranken  was  to  marry 
the  daughter  of  the  house. 

"Ah!  that  is  a  beauty!  not  exactly  a 
beauty,  but  lovely  and  charming;  formerly 
she  Avas  so  .frolicsome,  no  horse  was  too 
wild  for  her,  no  storm  on  the  Rhine  too 
violent ;  she  hunted  like  a  poacher,  but  now 
she  is  only  sad  —  always  sad  —  vilely  sad." 

Eric  was  glad  when  the  gossiping  youth 
suddenly  drew  out  his  watch,  and  said  :  — 

"  In  one  minute  the  master  gets  up,  and 
then  I  must  be  near  him.  He  is  a  man 
always  up  to  time,"  he  added  as  he  went 
away. 

Like  confused  echoes  which  gradually 
mingle  into  one  sound,  Eric  thought  upon 
all  that  he  had  now  heard  about  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  house.  And  was  not  this  the 
girl  with  wings,  who  had  met  him  the  day 
before  yesterday  in  the  convent  ?  Invol- 
untarily standing  still,  and  staring  at  a 
hedge,  a  whole  life-picture  presented  itself 
to  his  mind.  Here  is  a  child  sent  to  the 
convent,  removed  from  all  the  world,  from 
all  intercourse  with  people ;  she  is  taken 
out  of  the  convent,  and  they  say  to  her : 
"  Thou  art  the  Baroness  Pranken  ! "  and  she 
is  happy  with  the  handsome  and  brilliant 
man,  and  all  the  dazzling  splendor  of  the 
world  is  showered  upon  her  through  him. 
It  seems  as  'if  he  had  called  it  all  into  be- 
ing, and  this  without  knowing  what  kind  of 
a  man  her  husband  is, — it  will  be  indeed 
a  good  thing  for  her  not  to1  know. 

He  shook  his  head.  What  was  the  little 
cloister-plant  to  him  ? 

Eric  saw  nothing  more  of  the  gorgeous 
beauty  of  the  garden ;  he  hastened  out  of 
it  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground, 
wandered  through  the  park,  and  just  as  he 
came  out  of  a  copse  of  trees  by  the  pond, 
Sonnenkamp  met  him.  He  had  a  foreign 
look  in  his  short  gray  plush-jacket  fastened 
with  cord,  and  was  especially  glad  to  find 
Eric  already  up,  proposing  to  himself  to 
show  him  the  house  and  grounds. 

He  directed  his  attention  first  to  a  large 
tuft  of  prairie-grass  ;  he  smiled  as  Eric  im- 
agined a  stampede  of  buffaloes,  and  he 
made  a  peculiar  motion  of  throwing,  in  des- 
cribing how  he  had  caught  many  a  one  with 
the  lasso. 

Then  he  led  Eric  to  an  elevation  set 
out  with  beautiful  plane-trees,  which  he 
pointed  out  as  the  very  crown  of  the  whole 
place.    He  prided  himself  very  much  upon  I 


these  fair  and  flourishing  trees,  adding  that 
in  such  a  tract  as  the  wine-district,  destitute 
of  shade,  a  thickly  shaded  place  was  a  thing 
to  be  taken  into  consideration  against  a  hot 
day  of  summer. 

"  You  will  perceive  that  I  have  gone  be- 
yond my  own  territory,  in  order  to  add  to 
its  beauty ;  above  there  upon  the  height  is 
a  group  of  trees,  which  I  have  kept  in  order 
and  thinned  out,  laying  out  paths,  and 
making  new  plantations,  in  order  to  get  a 
picturesque  view.  I  have  built  my  house 
not  to  please  the  eyes  of  others,  but  where 
I  could  have  the  best  prospect  from  it. 
The  peasant's  house  yonder  was  built  after 
a  plan  of  my  own,  and  I  was  very  properly 
obliged  to  contribute  a  part  of  the  cost. 
That  plantation  beyond  is  a  screen  to  hide 
the  glaring  stone-quarry ;  and  that  pretty 
church  spire  above  there  in  the  mountain- 
village, —  that  was  built  by  me.  I  was  very 
highly  praised  for  doing  it,  and  a  great  deal 
of  flattering,  pious  incense  was  burned  for 
me,  but  I  can  assure  you  that  my  sole  mo- 
tive in  doing  it  was  to  gain  a  fine  view.  I 
am  obliged  to  change  the  whole  character 
of  the  region  —  a  very  difficult  job  —  and 
here  comes  in  the  covetousness  of  people. 
Just  see,  a  basket-maker  builds  him  a 
house  yonder,  with  a  horribly  steep  roof 
covered  with  red  tiles,  that  is  a  perpetual 
eye-sore  to  me ;  and  I  cannot  reach  the 
fellow.  He  wishes  to  sell  the  house  to  me 
for  an  extravagant  price,  but  what  can  I 
do  with  it  ?  He  may  just  keep  it,  and  ac- 
commodate himself  to  my  arrangements." 

There  was  a  violent  energy  in  Sonnen- 
kamp's  manner  of  speaking,  reminding  Eric 
of  an  expression  of  Bella's,  that  the  man 
was  a  conqueror ;  such  an  one  has  always 
something  tyrannical  in  him,  and  desires  to 
arrange  and  dispose  everything  in  the 
world  according  to  his  own  individual  taste, 
or  his  own  personal  whims.  The  villages, 
the  churches,  the  mountains,  and  the  woods, 
were  to  him  only  points  in  the  landscape, 
and  they  must  all  come  into  one  favorite 
angle  of  vision. 

And  now  Herr  Sonnenkamp  conducted 
his  guest  through  the  park,  and  explained 
to  him  how  he  had  arranged  the  grounds, 
and  how  through  the  disposition  of  eleva- 
tions and  depressions  he  had  broken  up 
the  uniformity ;  but  that  in  many  cases  he 
had  only  to  bring  out  the  natural  advan- 
tages, and  give  them  their  right  effect :  he 
pointed  out  the  careful  disposition  of  light 
and  shadow,  and  how  he  oftentimes  set  out 
a  clump  of  trees,  a  little  group  of  the  same 
species,  which  he  mingled  together  not  in 
sharp  and  distinct  contrast,  but  in  regular 
gradation  of  colors,  such  as  we  see  in  nature. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


61 


Sonnenkamp  smiled  in  a  very  friendly 
way,  when  Eric,  in  order  to  show  that  he 
comprehended,  replied,  that  a  park  must 
appear  to  be  nature  brought  into  a  state 
of  cultivation ;  and  that  the  more  one 
knows  how  to  conceal  the  shaping  hand 
and  the  disposing  human  genius,  and  al- 
lows all  to  appear  as  a  spontaneous  growth, 
so  much  the  more  is  it  in  accordance  with 
the  pure  laws  of  art. 

A  little  brook,  which  came  down  from  the 
mountain  and  emptied  into  the  river,  was 
made  to  wind  about  with  such  skill,  that  it 
kept  disappearing  and  appearing  again  at 
unexpected  points,  saying  by  its  murmur, 
"Here  I  am." 

In  the  disposition  of  resting-places,  par- 
ticularly good,  judgment  was  exhibited. 
Under  a  solitary  weeping-ash  that  cast  a 
perfectly  circular  shadow,  a  pretty  seat 
was  placed  for  a  single  person,  and  it 
seemed  to  say  invitingly,  "Here  thou  canst 
be  alone  !  "  The  seat,  however,  was  turned 
over,  and  leaned  up  against  the  tree. 

"This  is  my  daughter's  favorite  spot," 
Sonnenkamp  said. 

"  And  have  you  turned  over  the  seat,  so 
that  no  one  may  occupy  it  before  your  child 
returns  ? " 

"No,"  Sonnenkamp  replied,  "that  is 
entirely  by  chance,  but  you  are  right,  so  it 
shall  be." 

The  two  went  on  farther,  but  Eric  hardly 
saw  the  beautiful,  comfortable  benches,  and 
hardly  listened  while  Sonnenkamp  declared 
to  him  that  he  did  not  place  these  on  the 
open  path,  but  behind  shrubbery,  so  that 
here  was  a  solitude  all  ready  made. 

A  table  was  placed  under  a  beautiful 
maple,  with  two  seats  opposite  one  another. 
Sonnenkamp  announced  that  this  place  was 
named  the  school ;  for  here  Roland  at  in- 
tervals received  instruction.  Eric  rejoined 
that  he  never  should  teach  sitting  in  the 
open  air ;  it  was  natural  to  give  instruction 
while  walking,  but  regular,  definite  teach- 
ing, which  demanded  concentration  of  the 
mind,  demanded  also  an  enclosed  space  in 
which  the  voice  would  not  be  utterly  lost. 

Sonnenkamp  had  now  a  good  opportu- 
nity to  tell  Eric  what  conclusion  he  had  ar- 
rived at  in  regard  to  the  matter  in  hand, 
but  he  was  silent.  As  an  artist  takes  de- 
light in  the  criticisms  of  an  intelligent  ob- 
server, who  unfolds  to  him  concealed 
beauties  which  he  was  hardly  aware  of  him- 
self, so  he  took  delight  in  perceiving  how 
understandingly,  and  with  how  much  grati- 
fication, Eric  took  note  of  the  various  im- 
provementss  and  of  the  grouping  of  trees 
and  shrubs. 

.  They  stood  a  long  time  before  a  group 


where  the  gloomy  cedar  was  placed  near 
the  hardy  fir,  and  the  gentle  morning 
breeze  whispered  in  the  foliage  of  the  sil- 
ver poplar,  and  caused  the  white  leaves  to 
glisten  like  little  rippling  waves  upon  the 
surface  of  a  lake. 

Near  a  little  pond  with  a  fountain  was  a 
bower  of  roses,  upon  a  gentle  elevation, 
patterned  according  to  a  dream  of  Frau 
Ceres ;  and  here  Sonnenkamp  remained 
stationary,  saying : 

"  That  was  at  the  time  when  I  was  still 
very  happy  here  in  our  settlement,  and 
when  everything  was  still  in  a  sound  and 
healthy  condition." 

Eric  stopped,  questionin  whether  he 
ought  to  tell  Herr  Sonnenkamp  of  yes- 
terday's strange  occurrence.  Sonnenkamp 
said,  accompanying  his  words  with  peculiar 
little  puffs,  as  if  he  were  lightly  and  care- 
fully blowing  a  fire,  — 

"  My  wife  often  has  strange  whims ;  but 
if  she  is  not  contradicted  she  soon  forgets 
them." 

He  appeared  suddenly  to  remember  that 
it  was  not  necessary  to  say  this,  and  added 
with  unusual  haste,  — 

"Now  come,  and  I  will  show  you  my 
special  vanity.  But  let  me  ask  you  one 
thing ;  does  it  not  seem  dreadful  to  you, 
who  are  a  philosopher,  that  we  must  leave 
all  this,  that  we  know  we  must  die ;  and 
while  everything  around  continues  to  grow 
green  and  bloom,  he  who  planted  and 
acquired  the  means  to  plant  is  here  no 
more,  but  moulders  in  the  dust?  " 

"  I  should  not  have  believed  that  you  in- 
dulged in  such  thoughts." 

"You  are  right  to  answer  so.  You 
must  not  ask  such  questions,  for  no  one 
knows  their  answer,"  said  Sonnenkamp 
sharply  and  bitterly  ;  "  but  one  thing  more. 
I  wish  Roland  to  understand  rightly  this 
creation  of  mine  and  to  carry  it  on,  for 
such  a  garden  is  not  like  a  piece  of  sculp- 
ture, or  any  finished  work  of  an  artist ;  it 
is  growing,  and  must  be  constantly  re- 
newed. And  why  should  there  not  be 
granted  us  the  certainty  of  transmitting  to 
our  posterity  what  we  have  conquered, 
created,  or  fashioned,  without  fear  that 
strangers  will  at  some  time  enter  into  pos- 
session and  let  all  go  to  waste  ?  " 

"You  believe,"  answered  Eric,  "that  I 
know  no  answer  to  the  first  of  your  ques- 
tions, and  I  must  confess,  that  I  do  not 
quite  understand  the  second." 

"Well,  well,  perhaps  we  will  talk  of  it 
again  —  perhaps  not,"  Sonnenkamp  broke 
off.  "  But  come  now  and  let  me  show  you 
my  special  pride." 


62 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
SÖNNENKAMP'S  PRIDE. 

They  stepped  immediately  out  of  the 
shady,  well -wooded  park,  whose  margin 
was  planted  with  noble  white-pines,  into  a 
wonderful  and  complicated  arrangement  of 
orchard-trees,  in  a  level  field  several  acres 
in  extent,  that  had  a  truly  magical  effect. 

The  plats  were  bordered  with  dwarf-apple 
and  pear-trees  that  looked  very  much  like 
small  yews ;  their  stems  were  hardly  two 
feet  in  height,  and  the  branches  on  each 
side  so  disposed  on  wires,  that  they  ex- 
tended to  the  width  of  thirty  feet.  These 
were  now  in  full  bloom  the  whole  length, 
and  the  arrangement  exhibited  man's  ener- 
getic and  shaping  volition,  where  nature 
was  compelled  to  become  a  free  work  of 
art,  and  even  warped  into  a  dwarfish  over- 
refinement.  Trees  of  all  imaginable  ge- 
ometrical forms  were  placed,  sometimes  in 
circles  and  sometimes  in  rows.  Here  was 
a  tree  that,  from  the  bottom  to  the  top 
which  shot  up  into  a  sharp  point,  had  only 
four  branches  at  an  even  distance  from 
each  other,  and  directed  to  the  four  car- 
dinal points.  On  the  walls,  trees  were 
trained  exactly  in  the  shape  of  a  candela- 
brum with  two  branches  ;  others  had  stems 
and  branches  adjusted  obliquely,  like  ba- 
saltic strata.  All  was  according  to  artistic 
rules,  and  also  in  the  most  thriving  condi- 
tion. 

Eric  listened  attentively  while  Sonnen- 
kamp was  informing  him  that  the  limbs  must 
be  cut  in,  so  that  the  sap  might  all  perfect 
the  fruit,  and  not  go  too  much  to  the  for- 
mation of  wood. 

"Perhaps  you  have  a  feeling  of  pity  for 
these  clipped  branches?"  Sonnenkamp 
asked  in  a  sharp  tone. 

"Not  at  all;  but  the  old,  natural  form 
of  the  fruit-trees  so  well  known  to  us  — " 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Sonnenkamp  broke  in, 
"  people  are  horrible  creatures  of  preju- 
dice !  Is  there  any  >one  who  sees  anything 
ugly,  anything  coercive,  in  pruning  the 
vine  three  times  every  season?  No  one. 
No  one  looks  for  beauty,  but  for  beautiful 
fruit,  from  the  vine ;  so  also  from  the  fruit- 
tree.  As  soon  as  they  began  to  bud  and  to 
graft,  the  way  was  indicated,  and  I  am  only 
following  it  consistently.  The  ornamental 
tree  is  to  be  ornamental,  and  the  fruit-tree 
a  fruit-tree,  each  after  its  kind.  This  ap- 
ple-tree must  have  its  limbs  just  so,  and 
have  just  so  many  of  them,  as  will  make  it 
bear  the  largest  apples  and  the  greatest 
possible  number.  I  want  from  a  fruit-tree 
not  wood,  but  fruit." 


"  But  nature  " 

•«  Nature  !  Nature  !  "  Sonnenkamp  ex- 
claimed, in  a  contemptuous  tone.  "  Nine- 
tenths  of  what  they  call  nature  is  nothing 
but  an  artificial  sham,  and  a  whimsical  con- 
ceit. The  spirit  of  nature  and  the  spirit  of 
the  age  are  a  pair  of  idols  which  you  phi- 
losophers have  manufactured  for  yourselves. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  nature,  and  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  an  age;  and  even  if 
there  were  both,  you  cannot  predicate  spirit 
of  either  of  them." 

Eric  was  deeply  struck  by  this  apparently 
combative  and  violently  aggressive  manner 
of  speaking ;  and  yet  more  so,  when  Son- 
nenkamp now  leaned  over  suddenly,  and 
said :  — 

"  The  real  man  to  educate  would  be  he 
who  was  able  to  train  men  as  these  trees 
are  trained  :  for  some  immediate  end,  with 
no  superfluous  trash  and  no  roundabout 
methods.  What  they  call  nature  is  a  fable. 
There  is  no  nature,  or  at  least  only  an  in- 
finitesimal particle.  With  us  human  be- 
ings everything  is  habit,  education,  tradi- 
tion.   There's  no  such  thing  as  nature." 

"  That  is  something  new  to  me,"  Eric 
said,  when  he  was  at  last  able  to  put  in  a 
word.  "The  gentlemen  of  tradition  call 
us  men  of  science  deniers  of  God,  but  a 
denier  of  nature  I  have  never  until  now 
become  acquainted  with,  and  never  have 
even  heard  him  mentioned.  You  are  jok- 
ing." 

"  Well,  yes,  I  am  joking,"  said  Sonnen- 
kamp, bitterly. 

And  Eric,  who  seemed  to  himself  to  be 
utterly  bewildered,  added  in  a  low  tone :  — 

"  Perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  those  who 
derive  the  laws  of  our  life  from  revelation 
deny  nature,  or  rather  they  do  not  deny 
her,  but  disregard  her." 

"I  am  not  a  learned  man,  and,  above  all, 
I  am  no  theologian,"  Sonnenkamp  abruptly 
broke  in.  "All  is  fate.  Damage  is  done 
by  worms  in  the  forest ;  there  stands  near 
us  an  oak-tree  clean  eaten  up  by  them,  and 
there  stands  another  all  untouched.  Why 
is  this?  No  one  knows.  And  look  here 
at  these  trees.  I  have  watched  what  they 
call  the  economy  of  nature,  and  here  a 
thousand  life-germs  perish  in  order  that  one 
may  thrive ;  and  it  is  just  the  same  in  hu- 
man life." 

"I  understand,"  Eric  said.  "All  the 
things  that  survive  have  an  aristocratic 
element  wholly  different  from  those  things 
that  perish  ;  the  blossom  that  unfolds  itself 
to  the  perfect  fruit  is  rich,  the  blighted  one 
is  poor.  Do  I  rightly  apprehend  your 
meaning  ?  " 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


63 


"In  part,"  Sonnenkamp  replied,  some- 
what weary.  "  I  would  only  say  to  you  that 
I  have  done  looking  for  the  man,  for  I 
despair  of  finding  him,  who  could  train  my 
son,  so  that  h«  would  be  fitted  in  the  most 
direct  way  for  his  position  in  life." 

For  some  time  the  two  walked  together 
through  the  marvellously-blooming  garden, 
where  the  bees  were  humming ;  and  Eric 
thought  that  these,  probably,  were  the  bees 
of  Claus,  the  huntsman. 

World  passing  strange,  in  which  all  is  so 
unaccountably  associated  together ! 

The  sky  was  blue,  and  the  blossoms  so 
deliciously  fragrant,  and  yet  Eric,  deeply 
troubled  in  spirit,  seemed  to  himself  to  be 
insnared  when  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  a  no- 
tice stuck  up  over  the  garden  wall,  which 
ran  thus :  — 

"Warning.  Spring-guns  and  steel- traps 
in  this  garden." 

He  looked  around  to  Sonnenkamp,  who 
said,  smiling,  — 

"  Your  look  asks  me  if  that  notice  yon- 
der is  true  ;  it  is  just  as  that  says.  People 
think  that  no  one  dares  to  do  that  now. 
Keep  always  in  the  path  near  me." 

Sonnenkamp  appeared  to  enjoy  Eric's 
perplexity  and  annoyance.  And  yet  it  was 
a  lie,  for  there  were  no  spring-guns  nor 
steel-traps  in  the  garden. 

On  this  part  of  the  wall,  stars,  circles, 
and  squares,  were  shaped  out  of  the  tree- 
twigs  ;  and  Sonnenkamp  laid  his  hand  upon 
the  shoulder  of  Eric,  as  the  latter  asserted 
that  number  and  geometric  form  were 
given  only  to  man.  Geometric  form,  in- 
deed, was  the  basis  of  all  manifestation, 
and  the  straight  line  was  never  actually 
seen,  but  must  be  wholly  the  product  of 
man's  conception.  This  was  also  the  char- 
acteristic mystery  in  the  doctrine  of  Py- 
thagoras. 

"I  have  thought  for  a  long  time,"  Son- 
nenkamp said  with  a  laugh,  "  that  I  was  a 
Pythagorean.  I  thank  you  for  nominating 
me,  as  one  of  the  sect.  We  must  christen 
our  new  art  of  gardening  the  Pythago- 
rean." 

This  outburst,  was  in  a  bantering  tone  of 
contempt  and  satisfaction. 

They  came  to  the  place  called  Nice,  by 
the  colonnade  constructed  in  the  Pompeian 
style,  which  extended  very  far  on  the  sec- 
ond terrace  of  the  orchard. 

**  Now  I  will  show  you  my  house,"  Son- 
nenkamp said,  pressing  against  a  little  door 
which  opened  upon  a  subterranean  passage, 
and  conducting  his  guest  into  the  habita- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  LOOK  INTO  THE  HOUSE  AND  INTO  THE 
HEART. 

Men-servants  and  maid-servants  in  the 
under-ground  rooms  were  amazed  to  see 
Sonnenkamp  and  Eric  make  their  entrance. 
Sonnenkamp,  without  noticing  them,  said 
to  Eric  in  English  :  — 

"  The  two  things  to  be  first  considered 
by  a  man  consulting  for  repose,  as  I  am, 
are  the  kitchen  and  the  stable." 

He  showed  him  the  kitchen.  There 
were  dozens  of  different  fire-places  for  the 
different  dishes^  and  each  kind  of  meat  and 
vegetables  ;  each  viand  had  its  special  dish 
and  pan,  tire  on  the  side  and  behind.  The 
whole  science  of  the  preparation  of  extracts 
was  here  transported  into  the  art  of  cook- 
ery. Eric  was  delighted  with  it  as  with  a 
work  of  art.  - 

Sonnenkamp  pointed  out  to  his  guest  for 
special  notice  the  fact  that  every  fire-place 
and  every  stove  in  the  house  had  its  own 
chimney ;  he  considered  that  as  of  great 
importance,  as  he  had  by  that  means  made 
himself  independent  of  the  direction  in 
which  the  wind  might  blow.  The  architect 
had  resisted  him  on  that  point,  and  he  had 
undergone  great  trouble  and  expense  to 
have  the  requisite  flues  constructed,  but  by 
this  means  new  beauties  had  been  devel- 
oped. 

Sonnenkamp  now  showed  him  the  greater 
part  of  the  house,  through  which  electro- 
magnetic bell-wires  ran  in  every  direction. 
The  stairs  were  richly  carpeted,  everywhere 
were  costly  candelabra,  and  in  the  cham- 
bers broad  double-beds. 

Everything  was  arranged  with  elegance 
and  taste,  a  truly  chaste  elegance  and  refined 
taste,  where  gold,  marble,  and  silk  contribu- 
ted to  the  artistic  decoration,  with  no  over- 
loading of  ornament,  and  with  a  preserva- 
tion of  the  appearance  of  home-like  com- 
fort. The  furniture  was  not  standing  about 
like  things  looking  for  some  fitting  place, 
but  every  piece  was  adapted  to  the  build- 
ing itself,  and  seemed  fixed,  and  at  home ; 
and  yet  the  arrangement  had  this  peculiar 
feature,  that  all  the  furniture  appeared 
waiting  for  the  inmates  to  come  and  occupy 
it,  and  not  placed  there  to  be  gazed  at  by 
them  in  passing  to  and  fro. 

The  heavy  silk  curtains,  hanging  in  thick 
folds,  were  matched  with  the  carpets ;  the 
large  clocks  in  all  the  saloons  were  ticking, 
and  the  delicate  works  of  art  on  the  man- 
tles and  brackets  were  tastefully  arranged. 
But  it  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that  this  ar- 


64 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


rangement  gave  no  physiognomical  indica- 
tion of  the  character  of  the  owner,  but  was 
only  the  tasteful  skill  which  every  good  up- 
holsterer supplies  to  order;  and,  above  all, 
one  felt  the  absence  of  anything  like  an 
heir-loom.  Eric  could  not  rid  himself  of 
the  impression  that  the  persons  here  lived 
in  their  own  house  as  if  it  were  a  hired 
one,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  Roland  was 
following  him,  and  that  he  must  enter 
into  the  soul  of  the  boy,  who  was  already 
aware  that  some  day  he  would  call  all  this 
his  own. 

Sonnenkamp  declared  that  he  thought  it 
contemptible  for  people  to  embellish  their 
houses  with  mediaeval  furniture, or  the  imi- 
tation of  that,  while  it  answered  the  pur- 
pose neither  of  ornament  nor  of  comfort. 
When  Eric  replied  to  him,  that  Goethe  had 
expressed  the  same  thing,  Sonnenkamp 
answered:  "That  is  very  pleasant  tome. 
I  think  that  Goethe  understood  life." 

He  uttered  this  in  a  very  condescending 
tone,  as  much  as  to  say,  that  any  one  must 
esteem  himself  fortunate  to  have  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp recognise  his  worth. 

On  the  north  side  of  the  house  in  the 
large  saloon,  covered  with  a  red  Persian 
carpet,  was  a  half-octagon  recess,  in  the 
middle  of  which  stood  a  handsome  mala- 
chite table  surrounded  by  fixed  chairs. 

Four  large  windows,  or  rather  four  sin- 
gle panes  of  glass  six  feet  in  height,  gave 
a  free  outlook ;  and  in  the  spaces  between 
the  windows  tablets  of  marble  were  insert- 
ed, half  way  up,  on  which  were  sculptured 
the  four  parts  of  the  "Day"  of  Rietschel. 
The  ceiling  was  ornamented  with  fine  stuc- 
co-work, from  which  a  silver  lamp  seemed 
to  fly  forth,  rather  than  to  hang  down,  for 
it  took  the  form  of  a  flying  Cupid  of 
bronze,  holding  a  torch  in  his  hand,  and 
this  torch,  as  Sonnenkamp  immediately  il- 
lustrated, could  be  lighted  as  a  gas- 
burner. 

44  Only  here,"  he  said  smiling,  44  do  I  have 
works  of  art,  insomuch  as  I  would  neither 
deceive  myself  nor  others  —  I  have  no 
taste  for  creative  art.  You,  as  the  son  of 
a  Professor  of  ^Esthetics,  perhaps  consider 
this  very  barbarous  ?  " 

"Not  at  all,  only  honest;  and  I  think 
you  are  so  far  entitled  to  do  as  you  think 
best." 

"  It  is  a  duty  for  every  one  to  be  honest, 
and  there  is  no  choice  in  the  matter." 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  have  expressed  myself 
badly.  I  mean,  that  even  the  realm  of  art 
is  not  free  from  rival  claims ;  and  he  who 
has  such  a  manifest  gift  for  landscape-gar- 
dening, ought  to  be  content  with  that,  and 


can  refrain  from  expressing  himself  in  any 
other  art." 

Sonnenkamp  smiled.  This  man,  he  thought, 
knows  always  how  to  come  down  on  his  feet. 

He  led  his  guest  into  the*  music-saloon. 
It  had  no  gilding  nor  satin,  only  a  centre- 
piece on  the  ceiling,  and  sea-green  hang- 
ings on  the  walls.  In  the  niches  made  by 
two  small  chimneys  were  brown,  stuffed 
damask  seats  and  sofas.  This  saloon 
seemed  to  be  continually  waiting  for  a  so- 
cial company,  either  moving  about,  or 
quietly  seated. 

Sonnenkamp  smiled  when  Eric  said  that 
he  was  pleased  to  see  the  music-saloon  so 
unadorned.  The  plain  white  had  a  sun- 
shiny appearance,  as  if  the  sun  lingered  on 
the  walls,  and  the  eye  was  not  attracted  to 
any  particular  object,  so  that  one  could 
listen  all  the  more  attentively,  only  one 
sense  being  called  into  activity. 

Sonnenkamp  was  yet  more  and  more  de- 
lighted ;  and  when  Eric  inquired,  4  4  Which 
one  of  your  family  is  musical  ? "  he  an- 
swered, — 

44  This  saloon  is  intended  for  my  daugh- 

44  Wonderful,"  said  Eric;  44  yonder  in 
the  garden  the  upturned  seat,  and  here  the 
music-saloon,  is  expecting  her." 

Sonnenkamp,  as  he  often  did,  took  his  un- 
der-lip between  his  fore-finger  and  thumb ; 
he  appeared  to  be  either  intending  to  say 
something,  or  wishing  to  keep  something 
back. 

4  4  As  we  are  talking  about  my  daughter, 
I  will  just  show  you  her  room,"  he  said 
suddenly,  opening  a  side-door. 

They  entered  a  little  apartment,  in  which 
the  Venetian  blinds  were  down.  Sonnen- 
kamp at  once  drew  them  entirely  up.  The 
prospect  extended  over  the  long  vine-arbor 
and  beyond  the  Rhine.  The  room  was 
plain,  but  all  was  extremely  pretty.  A 
number  of  photographs,  wreathed  with  blue 
ribbon  into  a  circle,  in  the  centre  of  which 
was  a  large  picture  of  the  pope,  hung  upon 
the  wall.  The  white  curtains  of  the  white 
bed,  now  drawn  back,  allowed  a  beauti- 
fully carved  ivory  crucifix  on  the  wall  to  be 
seen,  while  below  it  hung  a  neatly  framed 
colored  engraving,  a  sort  of  diploma,  ad- 
mitting Hermanna,  styled  Manna  Sonnen- 
kamp, into  the  band  of  good  children. 

A  writing-table,  a  small  book-shelf,  taste- 
ful chairs,  everything  showed  that  here  was 
the  abode  of  a  maiden  who  quietly  lived  ' 
within  herself,  occupied  chiefly  with  reli- 
gious meditations.  In  the  chamber  itself 
there  seemed  to  be  the  hovering  spirit  of 
prayer,  and  one  involuntarily  looked  round 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


65 


to  see  the  maiden  herself  come  in,with  those 
large  childlike  eyes  immediately  cast  down 
at  beholding  her  sanctuary  intruded  upon. 

Eric's  glance  became  fixed  upon  a  hand- 
some chimney-piece  of  green  marble,  whose 
semi-circular  edge  was  bordered  with  living 
ivy,  while  the  entire  chimney-place  was 
filled  with  flowers  and  growing  plants.  No 
flower-pots  were  to  be  seen,  for  they  were 
skilfully  concealed ;  it  was  all  a  mysterious 
growth  of  leaves  and  flowers. 

"Does  that  please  you?"  Sonnenkamp 
asked.  44  Yes,  my  daughter  always  has  the 
chimney-place  filled  with  flowers  in  sum- 
mer, and  I  think  that  Fräulein  Perini  has 
continued  the  practice  in  memory  of  her." 

Eric  continued  to  stare  at  the  plants ; 
and  he  fancied  that  he  could  read  some- 
thing of  the  character  of  the  maiden  who  in 
summer  kept  the  fire-place  covered  with 
flowers.  Here  Sonnenkamp  laid  a  heavy 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  said :  — 

44  Are  you  entirely  honest  ?  You  have 
not  come  here  on  my  son's  account,  but  on 
my  daughter's." 

do  not  comprehend,"  Eric  replied. 

' '  Were  you  not  at  the  convent  ?  Have 
you  not  seen  my  daughter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  both  ;  but  I  had  not  the  most  re- 
mote knowledge  of  you,  or  your  daughter, 
or  your  son." 

44  I  believe  it.  But  have  you  not  con- 
ceived the  idle  fancy,  that  by  taking  up 
your  abode  in  my  house,  you  may  perhaps 
win  the  affections  of  my  daughter  ?  " 

"I  thank  you  for  this  directness,"  Eric 
responded,  "  and  I  will  use  equal  direct- 
ness in  my  reply.  I  should  consider  it  the 
misfortune  of  my  life,  if  I  should  have  the 
feeling  of  love  towards  your  daughter." 

44  Towards  my  daughter  ?    Why  so  ?  " 

44  Because  I  should  esteem  it  a  misfor- 
tune to  love  a  maiden  of  such  great  wealth, 
without  taking  into  view  her  Catholic  opin- 
ions. I  would  never  marry  so  rich  a  girl, 
and  I  would  let  my  heart  break  before  I 
would  do  it.  I  now  beseech  you  —  it  is  not 
entirely  impossible  that  mistrust,  by  and 
by,  may  be  awakened  from  this  source  —  I 
beseech  you,  openly  and  directly,  not  to 
give  me  this  situation  in  your  family.  It  is 
better ;  I  have  been  this  short  time  your 
guest,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  great  kind- 
ness." 

44  Young  man,  you  remain.  I  believe 
you,  and  I  trust  you.  I  thank  you  for 
teaching  me  to  have  confidence  again  in  a 
human  being,  and  to  believe  in  a  human  be- 
ing. You  remain  !  Give  me  your  hand  — 
you  remain !  We  will  settle  all  quietly. 
Moreover,  my  daughter  is  —  and  I  give  you 
here  the  best  testimony  of  my  confidence  — 


my  daughter  is  as  good  as  betrothed  to  the 
Baron  von  Pranken.  Now  come  into  my 
own  work-room." 

They  entered  it.  Everything  here  was 
arranged  with  a  special  attention  to  con- 
venience. For  every  frame  of  mind,  and 
every  season  of  the  year,  for  solitude  and 
for  society,  chairs,  tables,  and  sofas  were 
disposed  everywhere  for  comfort,  as  much 
as  one  room  could  contain.  There  was  a 
vast  space,  and  yet  a  homelike  seclusion ; 
and  this  south  side  was  admirably  situated 
for  a  view  of  the  landscape.  Here  could  be 
seen,  outside,  the  smooth  beeches  and  plane- 
trees,  which  hid  from  view  the  bare-looking 
vineyards,  and  suffered  the  eye  to  rest 
upon  the  summits  of  the  wooded  heights ; 
and  directly  in  front  of  the  balcony  window 
there  was  a  full  view  of  the  ruins  of  the  cas- 
tle, which,  as  Eric  had  already  heard,  was 
being  rebuilt  by  the  order  of  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp, and  under  the  special  supervision  of 
the  major. 

A  single,  beautiful  painting  hung  here ; 
it  was  a  life-sized  portrait  of  Roland,  in  his 
seventh  year.  The  boy  sat  upon  an  over- 
turned antique  column,  his  hand  upon  the 
head  of  a  splendid  Newfoundland  dog,  and 
gazing  into  the  distance. 

A  large  arm-chest  stood  here  with  weap- 
ons of  all  sorts. 

While  Eric  was  looking  about,  Sonnen- 
kamp shoved  back  two  doors  which  were 
let  into  the  walls,  and  he  led  the  way  into 
what  he  called  his  library.  No  books  were 
to  be  seen,  nothing  but  great  boxes,  vessels 
of  porcelain  and  clay,  as  in  a  well-arranged 
apothecary's  shop ;  and  Sonnenkamp  ex- 
plained that  these  contained  seeds  from  all 
the  different  parts  of  the  earth. 

From  the  seed-room  a  special  stair-case 
led  into  the  garden,  and  this  stair-case  was 
entirely  grown  over  with  the  Chinese  honey- 
suckle, which  was  now  in  full  bloom  with 
its  clusters  of  blue  papilionaceous  flowers. 
Sonnenkamp  conducted  his  guest  back  into 
the  large  work-room,  and  there  said  that  it 
had,  formerly,  been  his  desire  that  Roland 
should  have  an  inclination  to  enter  upon  the 
active  life  which  he  himself  had  now  retired 
from.  He  spoke  of  trade.  Eric  was 
amazed  at  the  vast,  comprehensive  glance 
which  Sonnenkamp  took  of  the  business  of 
the  world :  for  him  there  was  no  isolated 
activity,  no  isolated  product ;  one  part  of 
the  world  subsisted  only  through  another ; 
and  the  whole  earth  was  for  him  one  great 
market-place,  where  iron,  wool,  tobacco, 
and  grain  received  his  attention  at  the  same 
time,  and  whether  in  Sweden,  Scotland,  the 
East  Indies,  or  Havana,  were  brought  to 
one  common  warehouse. 


CG 


TUE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Sonnenkamp  seemed  to  be  desirous,  to- 
day, to  compensate  Eric  for  his  unreserved 
communication,  and  Eric  was  astonished  at 
the  broad  and  strong  grasp  of  the  man's 
view,  so  that  all  his  schemes  were  well  cal- 
culated and  sure  of  success  ;  this  vast  power 
of  insight  was  visible  in  all  his  talk.  He 
had  seen  the  wide  world  with  that  kcen- 
sightedness  characteristic  of  the  English 
and  Americans,  who,  of  all  nations,  consume 
the  smallest  number  of  spectacles.  He 
seized  hold  of  the  main  features,  without 
burdening  himself  with  the  incidental,  and 
without  being  hindered  by  any  afterthought ; 
he  described  with  great  objectivity  what  he 
had  seen  in  foreign  lands,  as  well  as  what 
he  had  done  in  his  own. 

Sonnenkamp  was  well  aware  of  the  im- 
pression he  had  made  upon  Eric,  and  nod- 
ded, smiling,  when  the  latter  expressed  his 
opinion  how  grand  it  must  be  not  only  to 
possess,  but  also  to  acquire  and  to  be. 

"  Reflect  seriously  upon  this,11  Sonnen- 
kamp said,  —  "  what  would  you  make,  and 
what  am  I  to  make,  of  Roland  ?  You  have 
seen  so  much,11  he  added  with  a  look  of 
elation,  "  that  you  would  not  seek  to  change 
me  and  my  family,  if  you  should  undertake 
the  education  of  my  son." 

This  last  remark  dissipated,  to  a  certain 
extent,  the  deep  impression  which  Sonnen- 
kamp had  made  upon  Eric.  The  whole  ap- 
peared a  premeditated  affair. 

A  servant  came  to  inform  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp that  Herr  von  Pranken  wished  to 
take  leave  of  him. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
DEVIL  GETTING  WONTED. 

Pranken's  horse  stood  saddled  in  the 
court,  and  Pranken  himself  was  walking  up 
and  down,  snapping  his  riding-whip.  In 
exceedingly  good  spirits,  and  in  a  very 
amiable  mood,  he  hastened  to  meet  Son- 
nenkamp, saying  that  he  must  take  leave 
of  him.  There  was  a  tone  of  bantering 
politeness  in  their  manner  towards  each 
other.  When  Sonnenkamp  remarked  that 
Pranken  was  always  surprising  one,  never 
saying  that  he  was  going  aw*ay  until  the 
very  moment  of  starting,  Pranken  an- 
swered, with  mock  modesty,  that  he  was 
sure  that  he  must  in  that  way  meet  the  ap- 
proval of  his  friend  Sonnenkamp,  for  noth- 
ing was  more  disagreeable,  and  made  life 
more  insipid  and  dull,  than  a  constant  talk- 
ing over  and  discussion  and  cooking  up 
of  plans  ;  he  shot  the  hare,  and  left  it  to  be 
dressed  by  the  artists  of  the  kitchen. 

Pranken  said  all  that  with  his  usual  rat- 
tling manner,  as  he  twisted  the  end  of  his 


light  moustache.  He  took  a  cool  leave  of 
Eric,  saying  that  he  hoped  to  find  him  still 
there  on  his  return  from  a  short  journey. 

"Should  you,  however,  leave  before  I 
come  back,  have  the  kindness  to  present 
my  respects  to  the  gracious  — 11  he  paused 
a  moment,  then  added,  "to  the  Professors 
lady,  your  mother.11 

He  had  taken  off  his  glove  when  he  said 
good-bye  to  Sonnenkamp,  but  drew  it  on 
again  before  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Eric, 
and  it  was  evident  that  he  did  so  intention- 
ally. This  coldness  was  rather  agreeable 
to  Eric  ;  a  part  of  his  debt  of  gratitude  was 
removed  as  Pranken  treated  him  more  dis- 
tantly, and  they  could  perhaps  be  more 
harmonious  and  independent  when  they 
were  thrown  together. 

Pranken  called  Sonnenkamp  aside,  and 
said,' though  he  certainly  had  recommended 
the  young  scholar  —  haughtily  emphasizing 
this  expression  —  he  would  beg  him  not  to 
conclude  any  hasty  engagement  without 
making  a  strict  examination  himself. 

"  Herr  Baron,1'  replied  Sonnenkamp,  "  I 
am  a  merchant  — 11  he  made  a  watchful 
pause  before  continuing,  —  ' '  and  I  know 
what  recommendations  are,  and  how  often 
one  is  forced  to  give  them.  I  assure  you 
that  you  are  free  from  all  responsibility, 
and  as  to  the  examination  myself  —  I  am  a 
merchant,  Herr  Baron  — 11  again  the  wary 
pause, — "  the  young  man  is  the  seller,  and 
a  seller  always  has  to  lay  himself  open,  and 
to  show  what  he  is,  more  fully  than  the  buyer, 
especially  here,  where  the  seller  is  offering 
himself  for  sale.11  \ 

Pranken  smiled,  and  said  that  was  the 
deepest  diplomacy.  He  went  to  his 
horse,  vaulted  nimbly  into  the  saddle,  and 
set  off  at  a  gallop.  Sonnenkamp  called 
after  him  that  he  must  see  whether  the 
magnolia  in  the  convent  yard  was  thriving ; 
he  waved  his  hat  to  show  that  he  under- 
stood, and  rode  away  at  full  speed. 

"A  charming,  agreeable  young  man! 
always  bright  and  merry,11  Sonnenkamp 
said,  as  he  looked  after  Pranken ;  and  he 
went  on  to  remark,  at  some  length,  on  his 
constant  light-heartedness. 

Eric  was  silent.  There  seemed  to  pre- 
vail in  this  circle  into  which  he  was  intro- 
duced, a  perpetual  commenting  and  re- 
marking upon  others.  He  knew  Pranken, 
he  knew  this  everlasting  galloping  style  of 
utterance,  which  is  always  so  extremely  an- 
imated, and  even  becomes  enthusiastic 
when  the  conversation  can  be  turned  into 
an  emulous  contest  of  raillery.  But  this 
galloping  genius  had  a  deep  foundation  of 
insincerity,  for  it  was  not  possible  to  be 
strained  up  every  moment  to  this  pitch ;  it 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


67 


could  only  be  the  result  of  violent  tension, 
which  must  perpetually  make  a  show  of  en- 
ergy, and  in  this  constant  effort  the  soul 
must,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  put  on 
a  false  appearance. 

Eric  quietly  listened  to  his  remaining 
statements,  and  only  when  Sonnenkamp 
asked  him  whether  he  did  not  think  that 
the  man,  who  had  from  his  youth  been  con- 
scious of  a  superior  rank,  could  alone  attain 
to  this  regal  and  sportive  mastery  over  life, 
only  then  did  he  answer,  that  no  fair  prov- 
ince of  life  was  shut  out  from  the  middle 
class. 

Sonnenkamp  nodded  very  acquiescingly. 
His  saddle-horse  was  now  brought  to  him, 
and  he.  immediately  mounted  and  rode  off. 

Eric  went  in  search  of  Roland,  and  found 
him  with  his  dogs.  The  boy  desired  that 
Eric  should  at  once  select  one  of  them  for 
himself.  "  And  only  think,"  he  added,  "  a 
day-laborer  just  informs  me  that  the  dwarf 
has  received  a  bite  from  Devil.  Served  the 
stupid  fellow  exactly  right,  for  trying  to  do 
what  he  wasn't  fit  to  do." 

Eric  was  shocked.  Was  it  possible  that 
a  young  heart  could  already  be  so  stony  ? 
He  laid  down  to  Roland  at  length  how  in- 
human it  was  to  regard  a  human  being  as  a 
mere  puppet,  and  to  have  no  further  con- 
cern about  him,  after  one  has  had  his  sport 
out  of  him.  His  whole  heart  was  moved 
with  feeling  as  he  spoke.  Roland  disdain- 
fully threw  back  his  head. 

"Why  do  you  make  no  reply  to  me?" 
Eric  asked. 

*  *  Ah  !  I  had  no  idea  that  you  would  preach 
to  me  like  all  the  rest." 

Attracted  by  the  beauty  of  the  boy,  and 
his  bold  spirit,  Eric  had  come  to  the  deter- 
mination to  devote  himself  to  him,  and 
now,  for  an  instant,  he  experienced  a  re- 
vulsion of  feeling,  but  only  to  devote  him- 
self with  fresh  earnestness  to  his  resolve. 
He  would  soften  and  thaw  out  this  soul, 
naturally  hard,  or  made  so  by  the  training 
it  had  received. 

Roland  went  up  quietly  to  Eric,  and  re- 
quested him  to  ride  out  with  him.  They 
rode  together  to  the  village.  But  Roland 
could  not  be  induced  to  visit  the  dwarf, 
whom  Eric  found  lying  on  the  bed,  moan- 
ing and  groaning.  When  he  arrived  at  the 
house  of  the  huntsman,  he  did  not  find 
Roland,  who  had  gone  with  Devil  into  the 
woods  upon  the  height. 

The  huntsman  greeted  Eric  less  submis- 
sively ;  he  lifted  his  cap,  indeed,  but  only  to 
cock  it  a  little  one  side ;  he  approached 
him  in  that  familiar  way  so  common  on  the 
upper  Rhine,  where  it  always  seems  as  if 


one  would  touch  glasses,  and  make  himself 
friendly  with  you. 

"  Captain,"  he  asked,  "  have  you  settled 
matters  ?  " 

"No." 

"May  I  be  permitted  to  say  something 
to  you  ?  " 

"If  it  is  something  good,  why  not  ?  " 

"That's  just  as  one  takes  it.  That  one, 
down  there  "  —  he  pointed  with  his  thumb 
back  to  the  villa  —  "that  one  is  buying  up 
the  whole  Rhine-land.  But  see  you,  that 
fox-hound  there  —  " 

"Stop,"  at  once  exclaimed  Eric,  pro- 
ceeding to  point  out,  in  a  very  decisive  man- 
ner, that  he  bad  no  right  to  speak  so  to 
him,  and  about  another  person. 

Eric  was  aware  that  he  had  not  properly 
preserved  his  own  dignity,  or  this  man 
would  not  have  been  able  to  approach  him 
so  familiarly ;  and  he  was  now  more  se- 
vere in  repelling  this  forwardness  than  he 
intended.  The  hunstman  only  puffed  the 
more  vigorously  at  his  pipe,  and  then 
said, — 

"Yes,  yes,  you  are  the  one  to  seize  the 
man  down  there  by  the  throat,  and  I  see 
that  you  are  too  smart  for  me.  You  wish 
to  get  off  from  thanking  me ;  I  want  no 
thanks,  and  no  pay." 

He  muttered  to  himself,  that  everything 
which  came  near  the  rich  man  was  always 
spoilt. 

Eric  must  undo  somewhat  the  impression 
he  had  made,  for  the  hunstman  was  the  only 
one  who  could  rival  him  in  his  influence 
over  Roland.  The  hunstman  took,  in  very 
good  part,  Eric's  expressions  of  friendliness, 
but  he  remained  silent.  When  Roland 
came  back,  Eric  asked  him  nothing  about 
his  excursion  to  the  woods,  and  told  him 
nothing  about  the  dwarf.  It  was  Roland's 
place  to  ask  him,  but  the  boy  said  nothing, 
and  they  both  rode  back  in  silence. 

Eric  immediately  caused  himself  to  be 
announced  to  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  and  in- 
formed him  that  he  now  felt  compelled  to 
assume  a  definite  relation  with  Roland. 

"You  find  Roland,  then,  an  excellent 
youth  ?  " 

"  He  has  great  boldness,  determination, 
and  —  I  know  that  a  father  can  only  hear 
it  with  unwilling  ears,  but  after  your  search- 
ing inquiries  yesterday,  I  may  be  permitted 
to  hope  that  you  are  sufficiently  free  to  — " 

"  Certainly,  certainly;  only  speak  out." 

"  I  find  -a  degree  of  hard-heartedness, 
and  a  want  of  sympathy  with  the  purely  hu- 
man, surprising  at  such  an  age;"  and  Eric 
related  how  Roland  had  deported  himself 
in  regard  to  the  dwarf. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


68 

A  peculiar  smile  darted  over  Sonnen- 
kamp's  features,  as  he  asked, — 

"  And  do  you  feel  confident  that  you 
can  make  a  corrupted  nature  noble  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me,  1  said  nothing  about  a  cor- 
rupted nature ;  I  should  say,  rather,  that 
Roland  is  just  now  changing  his  voice,  in  a 
spiritual  sense,  and  one  cannot  judge  what 
tone  it  will  take ;  but  so  much  the  more  ne- 
cessity is  there  for  care  in  the  kind  of  influ- 
ence exerted." 

"  And  what  is  your  opinion  of  Roland's 
talents  P  * 

"  I  think  that  he  is  not  superior  to  the 
average.  He  has  a  good  natural  under- 
standing, and  a  quick  comprehension,  but 
persistency, —  that  is  indeed  very  question- 
able, and  I  have  already  observed  that  he 
goes  along  well  enough  a  certain  distance, 
then  comes  to  a  standstill,  and  will  pursue 
the  thought  no  farther.  I  am  not  yet  very 
clear  in  regard  to  this  mental  characteristic  ; 
if  it  cannot  be  changed  for  the  better,  I 
should  fear  that  Roland  would  be  unhappy, 
for  he  would  experience  no  abiding  satis- 
faction, nor  would  he  feel  the  delight,  nor 
the  obligation,  of  perseverance.  Yet  this  is, 
perhaps,  drawing  too  fine  a  thread." 

"  No,  no,  you  are  right.  I  place  no  re- 
liance upon  my  son's  stability  of  character ; 
he  only  lives  from  hand  to  mouth.  It  is  a 
bore  to  him  to  do  anything  of  which  he  can- 
not see  the  direct  result. 

"  That  is  the  way  with  children.  But 
such  children  never  make  sterling  men ; 
therefore  I  wanted  Roland  to  love  plants, 
as  he  would  then  be  obliged  to  learn  that 
there  was  something  which  can  at  no  time 
be  neglected  or  forgotten." 

"Iam  rejoiced,"  Eric  replied,  "  that  you 
here  remind  me  of  the  most  vital  points. 
First  of  all,  the  rich  man,  and  the  son  of  a 
rich  man,  like  the  prince  and  the  son  of 
a  prince,  have  only  subservient  friends. 
Against  my  will  I  have  become  Roland's 
play-fellow,  and  so' the  subsequent  serious 
work  will  be  interfered  with." 

"Is  it  impossible  then,  to  combine  work 
and  play  ?  " 

*'  I  hope  to  do  so.  But  the  necessity  of 
work  must  be  recognized."  Eric  contin- 
ued silent,  and  Sonnenkamp  asked, — 

"  You  have  still  another  point  P  " 

"  Most  certainly,  and  it  is  this.  As  I 
have  already  suggested,  Roland  must  ac- 
quire a  steadfast  relation  to  external  things, 
an  intimate  bond  of  union  with  them,  as 
then  only  will  he  be  at  home  in  the  world. 
He  who  has  no  recollections  of  childhood, 
no  deep  attachment  to  that  which  has  trans- 
pired around  him,  is  cut  off  from  the  very 
fountain-head  of  genial  and  hearty  affection. 


Question  yourself,  and  you  will  find-^- 
your  return  to  Germany  fully  proves  it  — 
that  the  heartfelt,  endearing,  recollections 
of  childhood  were  the  very  sustenance, 
what  one  may  perhaps  call  the  spiritual 
mother's  milk,  of  your  deepest  soul." 

Sonnenkamp  winced  at  these  words,  and 
Eric  added, — 

"  Homelessness  is  hurting  the  soal  of 
your  son." 

1 '  Homelessness  ?  "  Sonnenkamp  exclaimed 
in  astonishment. 

His  face  quivered  for  an  instant,  and  his 
athletic  strength  seemed  eager  to  make 
some  outward  demonstration,  but  he  re- 
strained it  within  the  bounds  of  forced  com- 
posure, asking, — 

"Do  I  rightly  apprehend  you?  Home- 
lessness ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  think.  The  inner  life 
of  the  child  needs  training,  that  it  may  cling 
to  something;  a  journey  is,  perhaps,  not 
harmful  to  the  soul  of  a  child  ;  at  the  best,  it 
has  little  effect  upon  him.  A  child  in  trav- 
elling has  no  distinct  impression  from  all 
the  changes  of  the  landscape ;  he  takes  de- 
light in  the  locomotive  at  the  station,  and 
in  the  wind-mill  on  the  hill.  One  fixed 
point  in  the  soul  anchors  it  firmly.  I  said 
that  the  human  being  ought  to  have  an  ob- 
ject to  strive  for,  but  permit  me  to  add  to 
that,  that  he  must  also  have  a  fixed  point  of 
departure,  and  that  is  the  home.  You  said, 
and  I  see  it  myself,  that  Roland  takes  no 
real  delight  in  anything;  and  is  not  that 
owing  to  the  fact  that  the  boy  is  homeless, 
a  child  of  hotels,  with  no  tap-root  in  any 
place,  and  still  more,  no  deep-seated  im- 
pressions, no  pictures  in  his  memory  which 
have  become  a  portion  of  his  very  life,  and 
to  which  he  returns  from  all  his  wayward 
fancies  ?  He  told  me  that  he  had  played 
in  the  Coliseum  at  Rome,  in  the  Louvre 
at  Paris,  in  Hyde-park  at  London,  and  on 
the  lake  of  Geneva, —  and  now,  living  in 
Europe,  yet  always  proudly  conscious  of 
being  an  American, —  this  causes — pardon 
me,  I  only  ask  the  question  —  does  this  not 
cause  a  restlessness  of  spirit,  which  may  be 
fatal  to  any  growth  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  Sonnenkamp  answered,  leaning 
back  his  head,  "you  are  an  incarnate,  or 
one  might  rather  say,  an  insouled  German, 
who  runs  over  the  whole  world,  in  reality 
and  in  thought,  and  cajoles  himself  always 
with  the  self-complacent  notion,  '  I  am  so 
whole-souled,  and  that  is  more  than  the 
rest  Qf  you  are.1  Pah  !  I  tell  you  that  if  I 
bestow  anything  of  worth  upon  my  child,  I 
believe  it  will  be  just  this,  that  he  will  be 
free  from  that  sentimentality  of  a  so-called 
settled  home.    The  whistle  of  the  locomo- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


69 


tive  scares  away  all  the  homesickness  so  ten- 
derly pampered  of  old.  We  are  in  fact 
cosmopolites,  and  that  is  just  the  greatness 
of  American  civilization,  that,  not  being 
rooted  in  the  past,  national  limitations  and 
rights  of  citizenship  have  no  narrowing  in- 
fluence upon  the  soul.  The  home-attach- 
ment is  an  old  nuisance  and  a  prejudice. 
Roland  is  to  become  an  untramelled  man." 

Eric  was  silent.  After  a  considerable 
time,  he  said  : — 

"It  is,  perhaps,  not  beneficial,  but  tire- 
some, both  to  you  and  to  me,  to  deal  in 
generalities.  I  would  only  say,  that  how- 
ever little  calculated  travelling  may  be  to 
create  an  inner  satisfaction,  when  there  is 
no  definite  object  to  be  attained  that  one 
can  all  along  hold  in  view,  much  less  can  a 
life  that  has  no  special  aim  of  action,  thought, 
or  enjoyment,  confer  any  central  peace.  If 
Roland  now  had  some  special  talent  —  11 

"  Do  you  find  none  at  all  in  him?  " 

"I  have  discovered  none  as  yet;  and 
still  it  seems  to  me,  that  if  he  had  been 
born  under  different  circumstances,  he 
would  have  made  a  serviceable  lock-smith,  or 
a  good  groom.  I  hope  you  do  not  misun- 
derstand that  —  I  consider  it  a  guaranty  for 
human  equality,  that  what  a  man  becomes, 
wholly  or  chiefly  depends  upon  circumstan- 
ces. Hundreds  of  judges  would  have  be- 
come, under  different  circumstances,  com- 
mon laborers,  and  hundreds  of  common 
laborers  would  have  become  judges.  As  I 
said  before,  it  is  to  me  a  direct  proof  of  the 
universally  diffused  capacities  of  human 
beings,  that  only  the  few  have  the  genius 
that  absolutely  demands  a  special  work.11 

"  I  understand,  I  understand.  And  do 
you  think  that  you  can  train  a  boy,  of  whom 
you  have  formed  so  low  an  opinion  ?  11 

"  I  have  not  a  low  opinion  of  Roland, 
neither  of  his  head  nor  his  heart.  He 
seems  to  me  not  unsusceptible  of  love,  but 
it  is  to  him  an  enjoyment,  not  also  a  duty ; 
he  has  the  qualities  belonging  to  the  aver- 
age of  men  not  marked  by  any  special  char- 
acteristic, and  those  are  entirely  sufficient 
to  form  him,  under  judicious  and  proper  di- 
rection, into  a  good  and  honorable  man, 
happy  himself,  and  able  to  make  others 
happy.  And  I  shall  be  very  glad,  in  the 
meanwhile,  if  I  am  mistaken  in  attributing 
to  Roland  no  special  genius." 

"I  honor  and  value  highly  your  great 
earnestness,11  Sonnenkamp  interposed,  "but 
I  am  just  now  in  great  haste.  Inform 
Roland  of  your  position." 

He  seemed  out  of  humor,  as  he  rolled  his 
cigar  from  one  corner  of  his  mouth  to  the 
other,  and  busied  himself  with  his  papers, 
just  as  if  Eric  were  no  longer  present. 


Eric  left  the  work-room  of  Sonnenkamp, 
and  betook  himself  to  Roland.  He  found 
the  boy  busily  employed  in  chewing  a  piece 
of  half-raw  meat,  and  giving  the  chewed 
morsels  to  the  lately  broken-in  dog ;  the 
huntsman  affirmed  that  that  would  attach 
the  dog  to  him  inseparably.  Eric  looked 
on  a  while,  and  then  requested  Roland  to 
send  the  dog  away,  as  he  had  something  to 
say  to  him. 

"  Can't  the  dog  stay  with  us  ?  " 

Eric  made  no  reply,  for  he  saw  that  he 
must  first  settle  whether  he  or  the  dog  had 
the  deepest  hold.  On  his  casting  a  sharp 
look  again  upon  Roland,  the  boy  said, 
"  Come,  Devil,  wait  here  at  the  door,"  and 
returning,  he  exclaimed,  "There,  now  go 
on."  > 

Eric  took  Roland^  hand,  and  informed 
him  that  he  had  come  to  be  his  tutor. 
Roland  leaned  his  handsome  head  upon  his 
partly  closed  hand,  gazing  at  the  speaker 
fixedly  with  his  large,  restless,  glowing  eyes. 

"  I  knew  it,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  And  who  told  you  ?  " 

"  The  huntsman  and  Joseph." 

11  And  why  did  you  say  nothing  to  me 
about  it  ? 11 

Roland  made  no  answer  to  this,  only 
looking  at  the  speaker,  as  if  he  would  say, 
"lean  wait."  He  only  once  removed  his 
gaze,  when  Eric  added,  that  he  had  wished 
to  try  first  whether  he  was  adapted  to  the 
family.  Roland  still  remained  silent.  The 
dog  scratched  at  the  door ;  Roland  looked 
towards  it,  but  did  not  venture  to  open 
it.  Eric  opened  it.  The  dog  sprang  in, 
crouched  down  before  Roland,  and  then 
went  to  Eric  and  licked  his  hands ;  he 
seemed  to  be  a  mysterious  messenger,  a  si- 
lent yet  eloquent  interpreter  between  them. 

"  He  likes  you  too  !  "  Roland  cried  out 
in  childish  delight. 

These  were  the  only  words  spoken  by  the 
boy.  Suddenly  springing  up,  he  threw  him- 
self upon  Eri^s  breast,  where  he  was  held 
in  a  firm  embrace  ;  the  dog  barked  as  if  he 
must  express  himself. 

"  We  will  be  true  to  each  other,"  Erjc 
exclaimed,  unclasping  his  arms;  "I had  a 
brother  of  your  age,  and  you  are  to  be  my 
younger  brother." 

Roland,  without  speaking,  held  Eri^s 
right  hand  between  both  of  his. 

"  Now  let  us  at  once  begin  our  life,  fresh 
and  bright." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Roland,  "  we'll  make 
Devil  fetch  something  out  of  the  water ;  he 
does  it  splendidly." 

"  No,  my  dear  brother,  we  will  go  to 
work.    Let  us  see  what  you  have  learned." 

Eric  had  noticed  particularly,  that  Ro- 


70 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


land,  who  was  deficient  in  every  other 
branch  of  knowledge,  had  a  pretty  good  ac- 
quaintance with  geography.  He  tested 
him  in  this,  and  Roland  was  highly  pleased 
to  be  able  to  give  him  accurate  answers. 
They  gradually  passed  to  the  consideration 
of  other  studies,  and  then  Roland  appeared 
confused,  and  for  Latin  he  had  a  hatred 
amounting  to  a  personal  hostility. 

"  We  will  quietly  study  what  is  neces- 
sary,11 Eric  said  consolingly,  "  and  then  we 
will  ride,  drive,  shoot,  fish,  and  row.11 

This  prospect  cheered  the  boy  very  much, 
and  when  the  clock  struck  in  the  tower,  he 
suddenly  observed,  — 

"  In  one  hour  Herr  von  Pranken  will  be 
with  Manna.  I  can  learn  to  ride,  fence, 
and  shoot,  as  well  as  Herr  von  Pranken, 
don^  you  think  I  can  ? 11 

"  Certainly  you  can.11 

"I  sent  a  letter,  too,  to  Manna  by  Herr 
von  Pranken.11 

"  What  language  did  you  write  it  in?  " 

"  English,  of  course.  Ah!  it  just  occurs 
O  me,  —  all  speak  so  highly  of  your  mother, 
let  your  mother  come  too ;  she  might  live 
out  there  in  our  small,  vine-covered  house.11 

The  boy  could  say  no  more,  for  Eric 
lifted  him  up,  pressed  him  to  his  breast,  and 
kissed  him.  The  boy  had  uttered  what  at 
first  sight  had  flashed  through  his  own  soul, 
and  now  it  was  evident  that  he  bestowed 
gladly,  loved  to  confer  benefits,  and  to  con- 
trive pleasure  for  others  ;  his  hard-hearted- 
ness  towards  the  dwarf  disappeared  as  a 
mere  superficial  blemish. 

A  servant  came  and  announced  that  din- 
ner was  served.  Holding  each  other  by 
the  hand,  Roland  and  Eric  went  to  the 
dining-room. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  RIVAL. 

The  dinner  was  as  ceremonious  as  it  had 
been  the  day  before.  Frau  Ceres,  who  ap- 
peared again  at  table,  betrayed  by  no  look 
or  word  that  she  had  conversed  so  confiden- 
tially with  Eric ;  she  addressed,  frequently, 
some  brief  remark  to  him ;  but  again  all 
were  occupied  in  urging  her  to  eat  some- 
thing. Eric  wondered  at  the  patience  with 
which  Sonnenkamp  did  this  again  and 
again. 

After  dinner,  while  they  were  taking 
coÜee,  Sonnenkamp  observed  to  Eric  in  a 
careless  way,  that  a  new  applicant  had  pre- 
sented himself,  who  brought  the  highest 
recommendation  from  Roland^  last  tutor, 
the  candidate  Knopf.  He  gave  Eric  to  un- 
derstand that  they  did  not  receive  every 


one  at  once  to  dinner,  and  ordered  Joseph 
to  introduce  the  stranger. 

A  slim,  sunburnt  man  entered.  He  was 
introduced  to  the  company.  Eric  was  in- 
troduced by  the  title  of  Captain,  Doctor 
being  suffered  temporarily  to  rest  in  peace. 
The  stranger,  whose  name  was  Professor 
Crutius,  had  been  a  fellow-student  with  the 
candidate  Knopf,  had  seen  a  good  deal  of 
the  world,  and,  finally,  for  several  years, 
had  been  professor  in  the  military  school 
at  West  Point,  near  New  York. 

He  gave  this  information  with  great  ease, 
but  in  rather  a  harsh  tone  of  voice. 

Sonnenkamp  seemed  to  have  reserved 
this  entertainment  for  the  dessert,  to  allow 
the  two  applicants  to  engage  in  a  tilt  with 
each  other,  while  quietly  smoking  his  cigar. 
He  was  very  shrewd  in  finding  the  points 
where  they  could  attack  each  other,  but  he 
was  not  not  a  little  surprised  that  Eric  im- 
mediately laid  down  his  arms ;  expressing 
his  thanks  to  the  stranger,  he  said  that  he 
envied  his  rich  experience  in  life,  and  his 
wide  survey  of  the  world,  while  he  himself 
had,  to  his  regret,  been  confined  to  the  lim- 
ited circle  of  the  Principality  and  to  the 
world  of  books. 

The  stranger  had  made  the  discovery 
very  soon  that  Fräulein  Perini  was  the 
hair-spring  in  the  watchwork  of  this  house- 
hold, and  he  found  that  they  had  some  re- 
miniscences in  common.  Crutius  had  ac- 
companied an  American  family  to  Italy, 
and  had  gone  from  thence  to  the  New 
World. 

In  a  manner  showing  candor  and  experi- 
ence, he  described  the  characteristics  of  an 
American  boy  of  the  upper  class,,  and  how 
such  a  boy  must  be  managed.  Without  di- 
rectly pointing  it  out,  this  description  was 
evidently  intended  for  Roland,  who  sat  gaz- 
ing at  the  stranger. 

Eric,  standing  with  Sonnenkamp  by  the 
balcony-railing,  which  he  grasped  tightly  in 
his  hands,  said  that  he  himself  was  not  suf- 
ficiently prepared,  and  that  the  stranger 
would  be,  probably,  the  most  fitting  per- 
son. 

Sonnenkamp  made  no  reply,  puffing  out 
quickly  cloud  after  cloud  of  smoke  into  the 
air. 

"Magnanimity,11  he  thought  to  himself. 
"Magnanimity,  —  nothing  but  smoke  and 
vapor.11 

The  stranger  was  very  zealously  engaged 
in  conversation  with  Frau  Ceres  and  Fräu- 
lein Perini.  Roland  went  to  his  father,  and 
said,  in  a  voice  as  determined  as  it  was 
low,  — 

"  Send  him  away  ;  I  don^  want  him." 
"Why  not?" 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


71 


"  Because  I  have  Herr  Eric,  and  be- 
cause Herr  Knopf  has  sent  him." 

"  Go  to  your  own  room  ;  you  have  noth- 
ing to  say  about  this,"  Eric  ordered. 

The  boy  stared  at  him,  and  went. 

Eric  declared  to  the  father  that  Roland's 
instinctive  feeling  was  just ;  the  bitterness 
against  his  former  teacher  he  could  not  at 
all  judge  of,  but  it  was  evident  that  the  boy 
wanted  to  be  received  by  some  entirely  un- 
prejudiced stranger. 

Sonnenkamp  was  surprised  at  this  kindly 
appreciation  on  Eric's  part,  especially  when 
he  went  on  to  state  how  unpleasant  a  thing 
it  must  be  for  the  boy  to  be  transferred  in 
this  way  from  one  hand  to  another. 

The  stranger,  in  the  meanwhile,  had 
asked  Fraulein  Perini  whether  Sonnen- 
kamp had  any  relatives,  whether  that  had 
always  been  his  name,  and  whether  he  re- 
ceived many  letters.  He  touched  upon  one 
and  another  point  in  his  conversation,  evi- 
dently to  reconnoitre  the  state  of  feeling 
entertained  by  the  family  concerning  Amer- 
ica ;  and  when  Sonnenkamp,  with  great  en- 
ergy, asserted  that  he  should  like  a  dictator 
for  America,  who  would  put  to  rout  the 
rascality  there,  Crutius  said,  that  there 
were  very  many  in  the  New  World  who 
really  cherished  the  conviction  and  desire 
that  America  would  establish  a  monarchy, 
but  didn't  dare  to  say  so. 

Sonnenkamp  nodded  to  himself,  and 
whistled  again  inaudibly. 

"  Where  did  you  put  up  ?  "  he  abruptly 
inquired  of  the  stranger. 

Crutius  named  an  inn  in  the  village. 

"There  you  are  very  well  quartered." 

The  stranger's  countenance  changed  for 
an  instant.  He  had  evidently  expected 
that  his  luggage  would  be  sent  for,  and 
that  he  would  be  received  as  a  guest  in  the 
house. 

Sonnenkamp  thanked  him  very  courte- 
ously for  the  call,  and  requested  him  to 
give  his  address  in  full,  so  that  he  might 
be  written  to  if  there  should  be  occasion. 
The  stranger's  hand  trembled  as  he  took 
out  his  well-worn  pocket-book,  and  gave  his 
card.  He  took  leave  with  formal  politeness. 

Sonnenkamp  requested  Eric  to  escort  his 
fellow-teacher  a  part  of  the  way,  and  handed 
him  several  gold  pieces,  which  he  was  to  give 
to  the  needy -looking  man  in  a  suitable  man- 
ner. 

"  Is  this  friendly  confidence,  or  is  it  ex- 
pected as  a  service?"  Eric  asked  himself, 
as  he  went  after  the  stranger. 

He  overtook  him  near  the  park-wall,  and 
when  Eric  represented  himself  to  be  also  a 
teacher,  the  countenance  of  the  professor 
changed,  and  he  exclaimed  :  — 


• 4  Ah !  a  teacher  then,  and  perhaps  my 
competitor  ?  " 

Eric  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

Crutius  looked  sour  at  this  ;  he  had  been 
gratified  at  the  friendly  encouragement  of 
the  captain,  whom  he  took  to  be  an  inmate 
of  the  family,  and  he  was  grateful  to  him 
for  the  praise  he  had  given  him ;  but  now 
he  turned  out  to  be  a  teacher  too !  He 
gnashed  his  teeth  a  little  over  this  mistake. 

Eric  tendered  him  the  present  of  gold 
with  great  delicacy,  putting  himself  on  an 
equality  with  the  stranger,  making  known 
his  own  poverty,  and  declaring  how  impos- 
sible it  often  was  not  to  accept  from  those 
who  ha'd  means. 

"Ha!  ha!"  the  stranger  laughed  out. 
"  He  knows  me;  he  wishes  to  put  me  un- 
der obligation  and  release  himself!  " 

Eric  said  that  he  did  not  understand  such 
expressions. 

"Indeed!"  the  stranger  said,  laughing. 
"  So  innocence  with  a  captain's  rank  allows 
itself  also  to  be  bought  ?  The  whole  world 
is  nothing  but  an  old  rag-shop.  What 
matter !  The  den  where  the  tiger  devours 
Iiis  prey  is  very  fine  and  very  tasty  !  paint 
and  tapestry  can  cover  up  a  good  deal ! 
I  ask  your  pardon,  I  have  taken  wine  this 
morning,  and  I  am  not  used  to  it.  Well, 
hand  it  over !  My  most  humble  compli- 
ments to  Villa  Eden  !  Ha !  ha !  a  very  nice 
name ! " 

Without  adding  a  word  more,  the  stranger, 
grasping  tightly  the  gold,  touched  his  hat, 
and  walked  off  at  a  rapid  pace. 

Eric  returned  to  Sonnenkamp  in  a  med- 
itative mood.  Sonnenkamp  invited  him  to 
be  seated,  in  a  very  friendly  manner,  ask- 
ing, — 

"Did  he  take  the  money?" 
Eric  nodded. 

"And  of  course,  with  hardly  a  thank 

you  ?  " 

Eric  said  that  the  man  had  acknowledged, 
of  his  own  accord,  that  he  had  been  drink- 
ing wine  that  morning,  and  was  not  used 
to  it. 

Pointing  to  a  great  packet  of  letters, 
Sonnenkamp  said  that  they  were  all  applica- 
tions for  the  advertised  situation.  He  expa- 
tiated very  merrily  upon  the  great  number 
of  persons  who  depend  upon  some  wind-fall 
or  other ;  if  one  should  only  open  a  honey- 
pot,  suddenly  bees,  wasps,  and  golden-flies 
appear,  nothing  of  which  had  been  seen  be- 
fore.   Then  he  continued  :  — 

"I  can  give  you  a  contribution  to  your 
knowledge  of  men." 

"  Anything  about  Herr  Crutius  ?  " 

"  No  ;  of  your  very  much  be-pitied  dwarf. 
It  is  really  refreshing  to  find  such  a  charm- 


72 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ing  piece  of  rascality.  I  have  known  for  a 
long  time  how  smart  he  was  in  stealing  the 
black  wood-vetch  from  the  hill  above ;  but 
now  the  bite  received  in  training  the  dog  is 
nothing  but  a  lie. '  I  have  already  informed 
Roland  of  it,  and  I  am  glad  that  he  can  be- 
come acquainted  so  early  with  the  vileness 
and  deceitfulness  of  men.1' 

"  You  will  not  keep  the  dwarf  any  longer 
in  your  employment,  I  suppose  ?  " 

44 Certainly  I  shall.  I  am  delighted  that  the 
droll  little  man  has  so  much  rascality.  It  is 
a  perfect  satisfaction  to  play  with  the  vil- 
lainy and  roguery  of  people,  and  I  should 
like  to  have  half  a  dozen  such  on  hand,  so 
as  to  teach  Roland  how  to  deal  with  chaps 
of  that  stamp." 

"  I  would  rather  not  be  able  to  give  him 
that  instruction,1'  said  Eric. 

"It  is  not  for  you  to  do  that;  you  are 
here  for  something  else." 

Eric  left  Sonnenkanip's  room,  greatly  de- 
pressed. 

A  servant  informed  him  that  Roland  was 
waiting  for  him  at  the  river-bank ;  he  went 
there,  and  Roland  invited  him  to  take  a  sail 
with  him  on  the  Rhine.  He  unfastened  the 
pretty  boat  from  the  shore,  and  rowed  ex- 
pertly out  into  the  stream ;  it  was  now  a 
dark  green,  and  the  islands  above,  with 
their  dense  foliage,  seemed  to  be  growing 
out  of  a  soil  of  liquid  emerald. 

A  fresh  breeze  rippled  the  surface ;  Ro- 
land was  happy  that  he  could  unfurl  the  sail, 
and  showed  himself  skilful  in  his  mastery 
over  the  elements.  Every  movement  was 
so  graceful  that  Eric  took  great  delight  in 
looking  at  him. 

Eric  was  a  novice  on  the  water,  and  he 
was  glad  to  give  Roland  the  satisfaction  of 
instructing  him,  and  of  showing  him  how  the 
boat  is  made  to  turn,  and  to  go  in  any  direc- 
tion. There  was  a  joyous  tone  in  Roland's 
voice  that  Eric  had  never  remarked  before. 

And  while  they  were  sailing  along  with  a 
full  breeze,  the  splashing  waves  striking 
against  the  boat,  Roland  spoke  of  the  can- 
didate Knopf,  who  first  made  him  really  at 


home  upon  the  water.    Knopf  could  row, 

sail,  steer,  and  make  the  boat  describe  a 
circle  in  the  water,  better  than  the  best 
boatman.  Yes,  better  than  the  boatman's 
wife  even,  a  large,  powerful  woman,  who 
now  called  out  to  him  as  she  steered  a  large 
boat  made  fast  to  a  tow-boat,  while  her 
husband,  a  not  less  powerful  form,  leaned 
against  the  mast. 

Roland,  steering  towards  the  tow-boat, 
made  fast  to  the  boat  which  the  woman  was 
managing.  She  chatted  with  him  without 
looking  round,  for  she  must  keep  the  exact 
course.  When  they  had  gone  far  enough, 
Roland  unfastened  the  boat,  and  sailed 
back  with  the  current. 

He  gave  a  humorous  account  of  the 
helmswoman's  rule  over  her  husband,  but 
Eric  led  the  conversation  to  the  candidate 
Knopf.  Roland  was  not  inclined  to  say 
anything  more  about  him,  nor  to  speak  of 
his  previous  tutors,  who  were  evidently  re- 
garded by  him  with  as  much  indifference  as 
is  a  yesterday's  waiter  at  a  hotel,  or  a  dis- 
charged servant.  Who  will  ask  about  peo- 
ple whom  they  have  dismissed?  It  was 
only  apparent,  from  some  words  dropped  by 
Roland,  that  this  candidate  must  have  had 
a  warm  affection  for  his  pupil. 

Mention  was  made,  also,  of  the  dwarf, 
and  Roland  took  it  very  coolly  that  tie  had 
turned  out  a  rascal,  for  he  regarded  all  poor 
people  as  rascals. 

Eric  had  gained  in  this  sail  a  new  and 
deeper  knowledge  of  his  pupil ;  pity  was 
now  added  to  the  love  he  felt  for  the  boy, 
who  had  so  early  acquired  a  contempt  for 
the  world,  and  who  appeared  to  have  no 
person  and  no  thing  to  which  he  clung  in- 
separably, and  the  thought  of  which  gave 
him  new  inspiration.  Only  with  his  sister 
did  he  seem  to  have  any  real  bond  of  af- 
fection, for  as  they  were  approaching  the 
villa,  he  said :  — 

"Just  as  I  am  now  walking  with  you, 
Manna  is  walking  with  Herr  von  Pranken. 
I  think  that  you  and  Manna,  when  she 
comes,  will  also  be  good  friends." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


73 


BOOK  III.  —  CHAPTER  I. 
THE  SUBTERRANEAN  CALL. 

A  fragrant  strawberry  glistens  on  the 
ground,  beautiful  to  the  eye,  and  luscious 
to  the  taste.  If  there  were  some  method 
of  seeing,  or  even  of  hearing,  what  was  go- 
ing on  at  the  root  of  the  plant,  we  might 
perhaps  be  able  to  discern  how  the  am- 
monia, homely,  and  of  very  pungent  odor, 
turned  up  conceitedly  its  nose,  as  much  as 
to  say,  What  indeed  would  all  this  be  with- 
out me  ? 

The  potash,  on  the  other  hand,  brightly 
glistening  and  sweet-smelling,  is  under  no 
necessity  of  saying  anything,  for  its  very 
appearance  says  already,  All  the  scientific 
men  of  the  upper  worid  speak  on  my  be- 
half. 

And  the  hard,  silicious  earth,  in  its  com- 
fortable repose,  might  be  understood  to 
say,  I  am  an  aboriginal  inhabitant,  and 
what  do  these  transient  fellows  want? 
To-day  here,  and  to-morrow  gone ;  I  have 
already  lived  through  a  great  deal,  —  every- 
thing goes  by  fashion. 

The  maggot-worm  grubs  at  the  root, 
blinking  with  its  cunning  eyes,  and  thinks, 
The  rest  are  happy  in  rendering  service, 
but  I  —  I  fatten  myself.  The  earth-worm 
rolls  itself  along  in  a  proud  feeling  of  tri- 
umph that  it  can  go  through  the  streets  and 
water-courses,  whereon  everything  is  mov- 
ing hither  and  thither.  A  mole,  that  has 
nestled  in  the  neighborhood,  lies  in  wait 
for  the  moment  when  the  maggot-worm  is 
taking  a  little  nap,  after  its  surfeit,  and 
gobbles  it  up. 

Such  are  the  manifold  operations  of  life 
and  movement  down  there  at  the  roots, 
and  such  also  are  those  in  the  servants1 
room  of  Villa  Eden  above. 

Herr  Sonnenkarap  has  a  wise  rule,  al- 
though many  consider  it  hard-hearted,  that 
all  his  servants  must  be  unmarried.  They 
receive  good  wages,  are  in  want  of  noth- 
ing, but  make  no  pretension  to  family  lile. 
A  beggar  never  comes  into  the  well- 
kept  garden,  for  he  would  disturb  its  com- 
fortable serenity.  He  receives  alms,  at  the 
entrance,  from  the  keeper  of  the  lodge,  and 
the  old  cook  oftentimes  complains  that  the 
remnants  of  food,  which  might  nourish 
many  a  hungry  one,  go  so  utterly  to  waste. 

It  is  noon.  They  take  their  meals  here, 
long  before  the  table  of  their  master  above  is 
set.  Two  grooms  and  a  third  coachman, 
who  keep  watch  in  the  stables,  eat  by  them- 
selves in  silence,  for  they  must  relieve  the 
others. 

The  superintendent  here  below  is  the 
head-cook,  dressed  in  light  clothes,  and 


called  for  shortness,  "the  chief;"  of  a 
burly  and  portly  figure,  with  a  beardless 
face,  and  a  large  hawk-nose,  he  plays  here 
the  marquis.  His  German  is  a  sort  of  jar- 
gon, but  he  rules  over  the  subordinate 
cook  and  kitchen-maids,  with  absolute 
sway. 

The  watchmen  have  dined.  A  long 
table  is  laid  for  more  than  a  dozen  persons, 
and  they  come  in  one  after  another. 

The  first  who  makes  his  appearance,  or, 
rather,  the  one  to  whom  the  first  entrance 
is  conceded,  is  the  head-coachman,  Bert- 
ram, with  a  powerful,  gigantic  form.  He 
has  a  great  red  beard,  parted  in  two  wav- 
ing masses  coming  to  a  peak,  with  an  em- 
broidered waistcoat  covering  his  hips,  and 
over  it  a  striped  blue  and  white  jacket, 
with  just  a  slight  badge  of  distinction  from 
that  of  the  other  coachmen. 

With  a  greeting  to  the  whole  corps  of 
servants,  Bertram  seats  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  table  with  Joseph  on  his  right,  and 
the  head-gardener  on  his  left.  Next  to 
this  one,  a  little  man,  with  seamed  face 
and  rapidly  glancing  eyes,  takes  a  seat ; 
this  is  Lutz,  the  courier.  Then  the  rest 
seat  themselves  according  to  their  rank, 
the  stable-boys  and  the  men  working  in  the 
garden  being  placed  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  table. 

The  first  female  cook,  a  special  favorite 
of  Fräulein  Perini,  insisted  strenuously 
upon  grace  being  said  before  dinner. 
Bertram,  the  travelled  coachman,  a  de- 
cided free-thinker,  always  busied  himself 
during  the  blessing  with  his  great  embroid- 
ered waistcoat,  which  he  drew  proudly 
down  over  his  hips.  Joseph  folded  his 
hands,  but  did  not  move  his  lips ;  the  rest 
prayed  silently. 

No  sooner  was  the  soup  removed,  and  a 
little  wine  sipped,  —  for  the  servants  had 
their  wine  every  day,  —  than  Bertram 
sorted  the  talk,  and  upon  a  very  definite 
topic. 

' '  I  was  just  waiting  to  see  whether  Lieu- 
tenant Dournay  would  recognise  me  ;  I  be- 
longed to  his  battery." 

"Indeed!"  Joseph  delightedly  chimed 
in.  "He  was  right  popular,  I'm  cer- 
tain?" 

Bertram  did  not  consider  it  incumbent 
upon  him  to  give  a  direct  reply.  He  only 
said  that  he  could  never  have  believed  that 
Herr  Dournay  would  ever  become  a  ser- 
vant. 

"  Servant?" 

"Yes,  a  servant  like  us;  and  because 
he  knows  something  of  books,  a  tutor." 

Joseph  smiled  in  a  melancholy  way,  and 
took  great  pains  to  bring  the  table  over  to 


74 


THE  COUNTRY -nOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


a  correct  view.  First  he  praised  the  cele- 
brated father  of  Eric,  who  had  received  at 
least  twenty  decorations ;  and  his  mother, 
who  belonged  to  the  nobility ;  and  he  was 
very  happy  to  say  that  Captain  Dournay 
understood  all  about  the  sciences,  and, 
to  throw  at  their  heads  the  very  hardest 
names  which  he  could  get  hold  of,  —  An- 
thropology, Osteology,  Archaeology,  and 
Petrifactology  —  all  these  the  captain  was 
master  of;  he  was  a  complete  university  in 
himself.  But  he  did  not  succeed  in  con- 
vincing the  company  that  Eric  was  any- 
thing else  than  a  servant. 

The  head-gardener  said,  in  a  high-Prus- 
sian dialect :  — 

* 'Anyhow,  he  is  a  handsome  man,  and 
sits  his  horse  well ;  but  he  don't  know  a 
thing  about  gardening." 

Lootz,  the  courier,  praised  Eric  for 
speaking  good  French  and  English,  but  of 
course,  when  it  came  to  Russian,  and 
Turkish,  and  Polish,  the  learned  gentle- 
man didn't  understand  them  ;  for  Lutz  him- 
self, as  a  journeyman  tailor,  having  made 
the  tour  of  all  countries,  understood  all 
languages.  He  had  attended  formerly 
Fräulein  von  Pranken,  the  present  Count- 
ess Wolfsgarten,  and  two  English  ladies, 
on  their  travels ;  now  he  acted  as  courier 
for  Herr  Sonnenkamp  on  his  journeys,  and 
was  idle  the  rest  of  the  time,  unless  one 
calls  work  the  carrying  of  the  letter-bag 
to  and  from  the  railroad  station,  and  the 
playing  of  the  guitar,  which  the  little  man 
practised  a  good  deal,  with  the  accompani- 
ment of  his  own  whistling.'  He  had  also  a 
secret  service. 

There  appeared  to  be  a  tacit  agreement 
at  the  table,  that  they  should  make  no  re- 
ply to  anything  that  Lutz  said ;  he  only 
received  a  smile  from  the  second  female 
oook,  with  whom"  he  had  a  tender  but  not 
acknowledged  relation. 

A  man  with  Sarmatian  features  and  a 
Polish  accent  claimed  for  Herr  von 
Pranken  the  credit  of  having  brought  the 
man  into  the  house.  Bertram  gave  Joseph 
a  slight  nudge,  and  proceeded  to  praise  Herr 
von  Pranken  in  the  most  eulogistic  terms, 
while  Joseph  winked  slyly,  as  if  he  would 
say,  Just  so ;  this  shows  again  that  the  Pole 
is  in  the  secret  service  of  Herr  von 
Pranken. 

Now  they  speculated  whether  Herr  von 
Pranken  would  take  up  his  abode  in  the 
house  after  his  marriage  with  Manna,  for 
this  event  was  regarded  as  a  settled  thing. 

A  gardener,  who  stammered  a  little,  re- 
marked that  it  was  said  at  the  village  inn, 
that  Herr  Sonnenkamp  had"  been  a  tailor. 
All  laughed,  and  the  stuttering  gardener, 


who  was  the  special  butt  of  the  circle,  was 
more  and  more  spurred  on  to  talk,  and 
bantered  till  he  became  blue  in  the  face. 
Bertram,  taking  both  waves  of  his  long 
beard  in  his  hands,  exclaimed  :  — 

"  If  any  one  should  tell  me  that,  Pd 
show  him  how  his  teeth  taste." 

"Just  let  people  talk,"  said  soothingly 
the  head-gardener,  with  a  smile  in  advance 
at  his  own  wisdom,  as  he  added,  "  As  soon 
as  a  man  gets  on  in  the  world  he  must 
make  up  his  mind  to  be  slandered." 

One  of  the  hostlers  gave  an  account  of 
a  scuffle  which  had  taken  place  between 
them  and  the  servants  of  the  so-called 
Wine-count,  who  reproached  them  with  be- 
ing the  servants  of  a  man  whom  nobody 
knew  anything  about, — who  he  was,  or 
where  he  came  from ;  and  that  one  of  them 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  Frau  Son- 
nenkamp was  a  purchased  slave. 

The  secret,  and,  in  fact,  not  very  edify- 
ing history  of  several  families  was  now  re- 
lated, until  the  stout  female  cook  cried  out 
at  last :  — 

' '  Do  stop  that  talk !  My  mother  used 
to  say,  that 

*  Whether  houses  be  great  or  small, 
There  lies  a  stone  before  them  all.'" 

The  second  gardener,  a  lean,  thin  man, 
with  a  peaked  face,  called  the  squirrel,  who 
often  had  prayers  with  the  pious  people  of 
the  neighborhood,  began  a  very  evangelical 
discourse  about  evil  speaking.  He  had, 
originally,  been  a  gardener,  then  a  policeman 
in  a  northern  capital,  where  Sonnenkamp  be- 
came acquainted  with  him,  and  placed  him 
back  again  in  his  first  occupation,  employ- 
ing him  frequently  in  commissions  that 
called  for  special  circumspection. 

An  ancient  kitchen-maid,  who  sat  apart, 
holding  in  her  lap  the  plate  from  which  she 
was  eating,  cried  suddenly  :  — 

"  You  may  say  what  you  please,  the  gen- 
tleman who  has  just  come  marries  the 
daughter  of  the  family.  Just  bear  that  in 
mind.  Mark  my  words.  He  hasn't  come 
for  the  young  gentleman,  but  for  the  young 
lady.  There  was  once  on  a  time  a  prince 
and  a  princess  in  the  castle,  and  the  prince 
put  on  a  servant's  dress  —  yes,  laugh  away, 
but  it  is  just  so." 

Joseph  and  Bertram  exchanged  glances 
full  of  meaning. 

Now  there  was  a  general  joking.  Every 
one  wished  to  have  his  fortune  told  by  old 
Kate.  The  courier  made  fun  of  supersti- 
tious people,  but  assumed  a  very  forced 
smile  when  Bertram  called  out :  — 

"Yes,  indeed,  the  tailors  are  all  enlight- 
ened, they  don't  believe  in  hell." 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


75 


There  was  no  end  to  the  laughing  now. 
Suddenly  a  voice  sounded  from  the  ceil- 
ing:— 

"Bertram  is  to  put  the  horses  to  the 
glass-carriage,  and  Joseph  to  come  up." 

The  company  at  the  table  broke  up ;  the 
hostlers  went  to  the  stables,  where  they 
smoked  their  pipes,  the  gardeners  to  the 
park  and  the  green-houses.  Joseph  told 
two  servants  to  set  the  dinner-table,  and 
there  was  stillness  under  ground.  Only 
the  kettles  bubbled  and  hissed,  and  the 
chief  surveyed  with  lofty  mien  the  progress 
of  his  work. 

An  hour  later,  Lootz  received  the  letters 
which  he  was  to  carry  to  the  station,  and, 
in  a  very  casual  and  innocent  way,  related 
that  the  new  tutor  had  as  adherents  in  the 
house,  Bertram,  who  was  formerly  stationed 
in  his  battery,  and  Joseph,  who  considered 
himself  committed  to  him  as  coming  from 
the  University.  It  had  never  been  said  in 
so  many  words  that  Lutz  was  to  be  a  spy 
over  the  servants,  but  it  was  understood,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  between  him  and  his 
master. 

CHAPTER  Et. 
A  SUNDAY  FILLED  OUT. 

Eric  had  wished  to  write  a  letter  to  his 
mother  out  of  fairy-land,  when  he  rode  as 
if  under  a  spell  of  enchantment  through  the 
wood,  where  all  was  music,  fragrance,  and 
brightness.  Yes,  then  !  It  was  only  a  few 
days  ago,  and  yet  it  seems  as  if  years  had 
elapsed.  How  much  in  these  few  days  had 
Eric  thought,  seen,  experienced !  The  let- 
ter is  an  entirely  different  one. 

On  Sunday  there  was  a  change  in  the 
household  arrangements,  no  common  break- 
fast being  served.  When  Eric  met  Son- 
nenkamp  in  the  garden,  the  latter  asked 
him  if  he  would  go  with  them  to  church. 
Eric  answered  no,  at  once,  adding  in  ex- 
planation, that  by  going  he  should  be  guilty 
of  an  act  of  hypocrisy ;  as  a  mark  of  re- 
spect for  a  confession  not  his  own,  he  might 
perhaps  be  willing  to  go,  but  a  different 
view  would  be  taken  of  it. 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 
But  this  straight-forwardness  seemed  to 
have  an  effect  upon  him,  for  he  said,  — 

"  Good ;  one  is  at  no  loss  to  find  out 
your  opinion." 

The  tone  was  ambiguous,  but  Eric  inter- 
preted it  favorably. 

After  all  had  gone  to  church,  Eric  sat 
alone,  writing  to  his  mother.  He  began  by 
saying  that  he  seemed  to  himself  like  Ulys- 
ses thrown  upon  a  strange  island ;  he  had, 
indeed,  no  fellow-voyagers  to  take  care  of, 


but  he  had  for  companions  many  noble  sen- 
timents, and  he  must  watch  sharp  lest  they 
be  turned  into  

Just  as  he  was  writing  the  word,  he  stopped  ; 
that  was  not  the  proper  tone.  He  destroyed 
the  sheet,  and  began  again.  He  narrated, 
simply  and  briefly,  the  interview  with  Pran- 
ken, Clodwig,  and  Bella,  saying  that  as  the 
Homeric  heroes  were  under  the  special  pro- 
tection of  the  gods,  so  to-day  a  different 
and  better  one  was  vouchsafed,  and  he  was 
accompanied  by  the  spirit  and  noble  char- 
acter of  his  parents.  In  speaking  of  Ro- 
land, he  said  that  wealth  had  a  peculiar 
power  to  excite  the  fancy,  and  a  mighty  en- , 
ergy  in  carrying  out  its  purposes,  for'  Ro- 
land had  already  removed  her  into  the  small, 
vine-covered  house. 

The  bells  were  ringing  in  the  village,  and 
Eric  wrote  with  flying  speed  about  his  con- 
ception of  the  noble  vocation  of  guiding 
in  the  right  path  a  human  being,  upon 
whom  was  conferred  the  great  and  influential 
power  of  wealth. 

And  now,  mingled  with  the  ringing  of  the 
bells,  there  came  suddenly  the  recollection 
of  that  narrative  in  the  Gospel  of  the  rich 
young  man  coining  to  Jesus.  He  did  not 
remember  the  precise  question  and  answer, 
and  he  looked  for  a  Bible  in  Roland's  libra- 
ry, but  there  was  no  Bible  there ;  yet  it 
seemed  as  if  he  could  go  no  farther,  until 
he  had  become  exactly  acquainted  with  that 
incident. 

He  went  down  into  the  garden ;  there  he 
came  across  the  gardener,  the  so-called 
squirrel,  who  was  very  happy  to  be  able  to 
give  an  affirmative  answer  to  the  question 
whether  he  had  a  Bible.  With  words  full 
of  unction  he  brought  one  to  Eric,  who 
took  it  with  him  to  his  room. 

He  wrote  no  more,  he  read  for  a  long 
time ;  then  he  sat  there  motionless,  his 
head  resting  upon  his  left  hand,  which  cov- 
ered his  eyes,  until  Roland  returned  from 
church,  and  laid  down  his  prayer-book. 
As  Eric  grasped  now  the  hand  which  had 
deposited  the  book,  the  inquiry  darted 
through  his  soul,  Wilt  thou  be  able  to  give 
the  youth  a  like  firm  trust  as  a  compensa- 
tion, if  thou  shouldest  

His  thoughts  were  interrupted,  for  Roland 
said,  — 

"You  have  procured  a  Bible,  then?1' 
With  childish  pleasure  he  informed  him  that, 
by  means  of  the  gardener,  it  had  been  re- 
ported all  over  the  house.  Eric  felt  obliged 
to  declare  to  the  boy  that  he  held  this  book 
in  high  esteem,  and  thought  there  was  no 
other  to  be  compared  with  it,  but  that  he 
had  none  of  the  customary  ecclesiastical  rev- 
erence for  it. 


76 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Do  you  know  this  ?  "  Eric  asked,  point- 
ing to  the  passage  about  the  rich  young 
man. 

Roland  read  it,. and  when  Eric  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  it,  Roland  only 
stared,  for  he  had  evidently  not  perceived 
the  difficulty  of  the  problem  there  enun- 
ciated. Eric  avoided  enlightening  him  now 
in  regard  to  the  meaning  of  the  parable ; 
he  would  wait.  A  seed-grain  lies  at  first 
motionless  in  the  earth,  until  it  is  stirred  in- 
to activity  by  its  own  vital  forces.  Eric 
knew  that  at  this  moment  such  a  seed-grain 
had  fallen  into  the  child's  soul.  He  would 
.  bide  quietly  the  time  when  it  should  germi- 
nate and  spring  up. 

He  complied  with  Roland's  desire  that  he 
would  go  with  him  to  meet  the  major,  who 
came  every  Sunday  to  dinner.  They  walked 
for  a  while  in  the  road  under  the  nut-trees, 
and  then  up  the  hill  through  the  vineyards. 
They  saw,  near  a  large  open  space  where 
stakes  only  were  standing,  the  Major,  with 
whom  we  have  already  become  acquainted 
at  Wolfsgarten ;  he  was  to-day  in  full  uni- 
form, with  all  his  badges. 

Whilst  the  established  nobility  of  the 
region  were  very  reserved  in  their  visits  to 
the  Sonnenkamp  mansion,  the  Major  was 
the  banner  of  distinction  to  this  household, 
Frau  Ceres  being  especially  delighted  that 
a  man  with  so  many  badges  should  devote 
himself  to  her  in  so  friendly  a  way .  Evil 
tongues,  indeed,  reported  that  the  Major, 
in  consideration  of  this  attention  to  the 
ladies,  and  this  Sunday  display  of  his 
badges,  received  no  trifling  addition  to  his 
not  very  large  pension,  but  this  was  pure 
scandal,  for  the  Major,  or  rather  Fräulein 
Milch,  strenously  refused  to  accept  presents 
from  any  one  in  the  region,  nor  would  they 
allow  themselves  to  be  in  any  manner  depen- 
dent. 

The  Major  was  very  happy  to  see  them 
both. 

"Have  you  got  him  so  soon  ?  11  said  he  to 
Eric.  "Be  sure  and  hold  him  by  a  tight 
rein." 

And,  pointing  to  the  vineyard,  he  said : 
"Next  season  we  shall  have  there — so 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  says — the  first  wine. 
Have  you  ever  drunk  virgin  wine  ?  " 

Eric  answered  in  the  negative,  and  the 
Major  delighted  in  being  able  to  explain  to 
him  that  the  first  product  of  a  vineyard  was 
so  denominated. 

The  Major's  gait  was  nothing  but  a  per- 

Eetual  plunge  forward  and  a  recovery  of 
imself  again ;  every  two  ste'ps  he  stopped 
and  looked  round,  always  with  a  Imile.  He 
smiled  upon  every  one  he  met.  Why  were 
people  to  be  made  unhappy  because  he  has 


lost  his  toes  ?  Why  should  they  see  a  trou- 
bled countenance  ?  He  informed  Eric  that 
he  had  frozen  his  toes  in  the  Russian  cam- 
paign, and  had  been  obliged  to  have  them 
amputated ;  and  he  smiled  very  cheerfully, 
as  he  said :  — 

"  Yes,  truly  our  German  proverb  is  right. 
Every  one  knows  best  himself  where  the 
shoe  pinches." 

He  nodded  his  agreement  with  Eric,  who 
made  an  application  of  the  proverb  to  the 
various  relations  of  life. 

Then  he  asked  Roland  whether  his  mother 
had  yet  risen  ;  for  Frau  Ceres  made  the  no 
small  sacrifice  of  getting  up  at  nine  o'clock, 
and,  what  will  be  considered  a  not  much  in- 
ferior one,  of  completing  her  toilet  in  a  sin- 
gle hour,  and  going  with  the  family  to 
church.  She  always  made  up,  therefore, 
for  the  lost  sleep  by  going  to  bed  again  be- 
fore dinner,  and  putting  on  afterwards,  for 
the  first  time,  her  real  Sunday  apparel. 

When  they  reached  the  level  road,  the 
architect  met  them,  on  his  way  also  to  din- 
ner; he  joined  Eric,  while  Roland  went 
with  the  Major.  The  men  were  all  obliged 
to  look  at  Roland's  dogs,  before  they  assem- 
bled in  the  balcony-saloon.  They  found 
the  doctor  and  the  priest  already  with  Herr 
Sonnenkamp. 

Eric  had  scarcely  been  introduced,  when 
Frau  Ceres  appeared  in  splendid  full  dress. 

The  Major  offered  his  arm,  the  servants 
drew  back  the  folding-doors,  and  they  went 
through  several  apartments  into  the  dining- 
hall. 

The  Major  had  his  seat  at  the  left  of  Frau 
Ceres,  and  the  priest  at  her  right ;  next  to 
him  was  Fräulein  Perini,  and  then  the  phy- 
sician, Sonnenkamp,  the  architect,  Roland 
and  Eric  took  their  respective  seats. 

The  priest  said  grace  to-day  aloud.  The 
conversation  was,  at  first,  wholly  incompre- 
hensible to  Eric,  for  it  was  of  persons  and 
circumstances  that  he  knew  nothing  about. 
The  great  wine  establishment,  the  son  of 
whose  proprietor  had  bought,  with  Pranken, 
the  beautiful  horses,  was  often  mentioned. 
The  head  of  the  firm  had  realized  enormous 
profits,  at  a  sale  held  at  one  of  his  wine- 
vaults  up  the  stream.  It  was  reported  that 
he  intended  to  give  up  business  entirely, 
and  to  reside  at  the  capital,  for  the  shrewd 
old  gentleman  was  very  desirous  of  gaining 
the  consideration  and  good  will  of  the 
court. 

"I  give  him  credit,"  cried  the  doctor, 
"  of  being  infatuated  with  the  notion  of  get- 
ting ennobled." 

Herr  Sonnenkamp,  who  just  that  mo- 
ment had  put  into  his  mouth  some  fish 
cut  up  very  fine,  was  seized  with  such  a  sud- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


77 


den  and  violent  fit  of  coughing,  that  all  the 
table  were  anxious  at  seeing  him  turn  so  red 
in  the  face ;  but  he  soon  re-assured  them, 
saying  that  he  had  only  incautiously  swal- 
lowed a  fish-bone. 

The  Major  thought  it  unfitting  that  the 
great  wine-merchant  should  allow  himself 
to  stand  as  a  government-candidate  for  the 
chamber  of  deputies,  and  that,  too,  against 
such  a  man  as  Weidmann.  Eric  gave  at- 
tention when  this  name  was  now  again  men- 
tioned ;  it  was  always  as  if  an  indescribable 
train  of  honors  waited  upon  it.  But  the  doc- 
tor continued,  by  saying  that  the  Wine-count 
was  only  desirous  of  satisfying  his  ambition, 
and  his  purpose  to  make  himself  acceptable 
to  the  government,  and  that  he  would  suc- 
ceed even  if  he  knew  that  he  would  be 
beaten,  for  he  appeared  in  the  journals  as  a 
supporter  of  the  Government. 

"  Now,  Herr  priest,"  he  directly  asked, 
"  which  candidate  will  the  clergy  vote 
for  ?  " 

The  priest,  a  tall,  slender  form  with  white 
hair,  and  remarkably  bright  eyes,  which 
looked  keen  and  quiet  from  beneath  the 
massive  eye-brows,  united  both  dignity  and 
adroitness  in  his  deportment.  He  would 
have  been  very  glad  to  remain  silent,  but 
he  now  said — moving  his  left  hand,  with 
the  thumb  and  forefinger  joined  —  that 
there  was  really  no  opposition  to  be  made 
to  Weidmann^  good  qualities  as  a  citizen. 

The  doctor  was  obliged  to  put  up  with 
this  indirect  reply.  But  the  Major  extolled 
very  decidedly  the  noble  character  of  Weid- 
mann, who  was  sure  to  triumph. 

The  Major  always  spoke  with  great  diffi- 
culty, and  turned  purple  even  to  the  roots 
of  his  white  hair,  whenever  he  was  obliged 
to  address  not  his  immediate  neighbor  only, 
but  the  whole  table  as  well. 

"  You  speak  as  a  brother  Freemason,11 
said  the  physician,  giving  him  a  nod. 

The  Major  looked  grimly  at  him,  shaking 
his  head,  as  if  to  say,  One  should  not  jest 
about  such  things ;  but  he  said  nothing. 

Sonnenkamp  was  very  free  in  declaring, 
that  although  he  paid  taxes  in  this  country, 
he  should  not  vote  ;  that  he  was  cosmopoli- 
tan, and  considered  himself  and  his  family 
to  be  only  guests  in  Germany. 

Eric's  glance  and  that  of  the  doctor  met, 
and  both  looked  towards  Roland.  What 
can  be  expected  of  a  boy,  to  whom  it  is  said, 
The  State  in  which  you  live  is  of  no  account 
to  you  at  all  ? 

The  physician,  having  begun  to  make  a 
butt  of  the  Major,  kept  it  up  incessantly. 
Known  and  liked  as  a  jovial  person,  the 
physician  was,  early  in  the  day,  in  the  hila- 
rious mood  of  one  who  has  just  risen  from 


a  well-spread  table,  and  his  very  lively  tone 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  heavy  delivery 
of  the  Major,  who  very  willingly  allowed 
himself  to  be  made  the  object  of  jesting. 
It  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  man's  duty  to  min- 
ister, even  passively,  to  his  fellow-men  ;  and 
his  features  always  said,  My  children,  make 
yourselves  merry,  even  if  it  is  about  me. 

The  priest,  in  the  meanwhile,  took  the 
part  of  the  persecuted  Major,  but  it  was 
hard  to  tell  whether  it  was  not  for  the  sake 
of  keeping  up  the  raillery,  for  the  Major 
smiled  in  a  yet  more  puzzled  way  at  his  ad- 
vocate, than  at  his  assailant.  The  priest 
always  began  in  a  sort  of  narrative  way,  and 
as  he  went  on,  shot  his  well-aimed  shafts  on 
all  sides,  preserving  at  the  same  time  his 
polished  and  obliging  manners,  and  never 
losing  sight,  for  a  moment,  of  the  respect 
due  to  his  spiritual  calling ;  and  he  had,  in 
particular,  certain  tranquillizing  motions 
with  his  handsome,  delicate  hands.  The 
eyes  of  Fräulein  Perini  seemed  to  expand, 
more  and  more,  and  to  feast  in  gazing,  as 
she  looked  at  the  ecclesiastic,  and  listened 
to  him  with  her  eyes.  Only  she  could  not 
repress  her  discomfort,  when  the  priest,  af- 
ter the  fashion  of  the  snuff-taking  clergy, 
rolled  up  his  blue  linen  pocket-handker- 
chief into  a  ball,  and,  in  the  full  flow  of 
discourse,  tossed  it  from  one  hand  to  the 
other.  She  breathed  more  freely  when  he 
put  the  horrible  blue  handkerchief  into  his 
pocket. 

Fräulein  Perini  maintained  a  tranquil  im- 
perturbability towards  the  rough  and  ex- 
citable temperament  of  the  physician,  while 
he  regarded  her  as  a  sort  of  colleague  ;  and 
it  was  really  the  case,  that  she  had  some 
medical  knowledge.  He  had  a  particular 
respect  for  her,  inasmuch  as  she  had  never 
consulted  him  in  regard  to  any  ailment. 
She  lived  very  temperately,  indulged  spar- 
ingly in  the  luxurious  entertainments  and 
the  rich  daily  repast,  seemed  to  have  no 
wants,  and  devoted  herself  to  the  service, 
or  more  properly,  to  the  accommodation,  of 
others.  Doctor  Richard  took  the  liberty, 
as  a  physician  of  extensive  practice,  to  use 
but  little  ceremony,  and  was  as  much  the 
popular  as  the  pampered  despot  of  the 
whole  district,  and  especially  of  the  Son- 
nenkamp household.  He  was  talkative  at 
the  table,  eating  but  little,  and  drinking  so# 
much  the  more  to  make  up  for  it.  He 
praised  the  wines,  knew  them  all,  how  long 
they  had  been  kept,  and  when  they  were 
mellow.  He  inquired  about  an  old  brand, 
and  Sonnenkamp  ordered  it  to  be  brought ; 
the  physician  found  it  harsh,  rough,  and 
immature.  Herr  Sonnenkamp  would  often 
look  up  dubiously  to  the  physician,  before 


78 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


partaking  of  some  dish,  but  he  would  say  in 
anticipation :  — 

"  Eat,  eat,  it  won't  hurt  you." 

"  The  really  best  thing  in  the  world 
would  be  to  drink,"  Sonnenkamp  said, 
jestingly. 

"  It's  a  shame  that  you  never  knew  the 
'  precious  Borsch,1  cried  the  doctor,  "who 
once  uttered  that  illustrious  saying,  *  The 
stupidest  thing  in  the  world  is,  that  one 
can't  also  drink  what  he  eats.'"  Turning 
to  Eric,  he  continued  :  — 

"  Your  friend  Pranken  doesn't  speak  well 
of  our  Rhine-land,  but  this  ill-humor  is 
only  an  epidemic  catarrh  while  getting  ac- 
climated, which  every  one  must  catch.  I 
hope  you  will  not  be  so  long  in  getting 
over  it.  Look  at  this  bottle  of  wine,  — all 
is  corked  up  here  that  poetry,  the  scenic 
art,  and  creative  art  can  do  to  enchant  and 
enliven  us  ;  the  drinker  feels  that  he  is  not 
a  common  pack-horse,  and  though,  theoret- 
ically, he  does  not  know  what  elements  of 
the  beautiful  are  contained  in  such  a  bottle, 
he  has  no  need  to  know,  he  tastes  it ;  he 
drinks  in,  in  fact,  the  beautiful.  " 

"  Provided  there  is  no  adulteration,"  the 
architect  suggested. 

"Very  true,"  the  doctor  cried  in  a  loud 
voice  ;  "  we  used  to  have  very  few  cases  of 
delirium-tremens,  now  so  common  in  our 
district ;  and  delirium-tremens  is  not  from 
the  wine,  but  from  the  alchohol  in  it.  Do 
you  know  anything  about  wine  ?  "  he  asked, 
turning  to  Eric,  and,  as  if  actual  president, 
calling  upon  him  for  his  opinion. 

"Not  any." 

"  And  yet  you  have  probably  composed 
drinking-songs,  where  the  chorus  always 
comes  in,  '  W e  will  be  merry,  let  us  be 
merry,  we've  been  merry,1  and  after  the  first 
bottle,  the  merry  gentlemen  can't  stand  on 
their  rhimed  feet  any  longer." 

A  glance  towards  Roland  brought  the  doc- 
tor to  his  senses  ;  it  was  not  well  to  make  Eric 
a  subject  of  ridicule  in  this  way.  He  there- 
fore turned  the  conversation,  and  gave 
Eric,  whom  he  called  with  special  friendli- 
ness Herr  Colleague,  an  opportunity  to 
narrate  many  interesting  incidents  of  the 
collegiate  and  military  life.  The  Major 
nodded  approval ;  through  Eric's  conversa- 
tion he  was  left  in  •  peace,  and  could  give 
his  undisturbed  attention  to  eating  and 
drinking.  Under  the  napkin  which  he  had 
pinned  to  his  shoulders,  he  opened  his  uni- 
form. It  is  well,  he  thought,  that  Fräulein 
Milch  has  furnished  me  with  such  a  nice 
white  vest,  and  it  ought  to  be  seen.  He 
was  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the  servants, 
and  whilst  they  were  changing  the  wine,  it 
only  needed  a  wink  to  Joseph,  a  universal 


favorite,  and  he  immediately  poured  out 
some  choice  Burgundy  from  the  sparkling 
crystal  decanter  for  the  Major. 

The  Major  drank  no  more.  The  conver- 
sation had  taken  a  happy  turn,  after  Eric 
began  to  speak  of  the  Geneva  convention 
for  the  care  of  those  wounded  in  battle. 
This  was  a  good  common  point  of  union  for 
the  priest,  the  physician,  and  the  soldier, 
and,  for  a  time,  the  conversation  at  table 
was  harmonious  and  well-sustained. 

The  Major,  in  a  loud  tone,  declared  that 
men  who  did  not  like  to  have  their  names 
mentioned  were  the  original  movers  in 
this,  as  in  all  other  humane  arrangements. 
The  physician  remarked  to  Eric,  in  a  lower 
tone  than  ordinary,  that  the  Major  attrib- 
uted to  the  Freemasons  all  the  good  in  the 
world,  and  if  he  wished  to  keep  in  his 
good  graces,  he  must  never  say  anything 
against  Freemasonry. 

The  entire  table  listened  with  great  at- 
tention to  Eric,  as  he  asserted  that  we 
ought  to  be  proud  to  see  in  our  century 
such  an  arrangement  established  on  the 
ground  of  pure  humanity ;  and  the  priest 
himself  nodded  in  assent,  when  Eric  added 
that  the  Christian  religion,  in  its  self-sac- 
rificing devotion  to  the  care  of  the  sick, 
had  attained  an  elevated  position,  purer 
and  loftier  than  had  ever  before  been 
reached,  in  any  age,  and  under  any  dispen- 
sation. 

Roland  was  happy  to  see  the  gleaming 
eyes  of  all  resting  upon  Eric,  and  collected 
them  all  in  one  focus  for  him. 

They  arose  from  table,  and  a  blessing 
seemed  to  have  descended  upon  the  whole 
repast.  The  priest  engaged  in  silent 
prayer,  and  the  Major,  coming  to  Eric, 
pressed  his  hand  rather  tightly,  saying  in  a 
subdued  tone :  — 

"  You  are  one  already,  you  must  learn 
the  signs." 

Eric  was  so  excited,  that  he  hardly  heard 
what  the  old  man  said,  although  he  ex- 
pressed his  highest  possible  esteem  in  this 
readiness  to  accept  him  as  a  Freemason. 

"See,"  cried  the  doctor,  impudently, 
"  see  how  much  whiter  the  hair  of  our 
Major  has  turned." 

And  it  actually  seemed  so,  for  the  face 
of  the  Major  was  so  permanently  red,  that 
its  color  seemed  incapable  of  being  deep- 
ened, and  now  from  the  excitement  of  the 
conversation  and  the  wine,  the  whiteness 
of  the  hair  was  in  reality  discerned  with 
greater  distinctness. 

"  The  Major's  hair  has  become  whiter," 
everybody  now  said,  and  the  bewildered 
smile,  that  was  always  round  his  mouth, 
exploded  in  a  loud  laugh. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


79 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  WORLD  OUTSIDE. 

The  doctor  was  informed,  immediately 
after  dinner,  that  many  patients  were  wait- 
ing for  him,  for  it  was  generally  known 
that  he  dined  on  Sunday  here  at  the  villa. 
He  hastily  took  a  cigar  from  Sonnenkamp, 
and  said  that  Eric  must  accompany  him, 
as  he  wished  to  speak  with  him.  He  said 
this  in  a  positive  manner  admitting  of  no 
refusal. 

After  they  had  turned  the  corner,  the 
physician  extended  his  hand  to  Eric,  say- 
ing in  a  hearty  tone, — 

"  I  am  the  scholar  of  your  grandfather,  and 
I  also  knew  your  father  at  the  University.'1 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it ;  but  why  did 
you  not  tell  me  that  at  once  ?  " 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  awhile  from 
head  to  foot,  then  he  laid  both  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  and  shaking  his  head,  but  in  a 
cordial  tone,  said, — 

"  I  have  been  mistaken  in  you.  I  thought 
that  the  species  idealist  had  died  out ;  you 
are  doctor  of  world-wisdom,  but  not  doc- 
tor of  worldly  wisdom.  Dear  captain-doc- 
tor, what's  the  need  of  their  knowing  yon- 
der how  you  and  I  stand  with  each  other  ? 
—  So  you  wish  to  live  with  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"The  man  can't  weep  if  he  would,  and 
you  —  ?  "  . 

"Well,  and  I?" 

"With  you  the  tear-sack  is  filled  at  every 
emotion,  as  when  you  spoke  there  of  your 
father,  and  of  the  noble  care  of  the  sick  — 
you  have  a  talent  for  hypochondria." 

Eric  was  struck.  This  style  of  personal 
criticism  was  novel  to  him,  but  before  he 
could  reply,  the  doctor  called  to  the  wait- 
ing group  of  patients  standing  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  porter's  lodge, — 

"  I  am  coming  in  a  moment !  Wait  here 
for  me,  and  I'll  come  back  soon,"  he  said 
now  to  Eric,  and  went  up  to  the  group, 
all  of  whom  took  off  their  hats  and  caps. 
He  spoke  with  one  and  another,  taking  out 
ä  blank  book  with  loose  leaves,  and  writ- 
ing several  prescriptions,  with  the  back  of 
a  broad-shouldered  man  for  a  desk,  and 
giving  to  others  only  verbal  directions. 

Eric  stood  in  a  fixed  attitude,  and  he 
realized  that  he  was  wanting  in  worldly 
wisdom,  but  a  deep  feeling  of  happiness 
took  possession  of  him,  that  his  grandfa- 
ther and  father  sent  him  here  a  friend.  An 
unknown  and  inestimable  inheritance  was 
awaiting  him  in  all  places,  like  a  harvest 
gathering  in  from  all  quarters  ;  he  regarded 


the  family  and  its  rich  possessions  with  a 
different  feeling ;  he  was  no  longer  poor. 

The  physician,  coming  back,  said  with  a 
more  cheerful  countenance, — 

"  I  am  now  free.  Count  Clodwig  has 
told  me  about  you,  but  he  has  given  me  a 
wrong  impression  of  you.  Never  mind! 
Every  one  sees,  standing  in  the  centre  of  his 
own  horizon,  his  own  rainbow.  I  wished 
only  to  say  to  you,  that  what  one  —  pardon 
me  —  what  one  does  for  you,  is  hardly  the 
payment  of  interest,  for  no  human  being  has 
done  more  for  others  than  your  grandfather 
and  your  father.  Now  allow  yourself  for 
once  to  undergo  a  regular  examination.  I 
saw  you  years  ago,  when  you  were  coupled 
with  the  prince." 

The  doctor  receded  a  step  from  Eric, 
and  continued, — 

"The  crossing  of  races  is  a  good  one. 
Father,  Huguenot,  —  Mother,  pure  German, 
real  blond,  delicate  organization, — proper 
mixture  of  nationalities.  Come  with  me 
into  the  arbor.  Will  you  allow  me  a  brief 
and  concise  diagnosis  ?  " 

Eric  smiled ;  the  physician's  method  of 
passing  him  under  review  and  pronouncing 
verdict  upon  him  seemed  extremely  odd, 
but  yet  he  felt  attracted. 

Striking  off  on  a  twig  the  ashes  from  his 
cigar,  the  doctor  asked, — 

"Can  you  have  intercourse  with  any 
one  day  by  day,  and  not  like  him,  or  at 
least  have  some  regard  for  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  tried  it,  but  I  think  not ; 
and  such  an  intercourse  assuredly  hurts  the 
soul." 

"I  expected  this  answer.  For  my  part, 
I  say  with  Lessing,  It  is  better  to  live 
among  bad  people,  than  to  live  apart  from 
everybody.  May  I  ask  still  another  ques- 
tion?" 

But  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  con- 
tinued,— 

"Have  you  ever  experienced  ingrati- 
tude?" 

"  I  think  that  I  have,  as  yet,  done  noth- 
ing which  deserves  gratitude.  Especially 
may  we  ask,  Ought  we  to  lay  claim  to  any 
thanks,  inasmuch  as  what  we  do  in  behalf 
of  others,  we  do,  first  of  all,  to  secure  our 
own  self-approval." 

"  Good,  good.  Wise  already.  Yet  one 
thing  more.  Do  you  believe  in  natural 
depravity,  and  if  you  do,  since  when?" 

"  If  by  depravity  you  mean  the  conscious 
delight  in  injuring  others,  then  I  am  no 
believer  in  it,  for  I  am  convinced  that  all 
evil  doing  is  only  a  stepping  over  the  limits 
of  a  justifiable  self-preservation  ;  it  is  only 
an  excess  caused  by  sophistry  or  passion. 


80 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Perhaps  the  belief  in  depravity  is  also 
merely  passion." 

The  doctor  nodded  several  times,  and 
then  said, — 

"  Only  one  question  more.  Are  you  sen- 
sitive — vulnerable  ? 11 

"  I  might  perhaps  urge  your  friendly 
testing  as  a  proof  that  I  am  not." 

The  doctor  threw  away  the  cigar,  which 
he  had  not  wholly  smoked  up,  and  said, — 

"  Excuse  me,  I  was  in  an  error;  my  final 
question  has  another  at  the  end  of  it.  Now 
to  conclude :  Are  you  surprised,  when  you 
find  simply  stupid  some  little  man  or  some 
little  woman  in  fashionable  clothes,  and 
with  polished  address,  and  are  you.  willing 
to  take  them  as  simply  stupid,  without  at- 
tributing to  them  principles  of  action,  and 
a  comprehension  of  the  principles  of  oth- 
ers ?  " 

In  spite  of  the  evidently  friendly  inten- 
tion, Eric's  patience  was  exhausted ;  he  re- 
plied to  this,  not  without  some  irritation, 
that  he  had  been  through  a  great  many  sur- 
prising examinations  here,  but  the  present 
was  the  most  surprising  of  all.  . 

**  You  will  perhaps  have  some  light  upon 
it,  by  and  by,11  the  physician  said  in  a  low 
tone,  stealthily  pressing  Eric's  hand,  for  he 
saw  Fräulein  Perini  coming  along  the  path, 
and  he  went  to  join  her. 

The  company  at  table  met  again  at  the 
fountain,  chatted  awhile,  and  then  sepa- 
rated. -  The  priest  and  the  Major  invited 
Eric  to  call  upon  them ;  the  physician  asked 
Sonnenkamp  if  Eric  and  Roland  might  not 
be  allowed  to  drive  with  him  upon  his  round 
of  visits.  Sonnenkamp  appeared  struck 
that  Roland  and  Eric  were  linked  together 
in  this  way,  but  he  nodded  his  assent. 
Eric  and  the  doctor  seated  themselves  in 
the  open  carriage,  and  Roland  took  his  seat 
with  the  coachman,  who  g^ve  him  the  reins. 

The  day  was  bright  and  full  of  the  fra- 
grance of  flowers,  bells  were  ringing,  and 
larks  were  carolling. 

They  drove  to  a  village  lying  at  a  distance 
from  the  river.  From  a  garden  where  the 
cider  was  in  bloom  came  the  beautiful  music 
of  a  quartette  song,  and  under  a  linden  in 
an  enclosed  place,  boys  and  youths  were 
engaged  in  gymnastic  sports. 

"O  this  magnificent  German  land  of 
ours ! "  Eric  could  not  refrain  from  ex- 
claiming. "  This  is  life  !  Th!s  is  our  life  ! 
To  cheer  the  soul  with  inspiring  song,  and 
the  body  with  brisk  motion, —  this  makes  a 
people  strong  and  noble,  and  honor  and 
freedom  must  be  theirs  !  All  that  is  great 
belongs  to  us,  as  well  as  to  the  classic 
world.1' 

The  doctor,  laying  his  hand  quietly  upon 


Eric's  knee,  looked  him  full  in  the  eye,  and 
then  begged  him,  if  he  remained  here,  to 
make  himself  thoroughly  acquainted  through 
him  with  the  Rhine  life,  and  not  allow  him- 
self to  be  misled,  if  he  should  find  much 
that  was  repulsive  both  inside  and  outside 
of  the  house.  "And  if  you  can  —  I  believe 
you  alone  can,  if  you  can't,  I  give  it  up  — 
confer  upon  the  boy  there,  not  merely  joy  in 
what  he  has,  but  joy  in  the  great  life  of  the 
nation  and  of  the  community,  which  now  he 
has  not,  then  you  will  have  accomplished 
something  that  is  worth  living  for.  But  the 
main  point  is,  while  you  are  doing  this,  to 
have  no  thought  of  self,  and  then  the  bless- 
ing will  not  fail.  This  is  what  I  understand 
by  the  direction,  *  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom 
of  God  —  that  is,  the  life  of  truth  and  of 
love  —  and  all  things  shall  be  added  unto 
you.'  Roland,"  he  interrupted  himself  by 
calling,  "  stop  here."  ' 

The  doctor  got  out,,  and  went  into  a 
small  but  neat-looking  house ;  Eric  and 
Roland  went  to  the  gymnastic-grounds. 
They  were  regarded  at  first  with  great  shy- 
ness ;  but  when  Eric  readily  showed  a  fine- 
looking  youth,  who  went  through  some  ex- 
ercise clumsily,  how  to  do  it  better,  and 
when,  stripping  off  his  coat,  he  swung  with 
agility  on  the  horizontal  bar,  every  one  be- 
came more  familiar.  Roland  also  attempted 
some  of  the  exercises,  without  much  suc- 
cess, and  Eric  said  that  they  would  practise 
them  diligently,  but  it  was  unfavorable  that 
they  would  be  obliged  to  engage  in  them 
by  themselves,  for  there  was  much  greater 
animation  and  exertion  of  all  the  powers, 
when  there  was  a  common  emulation. 

A  messenger  came  to  call  Eric  and  Ro- 
land back  to  the  house  where  the  doctor 
had  stopped.  Just  as  the  physician  came 
out  of  the  house,  the  church-bell  tolled ;  all 
the  bystanders  took  off  their  hats,  even  the 
doctor,  and  he  said,  — 

"A  human  being  is  dead;  the  man  has 
lived  out  the  term  of  existence ;  he  was 
seventy-two  years  old,  and  yet  yesterday, 
on  his  death-bed,  he  gained  comfort  in  the 
recollection  of  a  little  deed  of  beneficence. 
In  the  year  of  the  famine,  1817,  he  was 
travelling  as  a  journeyman  cooper  over  the 
Lunenburg  heath  —  he  continually  called  it 
the  Hamburg  heath  —  where  there  was  no 
road;  and  after  several  hours  he  came 
across  a  wretched  hovel,  in  which  were  sev- 
eral children  crying  from  hunger.  The 
cooper  had  some  dried  eels,  and  some  bread 
in  a  tin  box.  He  gave  all  to  feed  the  chil- 
dren, and  they  were  happy.  4  Mark,'  he 
said  to  me  only  yesterday,  —  4  mark  how  it 
does  me  good,  and  always  rejoices  me,  that 
I  could  at  that  time  feed  the  children,  and 


\ 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 

perhaps  they  never  have  forgotten  it,  that 
once  a  stranger  appeased  their  hunger.'  Is 
it  not  beautiful  that  a  man  can  gain  solace 
from  a  single  good  deed  ?  He  has  suffered 
much,  and  death  is  a  release  to  him.  Yes, 
my  young  friend,  such  is  the  world  !  There 
outside  all  is  in  bloom,  people  are  singing, 
exercising,  sporting,  and  in  the  meanwhile, 
a  human  being  is  dying  —  pooh!1'  he* 
cried,  recovering  himself,  "I  have  not 
brought  you  with  me  to  make  you  troubled, 
Roland ;  drive  the  whole  length  of  the  vil- 
lage to  the  last  house."  And  turning  to 
Eric,  he  said,  — 

"  We  are  going  to  see  cheerful  poverty  ; 
you  are  now  to  look  upon  the  bright  eide. 
The  man  is  a  poor  vine-dresser ;  has  seven 
children,  four  sons  and  three  daughters, 
and  in  their  poverty  they  are  the  merriest 
people  to  be  found  anywhere,  and  the  mer- 
riest of  all  is  the  old  father.  His  real  name 
is  Piper;  but  because  he  sings  with  his 
children  and  practises  them  finely  as  often 
as  he  can  get  a  chance,  he  is  called  Seven- 
piper.11 

They  drove  to  the  house ;  the  daughters 
were  sitting  before  the  door,  the  sons  were 
at  the  gymnastic-ground.  Sevenpiper  im- 
mediately made  his  appearance,  and  said 
that  his  sons  should  be  sent  for.  The  doc- 
tor then  asked  how  things  were  going  with 
him. 

"  Ah,  Herr  doctor,"  he  replied,  in  a  loud 
tone,  "  it  is  always  so  ;  my  youngest  always 
has  the  bes"t  voice.11  And  turning  to  Ro- 
land, he  added,  — 

"Yes,  dear  sir,  I  make  my  children  rich 
too ;  each  one  receives  from  one  to  two 
hundred  songs  as  an  outfit,  and  if  they  can't 
make  their  way  through  the  world  with  that, 
then  they  are  good  for  nothing.11 

The  sons  came,  and  now  a  cheerful  song 
was  struck  up,  so  that  the  doctor  and  Ro- 
land were  put  into  excellent  spirits,  and 
Eric,  who  quickly  caught  the  tune,  sang 
with  them. 

The  old  man  nodded  to  him,  and  when 
the  song  was  ended,  said,  — 

"  Herr,  you  can  sing  too,  that's  a  fact." 

The  doctor  always  carried  a  bottle-case 
in  his  carriage,  and  drawing  upon  it  now, 
every  one  became  exceedingly  merry ;  and 
Sevenpiper  informed  them,  and  more  par- 
ticularly Roland,  that  the  best  thing  in  the 
world  was  to  be  in  good  health,  and  make 
music  for  one's  self. 

The  physician  took  leave,  and  at  evening, 
Roland  and  Eric,  in  a  joyous  mood,  left  the 
house.  Sevenpiper's  two  oldest  sons  went 
with  them  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  where 
they  unfastened  the  boat,  and  rowed  to  the 
villa. 


3E  ON  THE  RHINE.  81 

The  water  was  now  very  still  and  clear, 
and  reflected  the  red  glow  of  the  sunset- 
sky.  Eric  sat  by  himself  in  silence,  during 
one  of  those  blissful  hours  when  one  thinks 
of  nothing,  and  yet  enjoys  all.  Roland 
kept  time  in  rowing  with  the  sons  of  Seven- 
piper; then,  without  stroke  of  the  oar, 
they  let  the  boat  float'  and  it  glided  noise- 
lessly along  in  the  middle  of  the  stream. 

The  stars  were  glittering  in  the  sky  when 
they  arrived  at  the  villa. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  GOSPEL  OF  THE  RICH  YOUNG  MAN. 

The  architect  came  in  the  morning  for 
Roland,  who  was  to  make,  under  his  direc- 
tion, some  drawings  of  the  castle-ruins. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  reminded  Eric  that  he 
was  to  visit  the  priest,  and  he  set  out  soon 
after  he  had  seen  Fräulein  Perini  return 
from  mass.  The  priest's  house  had  a  gar- 
den in  front,"  and  was  in  silent  seclusion  in 
the  village  itself  silent.  If  the  bell  had  not 
rung  so  loudly,  and  if  the  two  white  Pom- 
eranian dogs  had  not  barked  so  loudly,  one 
would  have  believed  that  there  could  be  no 
loud  noise  in  such  a  well-arranged  estab- 
lishment as  this  appeared  to  be  at  the  very 
entrance-hall.  The  dogs  were  silenced, 
and  the  housekeeper  told  Eric,  who  seemed 
to  be  expected,  to  go  up  stairs. 

Eric  found  the  ecclesiastic  in  his  sunny, 
unadorned  room,  sitting  at  the  table,  and 
holding  in  his  left  hand  a  book,  while  his 
right  lay  upon  a  terrestrial  globe  supported 
upon  a  low  pedestal. 

"You  catch  me  in  the  wide  world,"  said 
the  ecclesiastic,  giving  Eric  a  cordial  wel- 
come, and  biding  him  take  a  seat  upon  the 
sofa,  over  which  hung  a  colored  print,  of 
St.  Borromeo,  which  was  well-meaning 
enough,  but  not  very  beautiful. 

A  home-like  peacefulness  was  in  this 
room ;  everything  seemed  to  express  an  ab- 
sence of  all  pretension  and  all  assumption, 
and  a  simple  desire  to  pass  the  hours  and 
the  days  in  quiet  meditation.  Two  canary 
birds,  here,  however,  in  two  cages,  appeared 
to  entertain  a  lively  desire,  as  did  the  dogs 
below,  to  give  vent  to  their  feelings.  The 
ecclesiastic  called  to  them  to  be  quiet,  and 
they  became  dumb,  as  if  by  magic,  and  only 
looked  inquisitively  at  Eric. 

The  priest  informed  him  that  he  was  just 
following  out  on  the  globe  the  journey  of  a 
missionary  ;  and  he  caused  the  globe  to  re- 
volve, while  saying  this,  with  his  delicate 
right  hand. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  not  friendly  to  the  mis- 
sionary spirit  ?  "  he  asked  immediately. 

"  I  consider  it,"  Eric  replied,  "  to  be  the 


82 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


first  step  in  the  world's  civilization,  and  it 
is  a  grand  thing  that  the  missionaries  have 
everywhere  spread  a  knowledge  of  written 
language,  through  translations  of  a  book 
revered  as  holy,  and  in  that  way  have  re- 
duced to  an  organic  form,  as  it  were,  the 
inorganic  languages  of  all  peoples. 

The  priest  closed  the  book  that  lay  open 
before  him,  folded  his  hands  in  a  kind  of 
patronising  way,  that  seemed  natural  to  him 
as  the  official  form  of  consecration,  and 
then  placing  the  tips  of  the  fingers  of  one 
hand  upon  those  of  the  other,  he  said  that 
he  had  heard  of  Eric  many  favourable 
things,  and  that,  from  his  own  experience, 
he  was  prepossessed  in  favor  of  those  who 
changed  their  calling  out  of  some  internal 
ground  of  conviction.  To  be  sure,  fickle- 
ness and  restlessness,  never  at  ease  in  any 
regular  employment,  often  led  to  this,  but 
where  this  Avas  not  the  case,  one  could  pred- 
icate a  deep  fundamental  trait  of  sincerity. 

Eric  thanked  him,  and  added  that  the 
dignity  of  any  vocation  lay  not  in  the  ex- 
ternal consideration  awarded  to  it,  but  in 
the  preservation  of  the  purely  human  inher- 
ent in  every  calling. 

"  Very  just,11  replied  the  ecclesiastic,  ex- 
tending one  hand,  as  if  with  a  benignant 
blessing.  "The  ecclesiastical  vocation  is 
therefore  the  highest,  because  it  does  not 
strive  after  gain,  nor  enjoyment,  nor  fame, 
but  after  that  which  you  —  I  know  not  for 
what  reason  —  call  the  universally  human, 
when  it  ought  simply  to  be  called  the 
divine.11 

A  certain  degree  of  humility,  and  a  re- 
luctance to  make  any  opposition,  came  over 
Eric,  as  he  listened  to  the  ecclesiastic  set- 
ting forth  in  such  mildly  discordant  tones 
the  precise  point  of  difference.  It  seemed, 
after  every  word,  as  if  the  sacred  peaceful- 
ness  of  the  place  gained  fresh  potency ; 
nothing  of  the  world's  noise  intruded  there, 
and  all  its  busting  activity  was  far  away. 

The  park,  and  the  country-house  in  the 
distance  over  the  river,  could  be  seen  from 
the  window ;  the  ecclesiastic  took  special 
notice  of  Eri^s  lively  interest  in  the  beauti- 
ful, quiet  view,  and  remarked, — 

"  Yes,  Herr  Sonnenkamp  has  arranged 
all  that  for  himself,  but  the  beauty  is  also 
our  gain.  I  really  never  go  out  of  my 
house,  except  for  some  parochial  work." 

"  And*  do  you  never  feel  yourself  solitary 
here  in  the  country  ?  " 

"Oh  no!  I  have  myself,  and  my  Lord, 
and  God  has  me.  And  the  world?  I  had 
in  the  great  city,  even,  nothing  different  — 
my  parish,  my  church,  my  house  —  what, 
besides  these,  is  there,  is  not  there  for  me." 

A  reminiscence  of  his  early  youthful 


years  was  awakened  in  Eric's  soul,  and  he 
told  the  priest  that  the  thought  had  often 
presented  itself  to  him,  in  the  midst  of  his 
jolly  garrison  life,  that  he  had  a  fitness  for 
the  ecclesiastical  vocation,  but  that  he  could 
not  devote  himself  to  it  without  a  belief  in 
revelation. 

"Yes,  indeed,  one  cannot  make  himself 
believe,  but  one  can  make  himself  humble, 
and  every  one  can  and  ought  to  do  that, 
and  then  the  grace  of  believing  is  vouch- 
safed.1' 

The  ecclesiastic  announced  this  as  if  it 
were  sa.  mathematical  axiom,  and  Eric  re- 
plied in  a  modest  tone, — 

"Every  man  acquires  a  ground-work  of 
thought  and  feeling,  just  as  he  does  his  mo- 
ther tongue,  by  hearing  it  spoken;  and 
might  it  not  be  said  also,  that  his  soul  ac- 
quires a  language  which  has  no  outward 
sound,  but  which  becomes  embodied  as  a 
religious  disposition  and  habitual  tendency, 
and  which,  if  it  is  genuine,  cannot  be  inter- 
fered with,  for,  in  this  primitive  stratum, 
root  and  soil  are  one  and  the  same.11 

"  You  have  studied  the  Mystics  ?  "  asked 
the  ecclesiastic. 

"Only  partially.  I  should  like  to  say 
further,  that  all  fair  controversialists  are 
obliged  to  agree  upon  something  as  unas- 
sailable, or  undemonstrable." 

That  holy  stillness  again  possessed  the 
place,  where  two  human  beings  were 
breathing,  who  desired  each  in  his  own  way 
to  serve  the  highest. 

"  You  are  at  the  age,11  the  priest  resumed, 
"  when  young  gentlemen  think  of  marriage, 
and  as  is  the  prevailing  fashion,  marriage  with 
a  maiden  who  has  money.  —  a  great  deal  of 
money.  You  appear  so  true-hearted,  that  I 
must  ask  you  directly,  although  I  would 
much  rather  not,  if  it  is  true  that  you  are  a 
suitor  of  Fräulein  Sonnenkamp  ?  11 

"  I?  11  Eric  asked  with  vehement  astonish- 
ment. "I?11 

"  Yes,  you.11 

"I  thank  you,11  Eric  said  in  a  clear  voice, 
recovering  from  his  amazement,  "  I  thank 
you,  that  you  question  me  so  directly.  You 
know  I  am  not  of  your  church.1' 

"And  Fraulein  Sonnenkamp  is  of  our 
church,  and  it  would  be  hard  —  " 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  that,"  Eric  said, 
interrupting  him.  "Wonderful,  through 
what  tests  I  must  pass  !  First  a  supercili- 
ous cavalier,  then  a  nobleman,  then  a  mili- 
tary officer,  then  a  doctor,  and  now  in  the 
priestly  sieve.11 

"  I  do  not  understand  you."- 

"Ah,  truly,"  began  Eric,  "and  I  tell 
you,  I  confess  to  your  noble,  mild  counte- 
nance, and  so  I  acknowledge  to  you,  seeing 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


83 


you  before  me,  that  I  admire  the  undisturbed 
unity  of  your  beinoj  from  which  comes  the 
Catholic  law  of  celibacy  as  a  dogma,  and  I 
allow  myself  to  claim  that  we  have  reached 
the  same  ideal  stand-point.  Yes,  honored 
sir,  I  say  to  myself,  he  who  wishes  to  live 
for  a  great  idea,  whether  he  is  artist,  schol- 
ar, priest,  he  can  need  no  family,  he  must 
renounce  its  joys,  apart  by  himself  with- 
out any  hinderance,  that  he  may  fulfil  his 
mission  in  the  perpetual  service  of  thought.11 

"  Divisus  est!  divisus  est!"  repeated 
the  ecclesiastic.  The  holy  apostle  says  that 
he  who  has  a  wife  is  divided,  and  he  will 
be  yet  more  divided,  whilst  the  lot  of  his 
children  becomes  his  own.  The  ecclesiastic 
has  no  changes  of  lot." 

A  smile  passed  over  the  countenance  of 
the  priest,  as  he  continued :  — 

"  Only  imagine  a  priest  married  to  a 
quarrelsome  wife  —  there  are  also  peaceable 
women,  gentle  and  self-sacrificing,  and  it  is 
certain  that  there  are  quarrelsome  ones  too 
—  and  now  the  priest  is  to  mount  the  pulpit 
in  order  to  proclaim  the  word  of  peace  and 
love,  when  an  hour  before  in  dispute  and 
scolding  —  " 

The  ecclesiastic  suddenly  ceased,  placed 
the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand  on  his  lips, 
and  bethought  himself,  that  he  was  wander- 
ing from  the  real  point.  Did  not  Fräulein 
Perini  inform  him  that  Eric  had  visited  the 
convent  before  he  came  to  this  place  ? 
He  looked  at  Eric,  who  had  led  him  from 
the  direct  inquiry,  wondering  whether  he 
had  done  it  from  prudence,  or  whether  it 
was  really  from  excitement.  He  hoped,  in- 
deed, to  attain  his  end  in  some  different 
way ;  and,  apparently  in  a  very  natural 
manner,  but  yet  with  a  lurking  circumspec- 
tion, he  now  asked  whether  Eric  really  felt 
confident,  from  his  position,  of  being  able 
to  train  a  boy  like  Roland. 

When  Eric  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
the  ecclesiastic  further  asked  :  — 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  to  give  him  first, 
and  in  preference  to  everything  else  ?  11 

"To  sum  it  up  in  few  words,"  replied  Eric, 
11  I  wish  to  give  Roland  joy  in  the  world. 
If  he  has  this,  he  will  furnish  joy  to  the 
world  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  will  desire  to  benefit 
it ;  if  I  teach  him  to  despise  the  world,  to  un- 
dervalue life,  he  will  come  to  misuse  the 
world  and  the  powers  entrusted  to  him  in 
it.11 

"  I  regret,"  said  the  priest  in  a  gentle 
tone,  "that  you  are  not  a  believer;  you 
are  on  the  way  to  salvation,  but  you  turn 
aside  into  a  by-path.  Do  you  know  what 
riches  are  ?  I  will  tell  you.  Riches  are  a 
great  temptation,  yes,  perhaps  the  greatest 
of  our  time ;  riches  are  a  force  in  nature, 


perhaps  the  most  lawless,  most  untamable, 
and  the  hardest  to  be  governed.  Riches 
are  a  brutal  power,  for  which  there  is  no 
ruler,  except  the  Almighty  Lord ;  riches  are 
below  the  brute,  for  no  brute  has  any  more 
force  than  it  embodies  in  itself.  Man  alone 
can  be  rich,  can  have  what  he  is  not  himself, 
I  and  what  his  children  cannot  consume. 
Here  is  the  misery  of  it !  Whoever  gains 
so  much  of  the  world  hurts  his  own  soul.  I 
have  tried  to  bring  this  family  and  this  boy 
to  this,  that  they  should  at  least  make  the 
acknowledgment,  before  every  meal,  that 
what  they  enjoy  in  such  luxurious  abundance 
is  only  a  gift.  Do  you  believe  that  this  boy, 
conscious  of  his  riches,  and  this  whole  fam- 
ily, can  receive  a  moral  culture  except 
through  religion?  A  prayer  before  one  sits 
down  to  eat  is  a  meditation,  a  recollection 
of  the  fact  that  thou  hast  some  one  to  thank 
for  what  thou  dost  enjoy.  This  takes  out 
the  vainglorious  pride,  and  gives  humility 
instead,  and  makes  one  give,  even  as  he  him- 
self has  been  given  to.  Only  where  the 
fear  of  God  is,  yes,  fear,  is  there  also  the 
blissful  feeling  of  His  Almighty  protection. 
On  the  table  of  this  rich  man  there  is 
placed,  every  day,  a  display  of  sweet-smell- 
ing, bright-colored  flowers, —  what  does  that 
matter  ?  On  the  poorest  table  of  the  needi- 
est cottager  is  placed  a  bouquet  more  beauti- 
ful and  more  fragrant,  from  the  higher  realm, 
through  the  utterances  of  prayer;  and  the 
soul  is  filled,  and  this  first  makes  the  filling 
of  the  body  conduce  to  its  health.  But  this 
is  only  one  thing.  Above  there,  on  the  Up- 
per Rhine,  they  call  personal  property 
movables,  and  so  it  is  !  The  riches  of  the 
present  world  are  nothing  but  movables, 
moving  possessions,  and  they  will  move 
away.  Believe  me,"  cried  the  ecclesiastic, 
laying  his  hand  upon  Eric's,  "believe  me, 
the  public  funds  are  the  misfortune  of  the 
present  age." 

' '  The  public  funds  ?  I  do  not  under- 
stand." 

"  Yes,  it  is  indeed  not  so  easy  to  under- 
stand. Of  whom  can  one  borrow  millions  ? 
of  no  one  but  the  State.  If  there  were  no 
public  funds,  there  would  be  no  one  to  lend 
such  great  sums;  that's  the  way  it  is. 
Formerly,  a  man  could  not  acquire  so  many 
millions,  because  he  could  not  lay  out  so 
many  millions  ;  but  now  there  are  the  pub- 
lic funds,  and  everybody  lives  on  interest- 
money,  and  interest  is  very  properly  forbid- 
den by  the  canons.  See,  in  old  times  the 
rich  man  had  a  great  deal  of  real  estate, 
many  fields  and  forests,  and  he  was  first  of 
all  dependent  upon  God's  blessed  sun,  and 
when  everything  in  good  time  had  ripened, 
and  lay  there  in  the  sight  of  all,  then  he 


84 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


gave  a  tenth  part  to  the  church.  But  now 
the  riches  are  tucked  away  in  fire-proof, 
burglar-proof  safes,  not  dependent  on  sun, 
not  on  wind  and  weather,  are  not  visible  to 
the  world,  and  have  no  tenth  of  the  profit 
to  give, —  at  the  most  a  trifling  discount  on 
the  coupons  to  the  banker ;  the  harvest  of 
the  bond-holder  is  the  cutting  off  of  coupons  ; 
these  are  the  sheaves  of  his  harvest-home. 
If  the  Lord  should  come  to-day,  he  would 
find  no  temple  from  which  to  drive  out  the 
money-changers  and  traders,  they  have 
erected  for  themselves  their  own  temples. 
Yes,  the  stronghold  of  Zion,  to-day,  to 
which  princes,  as  well  as  rich  men,  make 
their  pilgrimage  and  commit  themselves  to 
its  protection, —  it  is  the  Bank  of  England  ! 
Have  you  ever  once  thought  of  this,  what 
is  to  become  of  humanity,  what  of  States,  if 
this  increase  of  state-debts  continues  to  go 
on  in  this  way?  of  course  not.  The  whole 
earth  will  be  one  tremendous  mortgage, 
and  mortgaged  to  whom  ?  to  him  who  lends 
on  long  credit,  but  who  will,  some  time  or 
other,  demand  payment.  A  universal  con- 
flagration will  come,  against  which  no  fire- 
proof vaults  will  avail,  and  a  deluge,  which 
will  wipe  out  the  millions  and  millions  upon 
millions  of  State  debts.  I  am  not  a  man 
who  delights  in  seeing  mischief  done,  but 
this  I  would  say, —  I  should  like  to  live  to 
see  the  Bank  of  England  bankrupt.  Only 
imagine  it !  At  night  the  news  comes,  It  is 
all  gone.  Then  will  thousands  of  small 
men  -and  small  women  see,  for  the  first 
time,  how  small  they  are,  when  they  see 
themselves  at  once  stripped  of  all  their  trap- 
pings, and  set  down  upon  the  bare  earth." 

Eric  smiled.  Every  man  placed  in  soli- 
tude, without  an  environment  of  equalizing 
conditions,  eritertains  readily  peculiar  no- 
tions that  dart  through  his  mind ;  and  he 
said  that  the  earth  would  be  burdened  with 
greater  debts  than  it  could  pay,  if  it  could 
only  find  those  who  would  advance  the  i 
money.  But  the  real  possession  of  human-  j 
ity  was  of  more  value  than  the  whole  earth 
could  pay  for,  as  its  greatest  possession  was 
its  ideal  being,  its  power  of  working ;  and 
while,  formerly,  all  property  was  in  the  soil, 
it  was  just  the  problem  of  the  modern  age  to 
make  available  ideal  and  personal  property. 
He  wished  further  to  add,  that  even  among 
the  Romans  in  the  time  of  the  Republic  it- 
self, the  wealth  of  individuals  was  thus 
enormously  excessive ;  but  the  ecclesiastic, 
in  his  great  excitement,  seemed  scarcely  lis- 
tening to  him,  went  to  his  book-case,  took 
down  a  great  Bible,  and  opening  to  a  pas- 
sage, handed  the  book  to  Eric. 

"There,  just  read;   that   is   the  only 


way  that  Roland  can  be  educated.  Read 
aloud." 

Eric  complied,  and  read :  — 

"  And  when  he  was  gone  forth  into  the 
way,  there  came  one  running,  and  kneeled 
to  him  and  asked  him,  Good  Master,  what 
shall  I  do  that  I  may  inherit  eternal  life  ? 
And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Why  callest  thou 
me  good?  there  is  none  good  but  one, 
that  is  God.  Thou  knowest  the  command- 
ments, —  Do  not  commit  adultery,  Do  not 
kill,  Do  not  steal,  Do  not  bear  false  wit- 
ness, Defraud  not,  Honor  thy  father  and 
mother.  And  he  answered  and  said  unto 
him,  Master,  all  these  things  have  I  ob- 
served from  my  youth.  Then  Jesus  be- 
holding him  loved  him,  and  said  unto  him. 
One  thing  thou  laekest ;  go  thy  way,  sell 
whatsoever  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor, 
and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven ; 
and  come,  take  up  the  cross,  and  follow  me. 
And  he  was  sad  at  that  saying,  and  went 
away  grieved ;  for  he  had  great  possessions. 
And  Jesus  looked  round  about,  and  saith 
unto  his  disciples,  How  hardly  shall  they 
that  have  riches  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God !  And  the  disciples  were  astonished 
at  his  words.  But  Jesus  answereth  again, 
and  saith  unto  them,  Children,  how  hard  is 
it  for  them  that  trust  in  riches  to  enter  into 
the  kingdom  of  God !  It  is  easier  for  a 
camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle, 
than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  the  kingdom 
of  God ! " 

M  And  now  stand  up  and  tell  me,"  said 
the  priest,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "tell  me 
honestly,  is  not  that  the  one  and  only 
method  ?  " 

"Honestly,  no:  I  love  and  revere  him 
of  whom  this  is  told,  perhaps  more  than 
many  a  church-believer,  and  it  is  partic- 
ularly affecting  to  me,  and  at  this  moment 
wonderfully  touching  is  that  passage,  where 
it  is  said  here, —  Then  Jesus  beholding  him 
loved  him.  I  see  the  handsome  rich  young 
man  in  the  presence  of  the  sublime  Master  ; 
the  young  man  is  glowing  and  filled  with  a 
genuine  ardor;  then  the  Master  dearly 
loves  him  as  he  looks  into  his  countenance. 
However  —  " 

"That  is  incidental,  that  is  incidental. 
Speak  to  the  main  subject,"  the  priest  in- 
terrupted. 

"According  to  my  view  of  the  subject," 
Eric  replied,  "I  must  own  that  I  consider 
this  teaching  to  have  been  given  at  a  time 
when  all  actual  might,  the  power  of  the 
State,  riches,  and  all  the  good  tilings  of 
life,  were  contemned,  and  when  they  were 
obliged  to  reject  everything  which  had  no 
reference  to  their  purely  ideal  view.  That 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


85 


could  alone  maintain  the  uprightness  of  no- 
ble souls  in  a  time  of  oppression  under  for- 
eign rule ;  and  this  teaching  could  have 
been  given  at  a  time  only,  and  by  a  soul, 
which  sees  all  that  is  worth  living  for  van- 
ishing away,  which  builds  up  a  new  crea- 
tion, and  in  which  pure  thought  has  entire 
sway.  But  if  each  one  gives  away,  and 
gives  away  continually,  who  is  there  in  that 
case  to  be  the  recipient  ?  And  why  is  it 
that  this  doctrine,  that  no  one  is  to  possess 
anvthing,  has  not  become  a  command  of  the 
Church?" 

"I  am  glad,"  answered  the  ecclesiastic, 
"that  you  have  touched  the  real  point. 
Our  Church  has  commands  which  are  not 
universally  binding,  but  are  only  so  for  him 
who  wishes  to  be  perfect,  as,  for  instance, 
the  law  of  chastity  and  of  poverty.  Only  he 
who  wishes  to  be  perfect  comes  under  it." 

"I  ask,11  interposed  Eric,  "is  the  teach- 
ing of  revelation,  which  is  amply  suffi- 
cient for  the  purely  spiritual,  sufficient  also 
for  the  worldly  ?  In  the  course  of  the 
development  of  humanity  do  not  new  so- 
cial conditions  establish  themselves  in  the 
world,  as  out  of  nature  new  forces,  steam, 
electricity  —  " 

"Man,"  replied  the  priest,  "is  always 
the  same  from  eternity  to  eternity,  the  cit- 
izen only  changes.  But  I  see  now,  you 
are  letting  yourself  be  guided  into  the 
right  path.  I  do  not  desire  —  the  rich  man 
himself  did  not  desire  it  —  that  the  boy 
shall  be  perfect,  and  therefore  the  com- 
mand to  sell  his  possessions  is  not  applica- 
ble to  him.  I  only  say  to  you,  you  will 
not  be  able  to  educate  this  boy  unless  you 
give  him  positive  religion.  The  brute  does 
all  he  has  power  to  do  ;  with  it  there  is  no 
word  *  ought ; 1  but  man  does  not  do  all  that 
he  has  power  to  do.  Simply  to  do  that  for 
which  one  has  the  strength,  or,  yet  more 
properly,  the  inclination,  and  to  do  every- 
thing purely  from  inclination,  that  is  not 
the  human ;  the  human  begins  there  where 
one  tramples  his  inclination  under  foot,  and 
does  what  God's  law  commands.  Were 
every  one  to  act  according  to  his  inclina- 
tion, then  should  we  be  sure,  at  no  time, 
what  would  become  of  humanity.  The  law 
of  God  holds  it  together,  and  holds  it  erect. 
Here  is  the  significance  of  the  law  of  God, 
here  begins  the  fall,  which  the  gentlemen 
of  natural  science  havi,  never  got  over. 
The  animal  has  urgent  impulses ;  man  can 
voluntarily  awaken  impulse,  excite  it,  goad 
it,  multiply  it ;  where  is  there  a  limit  here, 
except  in  God's  law  ?  I  am  not  speaking 
of  any  Church.  You  have,  so  much  I 
know,  busied  yourself  chiefly  with  history  ?  " 

"  Not  so  particularly.1' 


"Well,  you  know  this  much:  no  people, 
no  State,  can  be  free,  at  least  we  have  no 
historical  instance  to  the  contrary,  no  peo- 
ple, no  State,  can  be  free  without  a  positive 
Church;  there  must  be  something  immov- 
ably fixed,  and  at  this  very  day  the  Amer- 
icans are  free,  only  because  they  subject 
themselves  to  religion.1' 

"Or,  rather,  enfranchise  it,"  Eric  inter- 
posed, without  being  heard. 

The  priest  continued  :  — 

"  I  think  that  you  desire  to  make  a  free 
man  of  this  youth.  We  also  love  free  men, 
we  want  free  men,  but  there  can  be  no  free 
men  without  a  positive  religion,  and,  in 
truth,  without  one  requiring  a  strict,  legal 
obedience.  The  highest  result  of  education 
is  equanimity — note  it  well  —  equanimity. 
Can  your  world-wisdom  produce  a  harmony 
of  all  the  tendencies  and  dispositions  of  the 
soul,  a  quietude  of  the  spirit,  a  state  of 
self-renunciation,  because  our  whole  life  is 
one  continual  act  of  self-sacrifice  ?  If  you 
can  produce  the  same  result  as  religion, 
then,  justified  by  the  result,  you  agree  with 
us.  For  my  own  part,  I  doubt  whether  you 
can ;  and  we  wait  for  the  proof,  which  you 
have  yet  to  give,  while  we  have  furnished 
it  now  for  a  thousand  years,  and  still  daily 
furnish  it." 

"  Religion,"  replied  Eric,  "  is  a  concom- 
itant of  civilization ;  but  it  is  not  the  whole 
of  civilization,  and  this  is  the  distinction 
between  us  and  the  ecclesiastics.  But  we 
are  not  to  blame  for  the  opposition  between 
science  and  religion." 

"Science,"  interposed  the  priest,  "has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  eternal  life.  Al- 
though one  has  electric  telegraphs  and  sew- 
ing machines,  that  has  no  relation  to  the 
eternal  life.  This  eternal  life  is  given  only 
by  religion,  and  its  essence  remains  the 
same,  no  matter  how  many  thousand,  and 
thousand  upon  thousand,  inventions  he  may 
devise  in  his  finite  existence." 

Eric  inquired  now  in  a  diffident  tone,  — 

"  But  how  can  the  Church  itself  possess 
riches  ?  " 

"  The  Church  does  not  possess,  it  only' 
administers,"  the  priest  sharply  answered. 

"I  think  that  we  are  getting  too  far 
away  from  the  point,"  Eric  said,  coming 
back  to  the  subject.  "  As  we  cannot  ex- 
pect that  Herr  Sonnenkamp  and  his  son 
Roland  will  give  away  all  their  property, 
the  question  returns,  how  shall  we  get  the 
right  hold  ?  " 

"Precisely  so,"  cried  the  ecclesiastic, 
suddenly  standing  up,  and  walking  with 
long  strides  up  and  down  the  room.  "  Pre- 
cisely so ;  now  are  we  on  the  very  point. 
Hear  me  attentively.    Observe  well,  there 


86 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


is  something  new  started  in  the  world,  a 
still  more  homeless  condition  yet  in  the 
higher  moral  order,  and  that  is  the  moneyed 
aristocracy.  You  look  at  me  in  amaze- 
ment." 

"Not  amazed,  but  expecting  what  will 
come  next.1' 

"  Very  right.  This  moneyed  aristocracy 
stands  between  the  nobility  and  the  people, 
and  I  ask  what  it  is  to  do  ?  Must  not  a 
rich  young  man  of  the  middle-class,  like 
Roland,  thrown  into  the  whirlpool  of  life, 
be  inevitably  ingulfed  ?  " 

"  Why  he,"  asked  Eric,  "  any  more  than 
the  noble  youth  in  the  civil  or  in  the  mili- 
tary service  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  religion 
eaves  them  from  destruction  ?  " 

M  No,  but  something  positive  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind ;  the  historic  traditions  of  the 
nobility  save  them.  The  man  of  the  no- 
bility has  the  good  fortune  to  complete  the 
preliminary  period  of  youthful  training, 
with  the  least  amount  of  detriment.  He 
afterwards  retires  to  his  estates,  becomes  a 
worthy  husband,  and  respectably  maintains 
his  position ;  and,  even  in  the  city,  in  the 
midst  of  the  mad  whirl,  his  position  in  re- 
gard to  the  court,  and  to  the  higher  class  in 
the  community,  keeps  him  within  prescribed 
limits.  But  what  does  the  rich  young  man 
of  the  middle-class  have  ?  He  has  no  hon- 
orable rank,  no  social  obligation,  at  least 
none  of  any  stringency." 

"  Then  it  would  be,  perhaps,  the  greatest 
piece  of  good  fortune  to  Roland,  if  his  father 
could  be  ennobled  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,"  replied  the  priest.  He 
was  vexed  that  he  had  allowed  himself  to 
be  drawn  so  near  to  the  subject  of  a  very 
confidential  conversation  with  Sonnenkamp 
a  short  time  previous  to  this.  "I  cannot 
say,"  he  repeated,  adding  besides,  "  If  one 
could  be  ennobled  with  seventeen  descents, 
it  might  be  well;  but  a  new  noble  —  let  us 
say  no  more  of  this.  I  desired  to  say,  that 
the  nobleman  has  honor,  traditionary,  in- 
herited obligation ;  the  nobleman  has  es- 
tablished and  has  to  maintain  the  maxim, 
*  noblesse  oblige,' 4  nobility  requires.1  What 
great  maxim  have  riches  established  ?  The 
most  brutal  of  all  maxims,  one  utterly  bes- 
tial.   And  do  you  know  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  refer  to." 

"  The  maxim  which  this  pursuit  of  gain 
sets  up  as  its  highest  is,  *  Help  thyself.' 
The  beast  does  that,  every  one  helps  himself. 
Riches  thus  stand  between  nobility  and 
people ;  they  occupy  that  morally  homeless 
position,  without  a  recognized  obligation, 
between  nobility  and  people.  I  understand 
by  people,  not  only  those  who  labor  with 
the  hands,  but  also  the  men  of  science,  of  I 


art,  and  even  of  the  church.  The  people 
have  work  ;  this  moneyed  class  does  not  wish 
for  honor,  and  only  wants  labor  so  far  as  it 
can  have  others  labor  for  it,  and  appropri- 
ate to  itself  the  product  of  their  labor. 
What  does  it  want?  gold.  What  does  it 
want  to  do  with  the  gold  ?  procure  enjoy- 
ment. Who  guarantees  this?  the  State. 
What  does  it  do  for  the  State?  There's 
the  whole  question !  Have  you  any  an- 
swer ?  " 

Eric's  lips  trembled,  and  he  replied :  — 

"If  the  nobility  feels  itself  obliged  and 
entitled  to  assume  the  leadership  in  the 
army  for  war,  then  are  the  young  men  of 
wealth  to  feel  themselves  called  to  beccme 
leaders  in  the  army  of  peace ;  and  they  are 
to  make  good  their  position  to  the  co'nnr^ 
nity,  to  their  own  circle,  and  to  their  fel- 
lows, serving  without  compensation,  and 
actively  engaged  in  entire  subjection  to  au- 
thority, as  a  protection  of  the  whole  State, 
and  a  sacrifice  in  all  works  of  beneficence." 

"Stop!"  cried  the  priest;  "the  last  is 
our  work.  You  will  never  be  able  to  or- 
ganize that  without  religion ;  you  will  never 
be  able  to  effect,  that  people,  out  of  their 
opulence,  out  of  their  luxury,  or,  as  you 
would  denominate  it,  out  of  purely  humane 
emotions,  shall  visit  the  dying  in  the  huts 
of  the  poor,  the  helpless,  the  sick,  and  the 
abandoned." 

As  if  the  ecclesiastic  had  invoked  this 
high  duty  of  his  office,  the  sacristan  now 
came,  and  said  that  an  old  vine-dresser 
desired  extreme  unction.  The  priest  was 
speedily  ready,  and  Eric  departed. 

When  he  came  out  into  the  road,  and 
breathed  the  fresh  air,  he  felt  its  influence 
anew.  Did  he  not  come  out  of  the  atmos- 
phere of  incense  ?  No,  here  was  more  ; 
here  was  a  mighty  power,  which  placed  it- 
self face  to  face  with  the  great  riddle  of 
existence. 

Eric  sauntered  away,  lost  in  thought,  and 
it  occurred  to  him  again  how  much  more 
easy  was  the  task  of  those  who  can  impart 
some  fixed  dogmatic  principles  which  they 
do  not  originate,  but  receive  ;  he,  however, 
must  create  all  out  of  himself,  out  of  his 
own  cognition. 

And  can  what  comes  out  of  your  own 
cognition  become  a  part  of  the  cognition  of 
another  ? 

Eric  stood  still,  and  the  thought  that  he 
would  educate  himself  while  educating  an- 
other made  his  cheeks  glow ;  the  youth 
should  acquire  knowledge  from  himself ; 
for  what  is  all  culture  which  must  be  im- 
parted from  one  to  another?  nothing  but 
help  and  guidance  to  him  who  has  a  self- 
moving  power. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


87 


Half  way  up  the  mountain,  Eric  stopped 
at  the  road  which  led  to  the  Major's.  He 
looked  down  at  the  villa  which  bore  the 
proud  name  of  Eden,  and  the  Bible  story 
came  to  his  memory.  In  the  garden  are 
two  trees,  the  tree  of  life  in  the  midst,  and 
the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil ; 
Eden  is  lost  for  him  who  eats  of  the  tree  of 
knowledge.    Is  it  not  always  so  ? 

Like  a  revelation  the  thought  came  to 
him,  There  are  three  things  given  to  man 
upon  earth,  —  enjoyment,  renunciation,  and 
knowledge. 

Sonnenkamp  yonder  —  what  does  he  wish 
for  himself  and  his  son?  enjoyment.  The 
world  is  a  spread  table,  and  man  has  only 
to  learn  to  find  the  right  means  and  the 
right  measure  of  enjoyment.  The  earth  is 
a  place  of  pleasure,  and  brings  forth  its 
fruits  that  we  may  delight  ourselves  there- 
with. Have  we  no  other  calling  than  to 
drive,  to  eat,  to  drink,  and  to  sleep,  and 
then  to  eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  drive  again; 
and  is  the  sun  to  shine  just  for  this  ? 

What  does  the  priest  want  V  renunciation. 


This  world  has  nothing  to  offer,  its  enjoy- 
ments are  only  an  illusive  show,  which 
tempt  you  hither  and  thither,  therefore  turn 
away  from  them. 

And  what  do  you  desire?  And  what 
ought  those  to  desire  whom  you  wish  to 
make  like  yourself?  knowledge.  For  life 
is  not  divided  into  enjoyment  and  renunci- 
ation, and  knowledge  rather  includes  both 
in  itself,  —  is  the  synthesis  of  both.  It  is  the 
mother  of  duty  and  of  all  beautiful  deeds. 

In  the  old  times,  the  combatants  received 
out  of  an  immeasurable  height  a  protecting 
shield  from  the  hands  of  the  gods  ;  Eric  re- 
ceived no  shield,  and  yet  he  felt  that  he 
was  concealed  from  and  protected  against 
all  foes,  and  he  was  so  happy  in  himself 
I  that  he  felt  no  desire  for  any  human  being, 
no  desire  for  anything  beside ;  he  was  up- 
borne by  the  wings  of  knowledge. 

He  went  yet  farther  on  in  the  way. 
Peaceful,  and  enjoying  an  internal  satisfac- 
tion, he  came  to  the  Major's  in  the  next 
village.  He  knew  that  here  he  should  have 
to  stand  no  examination. 


88 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  GOOD  COMRADE. 

TnE  Major  lived  in  a  beautifully  situated 
house  in  the  vineyard  of  a  rich  vintner 
from  the  fortress,  or  rather,  to  use  the 
proper  expression,  of  a  brother  of  the 
order,  for  the  central  point  of  the  Major's 
life  rested  firmly  in  Freemasonry,  and  he 
cherished  it  within  his  life  and  thought, as 
his  holy  of  holies  ;  and  if  men  talked  of  the 
riddles  of  life,  his  face  always  said, — I  see 
no  mystery,  all  is  clear  to  me ;  only  come 
to  us,  we  have  an  answer  to  everything. 

The  small  house  which  the  Major  in- 
habited was  attached  to  the  large  mansion  ; 
one  side  looked  toward  the  highroad,  and 
the  other  commanded  a  view  of  the  river 
and  the  mountains  beyond.  The  Major 
confined  himself  strictly  to  his  little  house, 
and  his  own  special  little  garden  with  its 
arbor.  He  watched  over  the  larger  dwell- 
ing and  its  garden,  like  a  castelan,  but  he 
never  lived  there,  and  often  did  not  enter 
them  for  the  many  months  during  which 
they  stood  empty. 

Eric  found  the  Major  in  his  little  garden, 
smoking  a  long  pipe  and  reading  the  news- 
paper, with  a  cup  of  cold  coffee  before  him. 
An  exceedingly  neat-looking  old  lady,  with 
a  large  white  cap,  was  sitting  opposite,  en- 
gaged in  darning  stockings ;  she  rose  as 
soon  as  Eric  entered  the  garden,  and  hardly 
waited  to  be  presented.  The  Major 
touched  his  cap  in  military  fashion,  and 
took  the  long  pipe  from  his  mouth. 

"Fräulein  Milch,  this  is  my  comrade, 
Herr  Doctor  Dournay,  lately  Captain." 

Fräulein  Milch  courtesied,  took  up  her 
basket  of  stockings,  and  went  into  the 
house. 

"  She  is  good  and  sensible,  always  con- 
tented and  cheerful ;  you  will  become  better 
acquainted,1'  said  the  Major,  as  she  with- 
drew ;  4  4  and  s  he  understands  men,  —  no  one 
better, — she  looks  them  through  and  through. 
Sit  down,  comrade,  you  have  come  just  at 
my  pleasantest  hour.  You  see,  this  is  the 
way  I  live  :  I  have  nothing  particular  to 
do,  but  I  get  up  early,  — it  prolongs  life,  — 
and  every  day  I  gain  a  victory  over  a  lazy, 
effeminate  fellow,  who  has  to  take  a  cold 
bath,  and  then  go  to  walk ;  he  often  doesn't 
want  to,  but  he  has  to  do  it.  And  then, 
you  see,  I  come  home,  and  sit  here  in  the 
morning :  —  and  here  is  a  white  cloth  spread 
on  the  table,  and  before  me  stand  a  pot  of 
coffee,  good  cream,  a  roll — butter  I  don't 
eat.  I  pour  out  my  coffee,  dip  in  the  roll 
which  is  so  good  and  crisp  — I  can  still  bite 
well,  Fräulein  Milch  keeps  my  teeth  in 
order  —  then  at  the  second  cup,  I  take  my 


pipe  and  puff  out  the  smoke  over  the  world, 
and  over  the  world's  history,  which  the 
newspaper  brings  me  every  day.  I  still 
have  good  eyes,  I  can  read  without  spec- 
tacles, and  can  hit  a  mark ;  and  I  can  hear 
well,  and  my  back  is  still  good ;  I  hold  my- 
self as  straight  as  a  recruit  —  and  look  you, 
comrade,  I  am  the  richest  man  in  the 
world.  And  then  at  noon  I  have  my  soup  — 
nobody  makes  soup  like  her  —  my  bit  of 
good  roast  meat,  my  pint  of  wine,  my  cof- 
fee—  with  four  beans  she  makes  better 
coffee  than  any  one  else  can  with  a  pound  — 
and  yet  it  has  happened  to  me  a  thousand 
times  to  have  to  sing  this  song  to  the  fellow 
sitting  here :  You  are  the  most  ungrateful 
fellow  in  the  world,  to  be  cross  as  you  often 
are,  and  wish  for  this  and  that  which  you 
have  not.  Only  look  round  you  ;  see  how 
nice  and  neat  everything  is,  —  good  bread,  a 
good  arm-chair,  a  good  pipe  and  so  much 
good  rest,  — you  are  the  happiest  man  in  the 
world  to  have  all  this.  Yes,  my  dear  com- 
rade, you  may  be  deucedly  learned  —  I 
bög  pardon  —  I  mean,  you  may  be  very 
learned  —  look  you  —  I  never  studied,  I 
never  learned  anything,  I  was  a  drummer  — 
I'll  tell  you  about  it  sometime  —  yes,  com- 
rade—  what  was  I  saying?  ah,  that's  it, 
you  know  a  thousand  times  more  than  I  do, 
but  one  thing  you  can  learn  of  me.  Make 
the  best  of  life ;  now's  the  time,  be  happy 
now,  enjoy  yourself  now,  this  hour  won't 
come  back  again.  Don't  always  be  think- 
ing about  to-morrow.  Just  draw  a  long 
breath,  comrade  —  there,  what  sort  of  air  is 
that  ?  is  there  better  anywhere  ?  —  and  then 
we  have  our  nice,  clean  clothes  on! — Ah, 
thank  the  Builder  of  all  the  worlds  !  —  Yes, 
comrade,  if  I  had  had  any  one,  when  I  was 
your  age,  to  tell  me  what  I'm  telling  you  — 
Pooh,  pooh!  —  What  an  old  talker  I  am  — 
I'm  glad  you've  come  to  see  me !  —  Well, 
how  do  you  get  on  ?  Are  you  really  going 
to  drill  our  boy  ?  I  think  you  are  the  right 
man  to  do  it,  you  will  bring  him  into  line  — 
you  know,  comrade,  what  that  means  — 
only  a  soldier  can  do  that.  Only  a  soldier 
can  school  men.  Nothing  but  strict  disci- 
pline !  — I'll  warrant,  he'll  come  outright  — 
he'll  do  well — Fräulein 'Milch  has  always 
said,  *  He'll  come  out  right,  if  he  only  falls 
into  the  right  hands.'  The  school- masters 
are  all  of  no  use ;  Herr  Knopf  was  very 
worthy  and  good-hearted,  but  he  didn't 
hold  the  reins  tight.  Thank  the  Builder  of 
all  the  worlds,  now  it's  all  right! — Thank 
you  for  coming  to  see  me.  If  I  can  help 
you,  remember  that  we  are  comrades.  It's  • 
very  fortunate  that  you  have  been  a  soldier. 
I  have  always  wished  —  Fräulein  Milch  can 
testify  that  I've  said  a  hundred  times,  none 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


89 


but  a  soldier  will  do  !  —  Now  let  us  make  a 
soldier  of  Roland,  a  true  soldier,  he  has 
courage,  he  only  wants  the  training !  " 

"I  should  like,"  answered  Eric,  "if  I 
really  have  the  position  —  " 

"Really  have  the  position?  There's  no 
doubt  about  it,  I  tell  you — Pooh,  pooh; 
I'll  wager  something  on  that.  But,  I  ask 
your  pardon,  I  won't  talk  any  more  —  what 
were  you  going  to  say,  comrade  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  ought  not  to  train  him  for 
any  special  calling ;  Roland  must  be  a  cul- 
tivated, wise,  and  good  man,  whatever  his 
profession  may  prove  to  be  —  " 

"Just  so,  just  so  —  excellently  said  — 
that's  right- — the  fellow  has  given  me  much 
anxiety !  How  foolish  people  are,  to  han- 
ker after  millions.  When  they  get  them,  all 
they  can  do  is  to  eat  their  fill  and  sleep 
eight  hours,  that's  all  any  one  can  do. 
The  chief  point  is  —  "  here  the  Major  low- 
ered his  voice,  and  raised  his  hand — "the 
chief  point  is,  he  must  return  to  nature ; 
that  is  all  the  world  needs  —  to  return  to 
nature." 

Eric  luckily  abstained  from  asking  the 
Major  what  he  precisely  meant  by  this 
mysterious  proposition,  for  the  Major 
would,  unfortunately,  not  have  been  able  to 
tell  him ;  but  he  was  fond  of  the  phrase, 
and  always  us,ed  it,  leaving  every  one  to 
find  out  the  meaning  for  himself. 

"To  return  to  nature,  everything  is  in- 
cluded in  that,"  he  repeated. 

After  a  while  he  began  :  — 

"Yes,  what  was  I  going  to  ask? — Tell 
me,  did  not  you  have  a  great  deal  to  bear 
as  a  soldier,  because  you  were  a  commoner 
and  not  a  noble  ?" 

Eric  answered  in  the  negative,  and  the 
Major  stammered  out, — 

"Indeed,  indeed — you  —  a  liberally  ed- 
ucated man,  felt  less  of  it.  I  asked  for  my 
discharge.    I'll  tell  you  about  it  sometime." 

Eric  mentioned  that  he  had  been  at  the 
priest's,  and  the  Major  said,  — 

"  He  is  an  excellent  man,  but  I  call  for 
no  aid  of  the  ecclesiastics.  You  know  I 
am  a  Freemason." 

Eric  assented,  and  the  Major  continued  : 
"Whatever  is  good  in  me  has  its  home  in 
that;  we  will  talk  farther  of  it — I  will  be 
your  god-father.  Ah,  how  glad  Herr 
Weidmann  will  be  to  know  you." 

And  again,  at  the  mention  of  Weid- 
mann's  name,  it  seemed  as  if  a  beaut/iful 
view  of  the  highest  mountains  of  the  land- 
scape was  brought  before  the  mind.  The 
Major  resumed :  — 

"  But  now  as  to  the  ecclesiastics.  Look" 
—  he  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer —  "  look 
at  my  drum,  it's  all  there  in  that  —  look 


you,  I  was  a  drummer  —  yes,  smile  away, 
if  you  like  —  look  you,  everybody  says 
such  a  drum  makes  nothing  but  racket,  and 
I  tell  them  there's  music  in  it,  as  beautiful 
as  —  I  won't  disparage  any  one  —  as  beau- 
tiful as  any  other  —  look  you,  then,  I  say, 
—  mark  my  words  —  then  I  say,  '  I  will  not 
quarrel  with  you  if  you  hear  nothing  but 
noise,  but  don't  quarrel  with  me,  if  I  hear 
something  else.'  Look  you,  I  have  thought 
it  all  over,  everything  else  will  be  made  by 
machinery,  men  are  very  clever,  but  drum 
and  trumpet-signals  can  not  be  made  by 
machinery,  human  hands  and  mouths  are 
needed  for  that ;  I  was  a  drummer,  for  ex- 
ample, I'll  tell  you  about  it.  Look  you,  I 
know  by  the  sound  what  sort  of  a  heart  a 
man  has,  when  he  beats  a  drum;  where 
you,  my  brother,  hear  nothing  but  noise 
and  confusion,  I  hear  music  and  deep  mean- 
ing. ,  Therefore,  for  God's  sake,  no  strife 
about  religions ;  one  is  worth  as  much  or 
as  little  as  another,  they  only  lead  the 
march ;  but  the  main  thing  is,  how  every 
man  marches  for  himself,  how  he  has  drilled 
himself,  and  what  sort  of  a  heart  he  has  in 
his  body." 

Eric  was  amused  by  the  eccentricity  of 
this  man,  who  had  a  deep  earnestness  and 
moral  freedom  peculiar  to  himself. 

Standing  his  pipe  near  him,  the  Major 
asked,  — 

**  Is  there  any  human  being  in  the  world 
whom  you  hate,  at  the  sight  of  whom  the 
heart  in  your  body  gives  a  twist  ?  " 

Eric  answered  in  the  negative,  and  said 
that  his  father  had  always  impressed  it  upon 
him,  that  nothing  injured  one's  own  soul 
like  hatred ;  and  that  for  his  own  sake,  a 
man  ought  not  to  let  such  a  feeling  take 
root  within  him. 

"  That's  the  man  for  me  !  that's  the  man 
for  me!"  cried  the  Major.  "Now  we 
shall  get  on  together.  Whoever  has  had 
such  a  father  is  the  man  for  me  ! " 

He  then  told  Eric  that  there  was  a  man 
in  the  village  whom  he  hated :  he  was  the 
tax-collector,  who  wore  the  St.  Helena  medal 
given  by  the  present  Napoleon  to  the  vet- 
erans, for  the  heroic  deeds  in  which  they 
had  taken  part  in  the  subjugation  of  their 
fatherland.  "  And  would  you  believe  it !  " 
exclaimed  the  Major,  "the  man  has  had 
himself  painted  with  the  St.  Helena  medal ; 
the  portrait  hangs  framed  in  his  room  of 
state,  and  under  it,  in  a  separate  frame, 
the  diploma  signed  by  the  French  minister. 
I  don't  bow  to  the  man,  nor  return  his  bow, 
nor  sit  down  at  the  same  table  with  him ; 
he  has  a  different  principle  of  honor  from 
mine.  And  tell  me,  ought  there  not  to 
be  some  way  of  punishing  such  men?  I 


90 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


can  only  do  it  by  showing  my  contempt ; 
it  is  painful  to  me,  but  must  I  not  do  it?  11 

The  old  man  looked  much  astonished 
when  Eric  represented  to  him  that  the  man 
ought  to  be  judged  mildly,  since  vanity  had 
great  powers  to  mislead,  and  besides,  many 
governments  had  been  well  pleased  to  have 
their  subjects  win  the  St.  Helena  medal, 
and  the  man,  who  was  in  the  service  of  the 
state,  was  not  to  be  sentenced  without  hear- 
ing. 

"  That's  good  !  that's  good  !  "  cried  the 
old  Major,  nodding  frequently,  according  to 
his  habit;  "you  are  the  right  kind  of 
teacher  !  I  am  seventy  years  old,  that  is, 
I  am  seventy-three  now,  and  I've  known 
many  men,  and  let  people  say  what  they 
will,  I  have  never  known  a  bad  man,  one 
really  bad.  In  passion,  and  stupidity,  and 
pride,  men  do  much  that's  wrong ;  but,  good 
God !  one  ought  to  thank  his  heavenly  Fa- 
ther that  he  isn't  such  as  he  might  very 
often  have  become.  Thank  you ;  thank 
you :  you  have  lifted  the  enemy  from  my 
neck; — yes,  from  my  neck;  he  has  sat 
there,  heavy  and  —  look,  here  comes  the 
man  himself!  " 

The  collector  was  walking  by  the  garden ; 
the  Major  went  to  the  hedge  with  many 
nods  and  gestures  of  his  hand ;  he  hoped, 
perhaps,  that  the  man  would  utter  the  first 
greeting ;  but  as  this  did  not  happen,  he 
suddenly  called  out,  with  a  voice  like  the 
explosion  of  a  bomb,  — 

"  Good-morning,  Herr  Collector  !  " 

The  man  returned  his  salutation  and  went 
on.  The  old  Major  was  entirely  happy, 
and  passed  his  hand  several  times  over  his 
heart,  as  if  a  stone  or  burden  were  removed 
from  it.  Fräulein  Milch  looked  out  of  the 
window,  and  the  Major  asked  her  to  come 
out,  as  he  had  something  very  good  to  tell 
her.  She  came,  looking  still  neater  than 
before,  having  put  on  a  white  apron,  in 
which  the  ironed  folds  were  still  fresh.  The 
Major  told  her  that  the  collector  was  not  to 
blame,  for  he  had  received  the  St.  Helena 
medal  only  in  obedience  to  the  govern- 
ment. 

They  went  together  to  the  house,  and 
the  Major  showed  his  guest  the  rooms  where 
simple  neatness  reigned ;  then  he  looked  at 
the  barometer,  and  nodded,  saying  to  him- 
self, 44  Set  fair." 

Then  he  looked  at  the  thermometer 
screwed  up  by  the  window,  and  wiped  his 
forehead,  as  if  he  had  not  felt  till  then  how 
hot  it  was. 

A  shot  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  the 
Major  pointed  out  to  Eric  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  came,  saying,  — 


"  I  can  hear  the  gun-practice  from  the 
fortress.  I  find  that  the  rifie-cannon  have 
just  the  same  sound  as  the  smooth-bore. 
Ah,  comrade,  you  must  instruct  me  in  the 
new  art  of  war.  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it,  but  when  I  hear  them  firing  down 
there,  all  the  soldier  in  me  wakes  up." 

He  asked  Fraulein  Milch  to  bring  a  bot- 
tle of  wine,  one  of  the  very  best.  Fräu- 
lein Milch  seemed  to  have  it  all  ready ;  she 
brought  bottle  and  glasses  directly,  but 
gave  the  Major  a  significant  look,  which  he 
understood,  and  answered  :  — 

"  Don't  be  afraid  ;  I  know  very  well  that 
I  can't  drink  in  the  morning.  Pray,  cap- 
tain, give  me  your  cork-screw.  I  take  you 
to  be  the  right  sort  of  man,  and  the  right 
sort  of  man  always  has  a  cork-screw  in  his 
pocket." 

Smiling,  Eric  handed  him  his  knife,  which 
was  fitted  with  a  cork-screw. 

While  the  Major  was  opening  the  bottle, 
he  said,  — 

7  And  another  mark  of  a  genuine  man  is, 
that  he  can  whistle.  Comrade,  be  so  kind 
as  to  whistle  once  for  me." 

Laughter  prevented  Eric  from  drawing 
up  his  lips.  The  bottle  was  uncorked,  and 
they  drank  to  good  comradeship.  The 
Major  said,  — 

"  Perhaps  we  are  in  better  spirits  here, 
than  our  friend  Sonnenkanip  in  his  grand 
villa.  But  Herr  captain,  I  say  again,  an 
elephant  is  happy,  and  a  fly  is  happy  too ; 
only  the  elephant  has  a  larger  proboscis 
than  the  fly." 

The  Major  laughed  till  he  shook  with  de- 
light at  his  comparison,  and  Eric  found  the 
laughter  contagious,  and  as  often  as  they 
looked  at  each  other,  the  laughter  began 
afresh. 

"  You  show  me  the  meaning  of  the  prov- 
erb," cried  Eric,  "  '  a  gnat  may  be  taken 
for  an  elephant,1  and  in  fact  it  is  correct ; 
not  the  size,  not  the  mass,  but  the  organism 
is  the  life." 

11  Just  so,  just  so  !  "  exclaimed  the  Major. 
"Fräulein  Milch,  come  in  again  a  mo- 
ment." 

Fräulein  Milch,  who  had  left  the  room, 
re-entered,  and  the  Major  continued,  — 

"  Pray,  captain,  say  that  once  more  about 
the  organism.  That  is  the  sort  of  thing  for 
Fräulein  Milch,  for,  look  you,  she  studies 
much  more  than  she  chooses  to  let  any  one 
know.  If  you  please,  comrade,  the  organ- 
ism once  more.    I  can't  tell  it  half  so  well." 

What  was  Eric  to  do  ?  He  explained  his 
figure  again,  and  the  laughter  broke  out 
anew. 

Fräulein  Milch  recommended  to  Eric  the 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


91 


school-master  of  the  village,  as  a  remark- 
ably fine  writer,  and  the  Major  cried,  laugh- 
ing, — 

"  Yes,  comrade,  Fräulein  Milch  is  a  living 
roll  of  honor  for  the  whole  region;  if  you 
want  information  about  anyone,  ask  her. 
And  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  let  the  Count- 
ess Wolfsgarten  give  you  any  medicine. 
Fräulein  Milch  knows  much  more  about  it 
—  and  no  one  can  apply  leeches  so  well  as 
she  can." 

Eric  saw  the  good  old  woman's  embarrass- 
ment, and  began  to  praise  her  beautiful 
flowers,  and  thriving  plants,  which  stood  in 
the  window.  The  Major  asserted  that  she 
understood  gardening  perhaps  even  better 
than  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  and  if  it  were  only 
known  with  what  small  means  she  raised  her 
plants,  she  would  get  the  first  prize  at  the 
exhibition,  instead  of  the  gentlemen  with 
their  great  forcing-houses. 

Turning  the  conversation,  Fräulein  Milch 
said  to  Eric  that  it  was  the  chief  misfortune 
of  Roland,  the  poor  rich  boy,  that  he  had 
no  real  satisfaction. 

"No  real  satisfaction?"  laughed  the 
Major ;  "just  listen  to  that !  " 

"Yes,"  asserted  Fräulein  Milch,  the  rib- 
bons and  bows  on  her  cap  nodding  assent- 
ingly  as  she  spoke,  "  he  has  merely  pleasure 
and  amusements  that  money  can  buy,  but 
they  are  not  genuine ;  and  any  one  who 
only  drives  through  the  world  for  pleasure, 
with  nothing  to  do  in  it,  seeks  satisfaction 
in  vain." 

A  gleam  of  pleasure  from  Eric's  eyes 
rested  on  the  good  Fräulein,  and  at  that 
moment  a  secret  bond  of  union,  a  sense  of 
mutual  understanding,  was  formed  between 
them. 

Accompanied  by  both  as  far  as  the  gar- 
den-gate, Eric  left  the  house.  When  the 
door  was  opened,  a  brown  and  white  span- 
iel jumped  upon  the  Major. 

"  Halloo  !  "  cried  the  Major,  in  a  tone  of 
mingled  scolding  and  caress,  "  where  have 
you  been  again,  you  disorderly  vagabond, 
who  can  tell  where  ?  and  here  we've  had  a 
visitor ;  old  as  you  are,  you  will  never  learn 
good  behavior  and  regular  habits.  Shame 
on  you  —  shame  !  " 

So  spoke  the  Major  to  his  dog  Laadi, 
well-known  in  all  the  country  round ;  he 
kept  a  female  dog,  because  the  village  dogs 
never  fought  with  her. 

As  the  Major  left  the  garden  with  Eric, 
he  said,  — 

"  Look  at  these  two  posts,  these  closely- 
trimmed  ash-trees.  Several  years  ago  I 
noticed  that  the  one  at  the  left  got  its  leaves 
ten  or  eleven  days  before  the  one  at  the 
right.   Now,  once  the  frost  came  unexpect- 


edly, and  the  leaves  withered  on  the  left- 
hand  one,  and  it  drooped  all  summer; 
since  then  it  has  been  prudent,  and  lets  the 
other  get  its  leaves  first,  and  then  itself 
leaves  out.  Doesn't  it  seem  as  if  trees  had 
understanding?  Yes,  dear  comrade,  every- 
thing is  better  arranged  in  the  world  than 
we  understand,  and,  look  you,  though  I 
have  a  pension  and  nothing  to  do,  I  have  so 
many  things  to  keep  in  sight,  that  the  day 
is  often  too  short.  Now,  good-by,  and  re- 
member that  you  can  always  feel  at  home 
with  us." 

And  as  Eric  shook  hands,  he  added  :  — 

"  I  thank  you,  for  now  I  have  another 
man  to  hold  dear,  and  that's  the  best  thing 
in  the  world  to  keep  one  young  and  sound." 

Eric  had  gone  several  steps,  when  the 
Major  called  to  him  to  stop,  and  coming 
up  to  him,  said  :  — 

"  Yes,  as  to  Herr  Sonnenkamp  —  do  not 
be  led  astray,  comrade.  Men  of  the  world 
either  make  an  idol  of  a  successful  man,  or 
they  abuse  him.  Herr  Sonnenkamp  is  some- 
what rough  outside,  but  he  is  good  at  heart ; 
and,  as  to  his  past  history,  who  is  there  who 
can  feel  satisfied  with  all  his  past  life  ?  can 
any  man  ?  certainly  not  I,  and  I  don't  know 
anyone  who  can.  I  have  not  always  lived 
as  I  wish  I  had.  But  enough,  you  are  wiser 
than  I." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,"  replied  Eric. 
"  American  life  is  an  existence  without  a 
seventh  day  of  rest ;  there  is  a  continual 
working  and  striving  to  win  money,  noth- 
ing else.  If  men  have  led  such  a  life  for 
half  a  score  of  years,  they  lose  the  power  of 
turning  to  anything  else  ;  they  say  to  them- 
selves that  if  they  only  had  enough  —  ah, 
those  who  strive  for  gold  never  get  enough 
—  they  say  then  they  would  devote  them- 
selves to  nobler  ends.  If  it  were  only  still 
possible  !  I  understand  you,  and  wonder  at 
Herr  Sonnenkamp." 

"Just  so  — just  so,"  said  the  Major,  "he 
must  have  dragged  himself  through  a  good 
deal  of  mud,  as  a  gold-hunter,  to  get  such  a 
great  property  together.  Yes,  yes,  I  am 
easy  —  you  are  wiser  than  I.  But  now, 
just  for  the  first  time,  the  main  question  oc- 
curs to  me — look  at  me,  tell  me  honestly, 
is  it  true  that  you  have  been  to  see  Fräulein 
Manna  at  the  convent  ?  " 

"I  have  been  at  the  convent,  and  saw 
Fräulein  Manna,  but  without  knowing  her 
or  speaking  to  her." 

"  And  you  didn't  come  to  establish  your- 
self in  the  house,  in  order  to  marry  the 
daughter  ?  " 

Eric  smiled,  as  he  said  in  reply,  how 
strangely  this  question  came  to  him  from 
every  direction. 


92 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Look  you,  comrade,  put  the  maiden  out 
of  your  thoughts,  she  is  as  good  as  betrothed 
to  Baron  Pranken  —  I  would  rather  you 
should  have  her,  but  it  can't  be  changed." 

Eric  at  last  got  away,  and  went  back 
toward  the  villa  with  cheerful  thoughts. 
Good  powers  were  working  together  to 
keep  Roland  constantly  in  a  circle  of  thought 
and  feeling,  from  which  he  might  not  devi- 
ate through  his  whole  life. 

He  stopped  before  a  wide-spreading  wal- 
nut tree,  and  looked  up  smiling  into  its  rich 
branches. 

"  Sonnenkamp  is  right,"  he  said  to  him- 
self ;  "  the  planting  of  trees  and  their  growth 
depend  upon  the  surrounding  heights  and 
the  prevailing  winds.  There  are  nervous 
trees,  which  are  killed  by  the  blasts,  and 
others  which  only  strike  root  when  they  are 
blown  this  way  and  that  by  the  wind.  Is 
not  the  life  of  man  such  a  plant  ?  the  men 
around  it  constitute  its  climatic  zone." 

Eric  thought  he  was  constantly  getting  a 
better  insight  into  the  influences  which  were 
helping,  and  those  which  were  hindering,  the 
true  growth  of  his  pupil. 

How  rich  is  the  world  !  Up  there  at  the 
castle  sits  the  old  count  by  his  young  wife's 
side,  and  creates  for  himself  an  ideal  realm 
of  thought,  after  a  full  and  active  life ;  — 
here  sits  the  old  Major  with  his  house- 
keeper. How  Bella  would  turn  up  her 
nose  if  she  were  compared  with  that  house- 
keeper, and  yet  — 

Suddenly  Eric  heard  carriage  wheels  be- 
hind him,  and  a  man's  and  a  woman's  voice 
called  out  to  him. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  THIRD  PERSON. 

On  the  day  that  Eric  had  left  Castle 
Wolfsgarten,  an  habitual  visitor  made  his 
appearance  there ;  this  was  the  son  of  the 
eminent  wine-merchant,  the  so-calledWine- 
count.  He  came  once  a  week,  to  play  chess 
with  the  count.  He  looked  young,  but  he 
was  worn  out  in  soul,  not  knowing  what  to 
do  in  the  world  ;  he  derived  no  satisfaction 
from  the  business  of  his  father,  had  money 
enough,  had  learned  a  variety  of  things, 
was  something  of  a  musician,  drew  a  little, 
had  very  various  talents,  but  no  one  pre- 
dominant. All  was  wearisome  to  him ;  hol- 
low and  stale  seemed  that  enjoyment  of 
life  which  was  to  be  decorously  pursued. 
Wherefore  should  he  devote  himself,  to  the 
restricted  limits  of  some  regular  pursuit,  in 
order  to  make  money  ?  That  is  wholly 
needless.  He  was  a  director  in  several 
railroads,  and  for  a  period  it  had  satisfied 
him  to  oversee  and  to  manage,  to  be  saluted 


respectfully,  and  listened  to  obsequiously, 
by  the  subordinates  held  strictly  to  their 
place;  but  that  too  became  distaseful  to 
him.  Travelling,  too,  proffered  him  no- 
thing further,  one  had  to  drag  along  with 
himself  continually  such  an  extra  weight  of 
ennui.  He  turned  a  disgusted  eye  upon 
the  world  which  had  nothing  to  do  "for  him, 
and  in  which  he  could  do  nothing.  He  had 
cultivated  one  talent,  that  of  chess-playing, 
and  as  Clodwig  also  took  great  pleasure  in 
the  game,  and  was  skilful  in  it,  he  came 
every  week  to  Wolfsgarten,  and  played 
with  Clodwig,  for  it  conferred  upon  him  a 
special  regard  in  his  own  eyes,  and  in  those 
of  others. 

He  had  also  a  great  reputation,  among 
all  those  in  the  neighborhood  who  prided 
themselves  upon  the  same  qualities  as  he, 
of  being  a  rake,  and  appearing  to  the  world 
as  a  gallant.  He  had  a  collection  of  lewd 
pictures  of  every  kind,  and  one  must  be 
very  intimate  with  him  to  be  able  to  say 
that  he  had  seen  them  all,  even  to  the  most 
carefully  hidden.  Of  course  the  Wine- 
chevalier  presented  a  very  respectable  ap- 
pearance before  the  world.  No  one  had 
ever  seen  him  intoxicated,  and,  in  general 
society,  he  always  played  the  part  of  one 
very  condescending  and  indifferent,  who  is 
yet  so  noble  as  to  remain  in  intercourse 
with  these  inferior  people,  as  much  as  to 
say,  One  owes  that  much  for  old  acquain- 
tance' sake.  Mothers  always  warned  their 
daughters  of  the  Wine-chevalier,  just  as  one 
speaks  to  children  of  the  wolf  howling  out- 
side there  in  the  fields,  but  the  mothers 
themselves  did  not  take  it  in  bad  part  when 
he  sometimes  cast  a  languishing  glance  upon 
them,  and  even  when  he  frequently  said 
something  to  them  in  whispers. 

The  Justice's  daughter,  Lina,  was  not  so 
simple  as  the  mother  always  said,  for  she 
declared  that  the  Wine-chevalier  was  that 
transformed  manikin  in  the  fairy-tales,  who 
travelled  to  learn  what  shivering  meant. 

The  Wine-chevalier  of  course  kept  him- 
self fresh  in  his  toilet  and  his  anecdotes, 
and  in  everything,  externally  and  inter- 
nally, that  the  prevailing  fashion  required, 
from  year  to  year,  living  also  for  several 
months  in  Paris.  He  did  not,  like  his 
father,  speak  of  his  friend  this  and  the. 
other  ambassador,  minister  so  and  so,  and 
prince  so  and  so,  but  he  let  it  be  known 
that  he  lived  in  the  most  inseparable  inti- 
macy with  the  most  famous  members  of  the 
Jockey  Club. 

The  Wine-chevalier  always  experienced, 
besides,  some  degree  of  pleasure  in  devot- 
ing himself  to  paying  courteous  compli- 
ments to  the  virtuous  Frau  Bella,  but  she 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


93 


looked  at  him  to-day,  as  if  h&  were  not 
present,  and  as  if  she  heard  not  a  word  of 
what  he  was  saying.  The  count  also  was 
so  abstracted  and  absent-minded,  that  he 
speedily  lost  all  the  games,  often  gazing  at 
him  with  wonderment,  sitting  there  in  the 
same  chair  that  Eric  had  occupied. 

A  new  ally  to  the  Wine-chevalier  made 
his  appearance,  but  this  was  also  of  no 
avail  to-day.  A  corpulent  man  dressed 
with  fastidious  nicety  likewise  called  at 
Wolfsgarten ;  he  was  formerly  a  famous 
basso,  who  had  married  a  rich  widow  from 
the  neighboring  commercial  city,  and  set- 
tled down  here  in  this  beautiful  region.  At 
other  times  he  was  well  received  by  Bella, 
for  he  sang  very  agreeably  with  the  rem- 
nant of  his  voice.  When  he  perceived  that 
his  greeting  to-day  was  not  so  cordial  as 
usual,  he  said  that  he  only  came  to  make  a 
passing  call,  and  Bella  was  vexed  so  much 
the  more ;  she  did  not  like  to  have  Wolfs- 
garten  regarded  as  a  place  for  casual  visits. 
When  both  had  departed,  Bella  and  Clod- 
wig  breathed  again  freely. 

Clodwig  went  into  the  cabinet,  where  he 
kept  the  collection  of  objects  that  had  been 
excavated  from  the  ground ;  but  all  here 
seemed  changed.  The  urns,  the  vases, 
the  lachrymatories,  swords,  necklaces,  and 
many  figures  in  relievo  looked  so  very  deso- 
late, and  a  warrior,  only  half  of  whose  face 
in  burnt  clay  could  be  dug  out,  wore  to-day 
such  a  hideous  visage. 

All  looked  so  forlorn,  as  if  these  thousand 
things,  brought  out  of  the  darkness  under 
ground  into  the  light,  were  making  their 
moan  to  Clodwig :  What  then  are  we  here 
for  ?  There  is  something  wanting  to  us,  — 
a  piece  to  each.  And  if  Clodwig  had  been 
able  to  exhibit  his  soul  with  all  its  emotions, 
he,  the  well-regulated,  would  have  had  no- 
thing but  potsherds  to  show.  Something 
was  wanting  to  him  since  Eric  rode  off. 

With  closed  lips,  and  restless  eyes  that 
seemed  to  be  in  search  of  something,  he 
went  all  day  long  through  house  and  park. 
Bella  succeeded  at  last,  in  bringing  him  to 
say  that  the  ideal  of  his  whole  life  might 
have  been  realized,  but  that  he  had  strangely 
wanted  the  requisite  energy.  He  com- 
plained, for  the  first  time,  of  feeling  the 
hesitancy  and  timidity  of  age.  He  made  a 
pause,  hoping  that  Bella  would  complete 
the  suggestion,  but  she  kept  silence ;  and 
in  a  very  roundabout  way,  he  explained 
that  people  indulged  in  many  luxuries,  and 
yet  not  the  right  ones.  Finally  he  came 
directly  to  the  point,  that  he  considered  it 
wrong  to.  have  permitted  Eric  to  depart,  he 
had  long  wished  for  such  a  man,  and  he 
might  venture  perhaps  to  say,  that  he  would 


also  contribute  to  the  advancement  of  the 
young  scholar  with  the  Apollo-form. 

The  upper  lip  of  Bella  quivered,  and  sh& 
said,  — 

"The  captain" — she  was  going  to  say, 
the  captain  in  Goethe's  "Elective  Affini- 
ties," and  stumbling  over  this  thought,  she 
continued  :  —  "  The  captain,  —  I  mean,  the 
doctor,  —  would  certainly  consider  himself 
very  fortunate.  But  —  we  ought  surely  to 
speak  openly.  I  have  the  happiness  of  a 
firmly  established  good  name,  and  we  do 
not  ask  what  people  say  —  " 

"  Speak  out  direct,"  Clodwig  said  en- 
couragingly, and  Bella  continued  after  she 
had  passed  a  fine  pocket-handkerchief  over 
her  face :  — 

"  Do  you  not  think  that  this  young  man 
—  would  often  —  how  shall  I  express 
it?" 

"Put  us  into  an  awkward  position?" 
suggested  Clodwig.  Bella  nodded,  but 
Clodwig  had  already  thought  that  matter 
over,  and  he  combated  the  notion,  dwelling 
upon  the  consideration  of  how  great  an 
enslavement  it  would  be  of  the  good,  if 
they  must  omit  doing  what  was  noble  be- 
cause the  bad  committed  the  basest  things 
under  the  cloak  of  deceit. 

Bella  now  advised  her  husband  to  send  a 
messenger  to  Eric  immediately,  so  that  he 
might  not  enter  into  any  engagement. 
Clodwig  pressed  her  hand,  and  went  into 
his  study,  with  an  elastic  step  not  often 
seen  in  him.  He  began  to  write  there, 
but  soon  came  to  Bella  and  said  that  he 
could  not  write,  and  the  simplest  thing  to 
do  was  to  order  the  carriage  and  drive  over 
at  once  to  Villa  Eden. 

Clodwig  avoided,  as  a  general  thing,  all 
immediate  connection  with  Sonnenkamp 
and  his  family,  so  far  as  it  was  possible 
with  the  intimacy  of  his  brother-in-law 
there,  but  to-day  nothing  was  said  of  this, 
and  they  drove  off  in  good  spirits. 

Frau  Bella  often  drew  her  veil  down 
over  her  face  and  raised  it  again  ;  she  was 
very  uneasy,  for  she  thought  over  a  great 
many  things,  and  when  she  noticed  the 
quick  beating  of  her  heart,  she  grasped 
hastily  her  husband's  hand,  saying,  — 

"Ah!  you  are  so  good,  so  angel-pure! 
I  could  never  have  believed  that  I  should 
be  continually  discovering  new  excellencies 
in  you." 

With  the  utterance  of  these  words  aloud, 
she  silenced  in  some  degree  the  voice 
speaking  within  her  what  she  was  not 
willing  to  acknowledge  to  herself,  — yes,  she 
consciously  disowned  it.  It  is  an  incom- 
prehensible whim,  a  freak  —  not  of  pas- 
sion, no  —  how  could  Bella  confess  that  of 


94 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


herself?  It  was  the  freak  of  an  evil  spirit ! 
This  young  man  must  possess  some  incom- 
prehensible, bewildering,  magic  influence ! 
Bella  hated  him,  for  he  had  disturbed  the 
quiet  of  her  husband,  and  now  was  at- 
tempting to  do  the  same  with  her.  He 
should  atone  for  that !  She  straightened 
herself  back  ;  she  was  resolved  to  interrupt 
the  childish,  enthusiastic  plan  of  her  hus- 
band by  the  very  means  of  her  going  with 
him,  and  if  Eric  did  not  perceive  her  op- 
position, she  would  acknowledge  it  in  so 
many  words,  and  thereby  induce  him  to  de- 
cline. 

Entertaining  this  thought,  she  looked  up 
again  in  a  cheerful  mood,  and  Clodwig,  per- 
ceiving it,  settled  upon  a  room  for  Eric, 
and  laid  out  the  new  household  arrange- 
ment. 

A  new  member  of  the  family  too  was  to 
be  added  for  Bella,  as  she  was  to  invite 
Eric's  mother  to  visit  them.  It  was  for- 
tunate that  Bella  had  already  known  her 
for  some  time  before,  and  held  her  in  high 
esteem.  Clodwig  informed  her  that  the 
Dournays  also  were  really  of  the  nobility, 
and  their  appellation  was  Dournay  de  Saint 
Mort,  and  that  they  had  dropped  the  title 
only  at  the  expulsion  of  the  Huguenots 
from  France,  and  he  would  see  to  it,  in 
case  Eric  made  a  suitable  marriage,  that 
his  title  was  renewed,  —  yes,  he  could  prob- 
ably do  more  in  his  behalf. 

Bella  asked  jokingly,  whether  he  might 
not  desire  to  adopt  him  as  a  son.  Clod- 
wig declared  that  he  was  not  disinclined  to 
do  so.  With  a  bitter  smile,  but  to  all  ap- 
pearance very  lively,  Bella  answered  that 
it  would  seem  very  strange  for  her  to  have 
a  son  only  a  few  years  younger  than  she 
was  herself. 

Now  the  disentombed  antiquities  danced 
joyously  before  the  eyes  of  Clodwig,  and 
indulged  in  all  sorts  of  antics.  Frau 
Bella,  on  the  other  hand,  was  exceedingly 
out  of  humor ;  it  was  a  perpetual  aston- 
ishment to  her,  that  her  husband  felt  so 
deep  an  interest  in  these  matters.  She 
had  not'  used  deception  when,  the  winter 
before  their  betrothal,  she  had  appeared 
to  be  a  cultivated  nature,  recognizing  the 
more  serious  depths  of  existence,  and  had 
manifested  an  interest  in  the  art-productions 
of  the  classic  age,  in  the  sciences,  and  in 
the  hierher  realities  of  life;  she  had,  in  fact, 
not  wilfully  misled  him,  for  she  had  always 
supposed  that  every  one  regarded  these  as 
conversational  topics,  proper  subjects  for 
small-talk.  And  in  regard  to  the  study  of 
the  historical  development  of  the  past  and 
the  present,  it  appeared  to  her  as  a  tacitly 
conventional  pastime. 


She  was  terror-stricken  to  perceive  that 
these  great  thoughts  constituted  her  hus- 
band's very  life,  that  he  sorrowed  and 
rejoiced  in  all  that  related  to  the  world's 
progress  as  in  family  occurrences,  and 
moreover  that  he  was  even  religious.  He 
did  not  speak,  as  she  did,  of  the  dear 
God,  but  he  would  remain  in  devout  con- 
templation at  every  manifestation  of  the 
Eternal  Providence,  and  wherever  a  con- 
tradiction, a  riddle,  presented  itself,  he  ex- 
perienced even  a  degree  of  feverish  dis- 
turbance. 

Bella  did  not  confess  to  herself  that  the 
whole  appeared  to  her  horribly  pedantic, 
like  a  preacher  or  a  pedagogue ;  she  had 
not  thought  that  she  was  to  marry  a  pedan- 
tic professor,  instead  of  a  live  man. 

But  whether  avowed  or  not,  this  whole 
matter  of  cherishing  a  so-called  higher 
interest  was  extremely  wearisome  to  her. 
Every  one  plays  only  his  part  in  life,  and  who 
is  to  regard  it  in  serious  earnest  ?  Those 
poor  devils,  the  scholars  and  the  philan- 
thropists, may  do  so,  if  they  please,  but  not 
a  man  of  a  higher  station.  Now  it  ap- 
peared that  Clodwig  was  ready  to  break  up 
a  regular  routine  existence,  tedious  indeed, 
but  yet  tranquil  and  honorable,  by  the  sud- 
den introduction  of  a  stranger.  It  was  pure 
calumny,  when  they  said  of  Bella  that  she 
had  married  the  count  in  the  hope  of  be- 
coming soon  a  rich  and  attractive  widow. 
The  old  Head-equerry  had  looked  out  for 
a  good  marriage  settlement,  and  a  certain 
part  of  the  income  of  the  great  estate  was 
retained  and  invested  yearly,  which  did  not 
go  to  the  heir  by  the  collateral  line.  As  I 
have  (aid,  it  was  unmitigated  slander  that 
Bella  htd  gone  to  the  altar  cherishing  a 
hope  of  widowhood,  but  to  her  alarm  —  she 
covered  it  up  whenever  she  became  con- 
scious of  it — she  found  herself  growing 
prematurely  old  by  the  side  of  her  hus- 
band, who  was  old  enough  to  be  her  father. 

And  who  knows  how  much  money  Clod- 
wig will  spend  upon  this  adventurer,  Dour- 
nay,  who  has  no  regular  occupation,  and 
besides,  is  not  in  favor  at  court !  But  the 
worst  is,  that  this  young  man,  with  his  con- 
fident expectation  of  success,  will  wholly 
withdraw  from  her  the  attention  of  her  hus- 
band. They  will  study  with  one  another, 
and  make  explorations,  whilst  thou  wilt  be 
sitting  all  alone,  thou,  the  young  and  fresh 
heart  that  has  devoted  itself  so  nobly,  so 
truly,  so  self-forgetting,  to  the  care  of  the 
old  man  ! 

Bella  was  sorely  vexed  at  Eric,  because 
he  made  her  entertain  evil  thoughts,  and 
suddenly,  while  looking  at  her  husband, 
she  cried,  — 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


95 


"  In  God's  name  !  Your  lips  are  white. 
What  is  the  matter?" 

Were  her  evil  thoughts  suddenly  to  be 
realized  ?    But  Clodwig  answered,  — 

"  It's  nothing.  Look  !  There  he  stands. 
What  a  wonderful  form!  I  fully  believe 
that  he  is  occupied  with  thoughts  of  deepest 
moment,  as  he  stands  there  dreamily,  gaz- 
ing down  at  the  grass." 

The  carriage  rolled  on.  Eric  heard  his 
name  called,  and  looked  in  amazement  at 
the  husband  and  wife,  who  gave  him  a  cor- 
dial greeting.  He  was  made  to  take  a  seat 
in  the  carriage,  and  Clodwig's  glance  to  his 
wife  said,  "  Hast  thou  ever  seen  a  nobler 
specimen  of  a  human  form  ?  " 

Eric  was  asked  whether  he  had  accepted 
definitely  the  situation,  and  when  he  re- 
plied in  the  negative,  Clodwig  extended  his 
hand  to  him,  and  said,  — 

"  You  will  find  a  welcome  with  me." 

Nothing  farther  could  be  said,  for  just 
then  Sonnenkamp  trotted  up  on  his  black 
horse,  and  he  was  extremely  glad  to  be 
able  to  salute  such  visitors ;  he  was  very 
much  surprised,  however,  to  see  Eric  on 
such  intimate  terms  with  them.  He  rode 
up  to  the  coach-door,  and  very  joyfully  and 
respectfully  welcomed  the  guests  to  the 
villa. 

Hardly  had  they  left  the  carriage,  when 
another  drove  into  the  court,  and  the  phy- 
sician got  out. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  FIRST  ROSE  IN  FREE-LAND. 

Eric  acquired  an  entirely  new  regard  by 
the  arrival  of  Clodwig  and  Bella.  For  the 
first  time  Sonnenkamp  called  him  44  dear 
friend." 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  offered  his  arm  to 
Bella,  which  she  accepted,  turning  slowly 
^toward  him,  that  Clodwig  might  see  how 
great  a  sacrifice  she  was  making ;  her  hand 
rested  lightly  on  Sonnenkamp's  arm.  As 
she  was  thus  walking  on,  holding  the  arm 
of  the  master  of  the  house,  she  stopped 
full  of  wonder,  for  there  was  a  rose  bloom- 
ing in  full  beauty  upon  a  rose-bush  raised 
in  the  Republic. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  hastened  to  pluck  it, 
and  presented  it  to  her  in  some  pretty 
words.  Bella  said  that  she  was  very  much 
obliged  to  him,  and  seemed  not  to  notice 
that  he  again  proffered  his  arm.  They 
went  at  once  to  the  hot-houses.  Joseph, 
who  was  always  present  at  the  right  time, 
as  if  specially  summoned,  received  from 
his  master  orders  to  inform  Fräulein  Perini 
and  Frau  Ceres  of  the  visit.  Joseph  un- 
derstood. 


The  doctor  had  been  summoned  to  Frau 
Ceres,  but  when  she  learned  what  guests 
had  arrived,  she  immediately  declared  that 
she  was  well ;  but  she  was  cunning  enough 
to  say  to  the  doctor,  that  merely  seeing  him 
had  made  her  well.  Doctor  Richard  under- 
stood. 

In  the  meantime,  Clodwig  had  said  to 
Eric,  "You  don't  remain  here;  you  go 
with  us.    I  can't  leave  you." 

He  jerked  the  words  out  briefly  and  rap- 
idly, as  one  utters  in  a  compressed,  uni- 
form tone  something  which  has  lain  in  his 
mind  for  a  long  time. 

Just  then,  Roland  came  down  the  moun- 
tain, with  his  camp-stool  and  drawing-board, 
and  Bella  called  out  to  him,  while  far  off,  in 
a  very  friendly  "  welcome." 

"  How  handsome  he  is  !"  said  she  to  those 
standing  about  her.  "He  who  could  fix  per- 
manently this  image  of  the  marvellous  boy 
as  he  is  coming  along,  would  have  a  pic- 
ture out  of  the  Grecian  age,  by  changing 
camp-stool  and  portfolio  into  spear  and 
shield." 

Bella  perceived  the  look  of  happiness  in 
Eric's  eyes,  and  said  to  him :  —  "  Yes,  Herr 
Doctor,  I  once  gave  to  an  artist  at  the  cap- 
ital the  design  for  a  picture  as  I  saw  Ro- 
land ;  he  had  sprung  across  the  road,  and 
had  cast  an  alms  into  the  hat  of  a  street- 
beggar  sitting  upon  a  heap  of  stones  ;  and 
as  he  sprang  back,  so  well  formed  and  grace- 
ful, every  muscle  stretched,  and  his  coun- 
tenance so  beaming  with  the  delight  of  be- 
neficence, it  was  a  wonderful  sight  that  can 
never  be  forgotten." 

Clodwig  looked  down  to  the  ground ; 
Bella  was  evidently  not  aware  that  it  was 
not  she,  but  he,  who  had  thus  seen  Roland 
and  given  the  order  to  the  artist. 

Roland  was  very  much  surprised  at  the 
visit,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  was 
greeted,  Bella  saying  to  her  husband,  — 
"Clodwig,  kiss  him  for  me!"  Clodwig 
embraced  the  youth,  who  now  turned  to 
Eric  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"If  the  Herr  Captain  remains  with  us, 
you  must  visit  us  often,  dear  Roland,"  said 
Bella. 

Sonnenkamp  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
that  meant,  but  the  danger  of  losing  Eric 
seemed  immediately  to  affect  the  youth,  so 
that  he  looked  up  in  a  help-imploring  way. 
And  it  was  now  clear  to  Eric,  what  was  in- 
tended in  regard  to  him,  and  he  now  for 
the  first  time  understood  what  was  inter- 
rupted by  Sonnenkamp's  coming  up  to  the 
carriage. 

They  took  only  a  hasty  look  at  the 
greenhouses,  for  Bella  said  that  when  it  was 
green  and  blooming  outside,  the  imprison- 


96 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ment  of  the  plants  had  something  oppressive 
to  her. 

Fraulein  Perini  soon  appeared,  sent  by 
Frau  Ceres,  to  make  known  her  intention 
not  to  be  sick  to-day. 

Bella  and  Fraulein  Perini  had  separated 
themselves  from  the  men  ;  they  had  much  to 
say  to  each  other,  and  Eric  was  naturally 
the  first  subject.  Bella  could  not  forbear 
expressing  her  surprise  to  Fräulein  Perini, 
that  she  had  so  completely  seen  through 
the  singular  man,  although  Fräulein  Perini 
had  not  really  yet  said  anything.  But  this 
remark  forced  her  to  reply,  though  nothing 
of  her  real  opinion  was  given  ;  for  Fräulein 
Perini  said  that  she  constantly  felt  fresh  ad- 
miration at  the  German  learned  world, 
meaning  to  include  Bella,  who  was  to  be 
almost  looked  upon  as  a  learned  woman. 

Bella  took  no  notice  of  this  equivocal 
compliment ;  she  assumed  a  matronly  tone, 
while  confessing  that  she  had  no  near  rela- 
tion to  the  young  men  of  the  day,  and  was 
not  sure  that  she  understood  them.  Nei- 
ther one  of  the  ladies  seemed  to  come  out 
fully  with  her  opinion,  and  each  appeared 
to  regard  the  other  as  cherishing  a  secret 
inclination  for  Eric. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Frau  Bella,  look- 
ing very  attentively  at  the  rose  which  Son- 
nenkamp had  given  her,  "  do  you  know 
that  this  man  with  the  double  title  has  an  in- 
sultingly low  opinion  of  the  female  sex  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not  know  that,  but  it  may  be 
a  part  of  that  radical  heresy,  as  Baron  von 
Pranken  calls  it,  which  he  parades  with 
such  manifest  conceit." 

"  But  what  opinion  have  you  formed 
about  Herr  Dournay  ?  " 

"I  have  not  formed  any  opinion  about 
him." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  am  not  impartial ;  he  does  not  belong 
to  our  church." 

"But  supposing  that  he  did  belong  to 
our  church,  how  would  you  then  regard 
him  ?  " 

"It  is  not  to  be  supposed.  This  compla- 
cent self-assumption  is  not  possible  with  a 
person  who  has  subjected  himself  to  the  di- 
vine law  ;  his  deportment  is  that  of  a  prince 
travelling  incog.,  or  more  properly,  as  Herr 
Baron  von  Pranken  says,  '  the  man  coaches 
round  the  world  in  a  lecturer's  invisible 
chair.1 " 

The  two  women  laughed.  Bella  had 
found  out  enough.  She  very  carefully  im- 
pressed upon  Fräulein  Perini  the  necessity 
of  exerting  all  her  influence  against  the  re- 
ception of  a  man  proud  of  his  unbelief. 
Fräulein  Perini  held  her  cross  with  her  left 
hand,  and  looked  somewhat  mischievously 


at  Bella.  Then  the  countess  does  not  wish 
to  have  him  here.  Is  she  trying  to  bring 
him  into  her  own  house,  and  getting  up  a 
nice  intrigue  against  her  husband?  She 
hinted,  not  without  mischievous  satisfaction, 
that  Herr  von  Pranken,  who  had  occasioned 
all  this,  must  also  find  the  proper  remedy. 
Bella  gave  out  also  that  Eric  was,  perhaps, 
unsuitable  in  another  view ;  and  here,  for 
the  third  time,  it  was  expressly  said,  that 
Eric  was  a  "  dangerous"  man. 

Fräulein  Perini  had  spoken  of  it  as  ap- 
plicable, in  two  respects,  to  one  present 
and  to  one  absent,  for  the  special  interest 
of  Bella  had  not  escaped  her  penetrating 
eye. 

Quickly,  and  in  order  to  conceal  how 
well  she  had  hit  the  mark,  she  added,  that 
a  man  like  Otto  von  Pranken  had  certainly 
no  one  to  be  afraid  of.  She  spoke  with 
sympathizing  eagerness  of  his  journey,  that 
perhaps  it  was  imprudent,  but  one  must  let 
the  passionate  youthful  heart  take  its  own 
course,  and  it  often  brought  about  the  right 
result  better  than  cautious  deliberation  and 
consideration.  But  Fräulein  Perini  spoke 
very  plainly,  and  Bella  replied  as  plainly, 
in  condemnation  of  Pranken's  desire  to  go 
counter  to  the  social  ordinances,  but  any 
such  tendency  must  be  indulged,  though 
with  great  reluctance  on  their  part. 

Again  the  conversation  reverted  to  Eric, 
and  Bella  was  now  extremely  good-hu- 
mored. She  pitied  the  man's  aged  mo- 
ther, regarded  the  self-conscious  bearing  of 
the  youth  as  in  reality  timidity ;  he  carried 
a  haughty  outside,  that  he  might  cover  up 
thereby  the  menial  dependence.  An  ele- 
vation of  the  eyelids  disclosed  that  Fräu- 
lein Perini  was  slightly  hurt,  and  Frau 
Bella  quickly  added,  that  pious  natures 
are  never  really  oppressed  by  dependence, 
for  they  have  in  themselves  a  higher  posi- 
tion, yes,  they  are  through  piety  constituted 
the  equals  of  anybody. 

Fräulein  Perini  smiled ;  she  understood 
how  kindly  Bella  treated  her,  and  there  was 
no  need  of  the  friendly  pressure  of  the 
hand  to  make  her  perceive  it. 

A  servant  came,  and  announced  that 
Frau  Ceres  would  receive  the  gracious 
countess  in  the  balcony-saloon  ;  she  was  not 
allowed  by  her  physician  to  go  out  into  the 
open  air. 

Fräulein  Perini  accompanied  Bella  as  far 
as  the  outside-stairs,  and  made  there  a  very 
polite  courtesy ;  Bella,  however,  grasped 
both  her  hands  with  irrepressible  cordiality, 
and  said  that  she  should  like  such  a  friend 
as  Fräulein  Perini  for  daily  intercourse ; 
she  pressingly  urged  her  to  confer  the 
honor  of  a  visit  without  any  delay. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


97 


When  the  rustling  of  Bella's  garments 
was  no  longer  heard,  Fräulein  Perini  clawed 
with  her  little  hand  like  a  cat,  which,  si- 
lently lurking,  has  caught  something ;  con- 
temptuously she  opened  her  eyes,  always 
so  veiled,  and  her  small  mouth  almost 
uttered  the  words, — 

44  You  are  all  deluded." 

Frau  Ceres  complained  of  her  constant 
suffering,  and  Frau  Bella  attempted  to 
console  her,  saying  that  she  had  everything, 
and  especially  such  splendid  children.  She 
knew  not  which  to  praise  most,  the  charm- 
ing attractions  of  Roland,  or  the  angelic  na- 
ture of  Manna. 

Bella  seldom  came  into  Sonnenkamp's 
house,  but  when  she  came  there,  she  was 
always  seized  by  a  passion  which  is  per- 
haps peculiarly  a  woman's  passion.  She 
lived  at  Wolfsgarten  in  an  abundance  which 
left  nothing  to  be  desired,  but  as  soon 
as  she  drove  through  the  gate  of  Villa 
Eden,  an  evil  spirit  came  over  her;  and 
the  demon's  name  is  Envy  —  envy  of  this 
exuberant  superfluity,  where  there  was  no 
dragging  along  under  the  burden  of  old 
lumber  and  decaying  remnants,  but  every- 
thing newly  created.  And  as  often  as  she 
thought  of  Frau  Ceres,  sparkles  flashed 
before  her  eyes,  for  she  saw  then  the  dia- 
mond ornaments  of  Frau  Ceres,  such  as  the 
reigning  princess  herself  did  not  possess. 

She  was  thoroughly  condescending  and 
gracious  to  Frau  Ceres,  and  she  was  happy 
that  she  could  be  condescending.  These 
people  can  buy  everything  for  themselves, 
but  not  a  noble,  historically  famous  name  ; 
and  if  the  proposal  of  Otto  succeeds,  it  is  only 
the  covering  up  of  lowness  with  a  fresh 
varnish,  which  is  always  begging,  "Do  not 
touch  me,  if  you  do,  I  shall  rub  off." 

Eric  was  here  also  naturally  a  prominent 
subject  of  conversation,  and  Frau  Bella 
pressed  the  rose  to  her  mouth,  in  order  to 
hide  her  laugh,  when  Frau  Ceres  said,  — 

44 1  should  like  to  have  the  Herr  Captain 
for  myself." 

44  For  yourself?  " 

* 4  Yes .  But  I  don't  think  I  can  learn  any- 
thing more,  I  am  too  old  and  too  stupid. 
He  hasn't  let  me  learn  anything." 

Frau  Bella  contested  very  zealously  this 
modesty.  Was  not  Frau  Ceres  beautiful 
and  young  ?  She  might  be  taken  indeed 
for  Roland's  sister.  Was  she  not  prudent 
and  elegant  in  her  deportment  ?  Frau 
Ceres  smiled  and  nodded  continually,  ap- 
pearing to  believe  that  it  was  all  true.  But 
now  Bella  felt  obliged  to  take  her  leave,  as 
she  desired  to  spare  the  delicate  organiza- 
tion of  Frau  Sonnenkamp. 

Frau  Ceres  looked  up  timidly  at  these 


words  ;  she  did  not  know  whether  that  was 
praise  or  blame.  Bella  took  leave,  kissing 
Frau  Ceres  upon  the  forehead . 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  had  left  the  count  and 
Eric ;  he  had  many  things  to  see  after  in 
the  house,  also  letters  and  despatches  had 
come  in,  which  required  an  immediate  an- 
swer. He  sent  moreover  for  the  Major  to 
dinner,  and  gave  orders  that  if  they  did  not 
find  him  at  home,  they  should  go  for  him 
to  the  castle. 

Clodwig  went  with  Roland  and  Eric  to 
their  room,  and  before  they  were  aware, 
they  became  engaged  so  earnestly  in  con- 
versation that  they  wholly  forgot  Roland. 
The  youth  sat  there  dumb,  looking  some- 
times at  one,  and  sometimes  at  the  other. 
He  did  not  understand  what  they  were  say- 
ing, but  he  could  feel  how  much  they  were 
enjoying.  When  Clodwig  had  retired  to 
his  own  room,  Roland  seized  Eric's  hand 
and  cried :  — 

44 1  will  also  learn,  I  will  also  study  all, 
whatever  you  want ;  I  want  to  be  like  you 
and  Clodwig." 

A  thrill  passed  through  Eric's  soul.  The 
invitation  from  Clodwig  was  exactly  the 
ideal  of  all  that  he  could  desire,  but  here 
was  an  actual  duty  of  life ;  he  could  not 
choose  any  longer  what  course  to  take. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
I  SERVE. 

The  Major  fortunately  came  as  they  were 
about  to  sit  down  to  dinner.  He  was  ex- 
tremely glad  to  meet  Clodwig  and  Bella 
here ;  every  manifestation  of  friendliness 
between  individuals  was  a  cordial  to  him : 
it  confirmed  his  proposition  that  all  human 
beings  were  immeasurably  good,  and  he 
could  thereby  silence  the  revilers  and  the 
doubters.  He  was  grateful  to  Clodwig  and 
Bella,  as  if  he  had  received  a  personal  fa- 
vor ;  he  looked  at  the  chairs  as  if  he  would 
enjoin  them  to  seat  right  comfortably  their 
occupants.  He  extended  his  hand  to  Eric 
as  to  a  son ;  he  had  become  thoroughly 
attached  to  him,  and  now  he  complained  to 
him,  with  the  tone  of  a  child  who  has  eaten 
dainties  by  stealth,  that  he  had  allowed  him- 
self to  be  enticed ;  for,  wishing  to  see  for 
himself  whether  the  workmen  at  the  castle 
had  good  food  to  eat,  he  had  made  trial  of 
it,  and  it  tasted  so  unexpectedly  good,  that 
he  had  completely  satisfied  his  appetite. 

Eric  comforted  him  with  the  suggestion, 
that  the  nice  dishes  might  yet  perhaps  find 
some  spare  room. 

The  Major  nodded ;  he  said  to  Joseph 
the  magic  word,  44  Allasch."  Joseph  un- 
derstood.   At  a  small  side-table  he  poured 


98 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


out  from  a  bottle  surrounded  by  little 
glasses  ;  the  Major  drank  off  the  tonic. 

"  That's  a  quartermaster ; 11  then  he  nod- 
ded to  Eric,  and  his  face  laughed  all  over, 
as  Eric  responded  :  — 

"  Of  course,  the  spirit  orders  the  vulgar 
mass  to  give  way." 

Frau  Ceres  did  not  come  to  dinner.  They 
had  hardly  taken  their  seats,  before  -the 
physician  was  called  away  ;  he  immediately 
rose.  Sonnenkamp  entreated  him  to  re- 
main, but  Clodwig  said  in  a  very  decided 
tone,  that  he  would  like  to  urge  him  to  obey 
the  summons,  for  if  one  placed  himself  in 
the  situation  of  those  who  were  expecting 
the  physician,  it  would  appear  a  cruel  thing 
to  be  detaining  him  here  meanwhile  for 
one's  own  enjoyment. 

"That  is  a  nobleman,  a  genuine  noble- 
man !  "  said  the  Major  to  Eric,  and  Roland, 
on  hearing  it,  looked  round  as  if  somebody 
had  suddenly  seized  hold  of  him.  Is  his 
father,  then,  not  noble,  for  desiring  the 
contrary  ? 

Eric  had  a  feeling  of  what  was  passing  in 
the  boy's  mind,  and  said  to  the  Major,  so 
that  Roland  could  not  but  hear  him,  — 

"Herr  Sonnenkamp  spoke  on  the  very 
just  supposition,  that  the  country  people 
very  often  exaggerate  the  danger,  and  need- 
lessly hurry  the  physician." 

"  That's  true.  I've  made  a  mistake,  —  I 
thank  you,  comrade." 

Roland  drew  a  long  breath,  he  gave  Eric 
a  smile ;  he  would  have  liked  to  embrace 
and  to  kiss  him. 

Eric  understood  this  smile.  The  table 
seemed  disturbed,  for  the  physician,  who 
had  easily  and  briskly  led  the  conversation, 
left  a  gap  by  his  departure ;  and  as  they 
were  obliged  to  sit  more  closely  together 
bodily,  in  order  to  fill  up  this  vacant  space, 
so  it  seemed  as  if  they  must  now  also  for 
the  first  time  draw  nearer  together  spirit- 
ually. And  the  call  made  upon  them  to 
go,  in  imagination,  with  the  physician  to 
the  bedside  of  a  moaning  patient,  'a,nd  to 
the  lamenting  relatives,  had  also  interrupted 
the  pleasant  mood  with  which  they  had 
seated  themselves  in  good  cheer  at  the 
table. 

Eric,  who  might  well  consider  that  the 
visit  of  Clodwig  and  Bella  was  meant  for 
him,  felt  under  a  double  obligation  to  en- 
tertain the  guests  as  well  as  he  could,  and 
bring  the  company  at  table  into  a  congenial 
mood.  But  while  he  was  yet  in  search  of 
some  thoughts  to  direct  the  general  conver- 
sation, the  Major  stole  a  march  upon  him. 

He  smiled  beforehand  very  pleasantly,  for 
he  had  something  to  tell,  and  now  was  the 
aptest  time. 


"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,"  he  began,  and  his 
face  again  became  blood-red,  for  he  had  to 
speak  in  the  presence  of  many  persons,  -s— 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  it  is  said  in  the  news- 
paper that  you  are  soon  to  receive  a  great 
number  of  visitors." 

"  I  ?    In  the  newspaper  ?  " 

"  Yes.  It  is  not  said  in  so  many  words, 
but  I  infer  so.  It  is  said  there,  that  an  emi- 
gration is  now  taking  place  from  America, 
on  account  of  the  high  cost  of  living  there ; 
many  families  are  coming  from  the  New 
World  to  Europe,  because  they  can  live 
with  us  at  more  reasonable  prices,  and  in  a 
pleasanter  way." 

The  Major  congratulated  himself,  that  he 
had  pushed  forward  into  the  gap  something 
very  agreeable  and  very  suitable.  He  drank 
off,  at  one  draught,  with  great  gusto,  a  glass 
of  his  favorite  Burgundy. 

Sonnenkamp  remarked  in  a  careless  way, 
that  probably  a  prejudice  would  be  created 
against  Americans,  like  that  which  existed 
against  English  travellers. 

No  one  again  took  up  the  conversation  ; 
they  would  gladly  have  heard  Clodwig  talk, 
but  he  was  constrained  from  the  feeling  that 
he  had  intruded  into  a  strange  house,  had 
there  sat  down  as  a  guest,  and  yet  all  the 
time,  he  was  intending  to  commit  a  theft. 
This  made  him  ill  at  ease  and  reserved. 

Eric  took  a  different  view  of  his  deport- 
ment. He  gave  a  fortunate  turn  to  the 
conversation,  referring  to  Goethe's  poem 
which  extolled  America  because  it  had  no 
ruined  castles,  and  passing  on  to  the  favor- 
ite pursuits  of  Clodwig  and  of  Sonnenkamp, 
and  indeed  drawing  a  parallel  between  a 
fondness  for  antiquity  and  for  the  rearing 
of  plants.  Eric  was  very  animated  and 
communicative,  introducing  matters  which 
he  knew  would  awaken  interest,  and  yet  in 
the  very  midst  of  his  talk  there  was  an  ac- 
companying feeling  of  self-reproach.  Until 
now,  throughout  his  whole  life,  he  had  sim- 
ply replied  to  questions  put  to  him,  and  had 
always  spoken  either  to  impart  something  to 
others,  or  to  enlighten  them ;  now  he  was 
speaking  with  the  view,  at  any  rate  with  the 
secondary  view,  of  appearing  well,  taking 
pleasure  in  the  effect  of  this  and  that  ex- 
pression. He  was  startled  when  he  be- 
came aware  of  it,  and  continued  speaking 
further.  He  repelled  the  reproachful  sug- 
gestion, saying  to  himself  that  it  was  really 
his  duty  to  play  the  part  of  host.  •  His  eyes 
glistened,  and  he  brought  Sonnenkamp  and 
Clodwig  into  a  state  of  pleasant  animation. 

The  ladies  also  received  their  share.  But 
Bella  had  a  manner,  —  and  since  she  had  it, 
it  must  be  well-mannered,  —  when  she  was 
not  leading  the  conversation,  —  no  mattei 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


99 


who  was  speaking,  or  what  was  spoken 
about,  —  a  manner  of  introducing  into  the 
little  circle,  where  it  was  a  disturbing  ele- 
ment, a  dialogue  with  the  person  sitting 
next  to  her,  and  hindering  him,  even  if  he 
wished  to  do  so,  from  falling  into  the  gen- 
eral stream  of  conversation. 

Eric  had  vanity  enough  to  make  him  note 
her  want  of  interest ;  it  vexed  him  at  first, 
but  afterwards  he  thought  no  more  about  it. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  was  very  well  satisfied 
with  the  family-tutor,  who  not  only  made  a 
good  appearance  in  his  own  sphere,  and 
gave  to  him  the  rightful  consideration,  but 
whose  very  presence  was  an  ornament  of 
the  house,  and  brought  to  his  table  the  no- 
blest of  the  land. 

Clodwig  again  requested  that  he  might 
be  immediately  informed  of  every  remains 
of  Roman  Antiquities  discovered  in  the  res- 
toration of  the  castle  ;  Sonnenkamp  prom- 
ised it  with  readiness,  and  gave  an  extremely 
humorous  account  of  the  silly  motives  attrib- 
uted to  him  for  rebuilding  the  castle. 
Some  said  he  wished  to  figure  in  "  Biide- 
ker's  Traveller's  Manual,"  which  people 
carried  with  them  in  the  summer  season, 
when  they  passed  up  and  down  the  river, 
so  that  the  castle  might  be  pointed  at,  and 
the  bored  English,  with  finger  upon  the  line 
of  the  book,  might  gape  at  it  awhile  with 
open  mouth  ;  but  that  really  an  aesthetic  rea- 
son determined  him.  He  honestly  confessed 
that  he  intended,in  rebuilding  the  castle,  to 
give  a  harmonious  finish  to  the  view  from  his 
work-room  window,  desiring  at  the  same 
time  to  make  some  contribution  to  the  beauty 
of  the  German  fatherland. 

There  was  always  a  peculiar  tang  in  Son- 
nenkamp's  utterance  of  these  words,  "  Ger- 
man fatherland ;  "  one  could  detect  therein 
something  like  deep-seated  savage  hate,  and 
yet  the  tone  was  rather  that  of  tender  pity 
and  commiseration.  Sonnenkamp  knew 
that  Clodwig  was,  of  all  things  else,  a  pa- 
triot, and  he  was  ready  to  strike  this  chord. 
Eric  looked  at  Roland,  to  see  if  he  noticed 
the  hypocrisy,  for  it  was  no  longer  ago  than 
Sunday,  that  Sonnenkamp  had  expressed 
himself  so  strangely  and  contemptuously, 
when  the  conversation  turned  on  the  sub- 


ject of  voting.  But  Roland's  features  were 
motionless. 

In  one  view,  it  was  encouraging  that  the 
inconsiderate  mind  of  the  youth  did  not  per- 
ceive the  contradiction ;  while  in  another, 
Eric  saw  here  an  enhancement  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  his  work  as  an  educator ;  it  was  in- 
deed his  principal  problem,  to  awaken  and 
to  establish  in  the  mind  of  his  pupil  the  con- 
secutiveness  and  interlinking  of  all  thought 
and  all  action. 

Sonnenkamp  expatiated,  too,  on  the  many 
strange  things  imputed  to  him  ;  and  yet  no 
one  had  really  made  the  charge  :  but  he  him- 
self, together  with  Pranken,  had  spread  the 
report,  that  he  was  desirous  of  giving  his 
own  name  to  the  castle,  the  line  of  the  orig- 
inal family  having  long  since  become  ex- 
tinct. It  was  reported  that  the  Rauhenberg 
coat  of  arms  was  not  accurately  known,  and 
yet  that  it  was  purposed  to  place  it  again 
over  the  entrance  of  the  restored  castle. 

Clodwig,  who  prided  himself,  notwith- 
standing all  his  liberality,  in  knowing  the 
genealogy  of  all  the  princely  and  noble 
families,  with  their  coats  of  arms,  affirmed 
that  the  Rauhenberg  coat  of  arms  was  un- 
mistakably certain,  and  that  it  had  as  a  de- 
vice a  Moor's  head  on  a  blue  ground  in  the 
left  field,  and  in  the  right,  a  pair  of  scales. 
The  family  had  greatly  distinguished  itself 
in  the  crusades,  and  had  been  at  that  time 
invested  with  a  high  judicial  function. 

Sonnenkamp  smiled  in  a  very  friendly 
manner,  and  he  almost  grinned,  as  he  re- 
quested the  count  to  favor  him,  as  soon  as 
possible,  with  a  drawing. 

Eric's  rich  store  of  knowledge  was  again 
a  matter  of  surprise,  as  he  excited  attention 
by  the  information  he  gave  concerning  ar- 
morial mottoes. 

^  They  were  in  very  good  spirits  whilst  as- 
signing to  some  one  of  their  circle  of  ac- 
quaintance one  and  another  motto,  which 
sometimes  seemed  a  laughable  contrast  to 
the  real  character,  and  sometimes  a  striking 
expression  of  it. 

"  What  motto  would  you  select  for  your- 
self?"  Sonnenkamp  asked  Eric;  and  he 
gave  for  a  reply  these  two  simple  words :  — 
M  I  serve." 


100 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
A  DOUBLE  RESCUE. 

It  happened,  as  if  by  accident,  that  Eric 
and  Frau  Bella  walked  together,  and  Bella 
tried  a  little  experiment  to  see  in  what  di- 
rection it  would  be  safe  to  venture,  by  re- 
marking that  she  was  surprised  at  Eric's 
understanding  her  good  husband  so  thorough- 
ly, for  it  was  not  so  easy  to  live  with  him 
as  it  seemed.  She  said  this  very  warily, 
and  it  might  be  taken  for  simple  praise. 
Eric  replied :  — 

"  The  world  is  so  much  the  more  indebted 
to  you,  gracious  lady,  for  the  count  has 
gained  new  youth  through  you." 

Bella  nodded.  Eric  had  quietly  and  se- 
curely taken  the  first  step  toward  a  good 
understanding ;  to  recognize  her  sacrifice 
was  a  delicate  politeness  on  his  part.  She 
went  on  to  speak  very  enthusiastically  of 
Clodwig,  and  of  her  happiness  in  being  able 
to  do  anything  towards  cherishing  a  pure 
spirit,  without  making  any  demand  for  her- 
self. It  was  so  beautiful  to  sacrifice  one's 
self,  to  serve  quietly,  unrecognized  and  un- 
noticed ;  and  here  there  came  in  a  word 
about  the  childlike  '  mind,  so  placed  that 
Eric  could  apply  all  she  had  said  to  his  vo- 
cation as  a  teacher. 

Eric  expressed  his  agreement  with  her, 
simply  and  without  embarrassment,  and 
Frau  Bella  could  not  tell  whether  he  had 
really  not  understood  her,  or  whether  he 
chose  to  seem  not  to  understand.  She 
knew  how  to  intimate  with  delicacy  how 
difficult  it  was  to  deal  with  just  such  a  man 
as  Clodwig,  though  he  seemed  so  unexact- 
ing  and  so  yielding ;  she  begged  Eric  to  help 
her  in  making  the  evening  of  his  days  com- 
pletely happy ;  she  said  all  this  with  a  tone 
of  feeling  which  was  not  to  be  mistaken. 

Eric  expressed  his  doubt  whether  it 
would  be  well  to  disturb  so  peaceful  a  life 
by  the  introduction  of  a  third  person  ;  he 
acknowledged  that  he  was  still  wanting  in 
tact,  was  capricious,  and  passionate. 

"You  are  so  sincere  that  you  have  no 
need  of  being  diffident,"  answered  Bella. 

She  looked  searchingly  at  Eric ;  her  fan 
fell,  and  as  he  picked  it  up  she  gave  him 
her  hand  in  thanks.  With  much  tact  and 
elegance  of  expression,  but  with  emotion 
which  made  her  breast  heave,  she  extolled 
the  good  fortune  which  allowed  her  to  de- 
vote herself  to  a  noble  man,  and  to  have  a 
friend  who  thoroughly  understood  her. 
Eric  could  not  tell  whether  the  latter  part 
of  her  remark  applied  to  him  or  to  Clodwig. 

"There  he  comes !  "  cried  Bella  sudden- 
ly. "  See,  it  is  a  peculiarity  of  his  never 
to  carry  a  cane,  though  he  needs  it." 


She  went  to  meet  her  husband,  and  he 
turned  his  steps  towards  her.  Clodwig 
seated  himself  under  a  fine  cedar,  where 
pretty  rustic  chairs  were  placed ;  Eric  and 
Bella  stood  before  him.  And  now  Clodwig 
explained  his  whole  plan,  painting  so  at- 
tractively the  pleasantly  busy  life  which 
they  would  lead  together,  that  Eric's  cheeks 
glowed.  In  a  voice  full  of  emotion  he  ex- 
pressed his  gratitude,  and  said  that  he  felt 
bound  by  duty  to  the  decision  which  his 
heart  had  made. 

Bella  rested  one  hand  on  Clodwig's  chair, 
and  Eric  went  on  to  say  that  he  rejoiced 
that  anything  so  attractive  had  been  offered 
him,  because  he  derived  thence  an  assur- 
ance that  he  had  chosen  the  right  course, 
that  which  accorded  with  his  duty.  A  great 
and  difficult  task  was  laid  upon  him  in  Ro- 
land's education,  and  the  very  fact,  that  so 
different  and  charming  a  life  was  now 
opened  to  him,  made  him  happy  by  renew- 
ing and  confirming  his  confidence  in  his 
decision ;  and  the  offered  alternative  helped 
him  to  recognize  his  choice  as  a  real  duty. 

For  a  while  Clodwig  looked  down,  and 
Bella,  taking  her  hand  from  his  chair,  stood 
suddenly  erect.  Then,  as  Eric  represented 
his  delight  in  Roland,  and  the  mysterious, 
happy  attraction  which  he  felt  towards  him, 
even  towards  his  faults,  Clodwig  smiled,  as 
he  looked  up  into  the  branches,  for  just  as 
Eric  felt  drawn  to  Roland  with  enthusiastic 
love,  he  was  drawn  to  Eric ;  the  sentiments 
were  exactly  analogous.  Yet  he  was  un- 
willing to  give  Eric  up,  and  pointed  out  to 
him  again  that  he  could  not  cut  off  all  other 
influences  in  educating  Roland,  but  that  he 
would  have  to  contend  with  elements  which 
perhaps  he  could  never  conquer. 

"  Ah,  there  comes  the  doctor,"  he  inter- 
rupted himself ;  "  are  you  willing  to  call  in 
a  third  person  to  the  decision  ?  " 

"  No  one  but  myself  can  make  the  de- 
cision," answered  Eric,  "  however  difficult 
it  may  be ;  but  I  have  not  the  least  objec- 
tion to  entrust  the  office  of  umpire  to  our 
friend." 

This  was  done ;  but,  to  the  surprise  of 
all,  the  physician  decided  against  both  par- 
ties ;  he  expressed  his  wish  that  some  one 
would  enable  Eric  to  see  Italy  and  Greece. 

Before  Clodwig  could  answer,  Eric  inter- 
posed, saying  that  he  was  bent  on  finding 
some  employment,  so  that  he  could  support 
himself  and  his  mother  from  his  own  means. 

Rising  with  difficulty,  Clodwig  said,  — 

"  Young  friend,  give  me  your  arm."  He 
stood  erect,  and  turned  toward  Eric,  on 
whose  arm  his  hand  lay  heavy  and  tremb- 
ling. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  he,  "I  should  not 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


101 


think  I  was  the  man  who  had  been  through 
such  hard  experience  as  I  have ;  I  am  to- 
day undergoing  a  bitter  experience.  Is  it 
old  age  which  makes  it  so  difficult  for  me 
to  give  up  a  desire  ?  I  have  learned  to  do 
so  before  now.  Yes,  yes  ;  a  man  becomes 
childish  — childish  ;  a  child  cannot  give  up." 

He  leaned  heavily  on  Eric,  who  was 
shaken  to  the  depth  of  his  soul  by  the 
emotion  of  the  noble  man.  He  did  not  know 
what  to  reply,  and  Clodwig  continued :  — 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  knew  not  where  I  am. 
Do  you  not  think  it  is  very  close  ?  " 

"  No.    Will  you  not  sit  down  ?  11 

Hastily  loosing  his  hold  of  Eric's  arm  to 
pass  his  hand  over  his  face,  Clodwig  said, — 

"  My  young  friend,  when  I  die  —  " 

Hardly  had  he  uttered  the  word,  when  he 
sank  down ;  Eric  caught  him  in  his  arms. 
Bella,  who  was  walking  behind  with  the 
physician,  uttered  a  cry  ;  the  physician  hur- 
ried to  the  spot ;  Eric  stooped,  raised  Clod- 
wig in  his  arms  like  a  child  —  all  this  was 
the  work  of  a  moment. 

Clodwig  was  carried  into  the  great  draw- 
ing-room, and  laid  upon  a  sofa.  Bella 
sobbed  aloud,  but  the  doctor  soothed  her. 
He  had  a  remedy  with  him  which  soon  re- 
stored Clodwig  to  consciousness  ;  he  begged 
Eric  and  Bella  to  leave  the  room  as  soon  as 
the  count  had  spoken. 

Outside,  Bella  threw  herself  on  Eric's 
breast,  and  he  trembled  as  he  felt  her 
breath  on  his  face,  and  a  thrill  ran  through 
him  as  the  beautiful  woman  leaned  upon 
him  in  such  passionate  and  unrestrained 
excitement. 

"You  are  our  helper,  our  friend  in 
need  !    O  my  friend,  my.  friend  !  M 

Sonnenkamp  entered  hastily,  and  Bella, 
standing  erect,  with  wonderful  composure 
addressed  him,  saying,  — 

"Herr  Sonnenkamp!  our  mutual  friend, 
Captain  Dourhay,  is  a  blessing  to  us  all ; 
with  the  strength  of  a  giant  he  carried  my 
husband.    Thank  him  with  me." 

Eric  was  astonished  at  this  rapid  recov- 
ery of  self-control. 

The  physician  came  out,  and  Sonnen- 
kamp asked  anxiously,  — 

"  How  is  he  ?  how  is  he  ?  " 

His  mind  was  set  at  rest  by  the  doctor's 
declaration  that  it  had  been  a  very  slight 
attack,  which  would  have  no  bad  conse- 
quences. Clodwig  requested  that  Eric 
would  come  to  him. 

Eric  entered  the  drawing-room.  Clodwig 
sitting  upright  held  out  his  hand  to  Eric, 
saying,  with  a  wonderfully  bright  smile,  — 

"  I  must  finish  my  sentence  ;  I  was  going 
to  say :  When  I  die,  my  young  friend,  I 
should  like  to  have  you  near  me.  But 


don't  be  anxious,  it  will  not  be  for  a  long 
time  yet.  There,  now  sit  down  by  me. 
Where  is  my  wife  ?  " 

Eric  went  to  call  her,  and  she  entered, 
with  the  physician  and  Sonnenkamp. 

The  doctor  was  not  only  willing,  but 
expressly  desired  that  Bella  and  Clodwig 
should  return  directly  to  Wolfsgarten. 
Sonnenkamp  raised  various  objections, 
wishing  to  keep  his  noble  guests  with  him, 
and  saying  with  great  hospitality,  — 

"  Consider  my  house  exactly  as  if  it 
were  your  own." 

"  Will  you  permit  Herr  Dournay  to  ac- 
company us  ?  "  asked  Clodwig. 

Sonnenkamp  started  as  he  answered 
quickly,  — 

"  I  have  no  permission  to  give  the  cap- 
tain, but  if  you  are  determined  to  go,  I 
would  ask  him  as  a  favor  to  accompany 
you,  with  a  promise  of  returning  to  us." 

"You  will  go  with  us  also?"  begged 
Bella  of  the  physician,  who  assented. 

So  the  four  drove  off  through  the  mild 
spring  night ;  little  was  said,  though  once 
Clodwig  seized  Eric's  hand,  with  the  words, 
"  You  are  very  strong." 

Eric  and  the  doctor  spent  the  night  at 
Wolfsgarten.  •  In  the  early  morning,  the 
physician  prepared  for  departure  while 
Eric  was  still  sleeping  soundly ;  he  woke 
him  and  said,  — ' 

"  Doctor,  remain  here  to-day,  but  no 
longer." 

Eric  stared  at  him. 

"  Did  you  understand  me  ?  " 
■  "Yes." 

"  Now,  good-bye." 

Again  Eric  spent  a  whole  day  at  Wolfs- 
garten.  Clodwig  was  as  cheerful  and  serene 
as  ever ;  Bella's  bearing  toward  Eric  was 
shy,  almost  timid. 

In  the  evening  Sonnenkamp  and  Roland 
rode  over,  and  Eric  returned  with  them  to 
Villa  Eden.  Sonnenkamp  was  in  very 
good  spirits,  and  the  blood  mounted  to 
Eric's  face  as  he  said,  looking  sharply  at 
him,  — 

"  Countess  Bella  will  make  a  beautiful 
widow." 

On  the  evening  of  the  following  day  the 
physician  appeared  again  at  Villa  Eden; 
he  had  been  at  Wolfsgarten  and  brought 
a  good  report.  He  took  Eric  aside,  and 
said,  — 

"  You  have  confided  to  me  that  you 
neither  expect,  nor  will  accept  in  a  per- 
sonal interview,  a  decisive  answer  from 
Herr  Sonnenkamp.  I  approve  of  that ;  it 
can  be  much  better  settled  by  letter.  You 
will  see  more  clearly,  away  from  him,  and 
so  will  he.    So  I  advise  you  to  leave  the 


102 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


house ;  every  hour  that  you  remain  is  your 
ruin.'" 

"My  ruin?"    Eric  was  startled. 

The  physician  said,  smiling,  — 

"  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  this  forced  exhibi- 
tion of  yourself,  which  has  now  lasted  al- 
most a  week,  is  injuring  you." 

He  continued,  after  a  pause,  — 

"No  man  can  be  on  parade  for  a  week 
without  receiving  some  harm.  You  must 
go  away,  or  you  will  become  an  actor,  or 
a  preacher,  or  both  together.  You  re- 
peat what  you  have  learned,  and  repeat  it 
with  the  conscious  purpose  of  producing 
a  given  effect.  Therefore  away  with  you  ! 
you  have  been  examining,  and  examined, 
long  enough.  Come  with  me,  spend  the 
night  at  my  house ;  to-morrow  return  to 
your  mother,  and  wait  quietly  for  what 
may  come  next." 

"  But  Roland,"  asked  Eric,  "how  can  I 
leave  the  boy  behind  ?  His  heart  has  turned 
to  me,  as  mine  has  to  him." 

"  That's  well,  very  well.  Then  let  him 
wait  and  long  for  you.  Let  him  learn  that 
the  rich  cannot  have  everything.  Let  him 
feel  obliged  to  sue  for  you.  All  that  will 
give  you  a  power  of  incalculable  influence 
in  the  family  and  over  your  pupil.  Let 
me  act  for  you  now ;  to-morrow  morning 
you  will  see  with  my  eyes." 

"  There  is  my  hand.  I'll  go  with  you !  " 
answered  Eric. 

There  was  great  surprise  in  the  house 
when  the  announcement  of  Eric's  sudden 
departure  was  made ;  an  hour  had  scarcely 
elapsed  when  he  entered  the  physician's 
carriage. 

Eric  was  glad  that  his  leave-taking  of 
Roland  was  hurried.  The  boy  could  not 
understand  what  had  happened  ;  his  emotion 
prevented  him  from  speaking.  After  Eric 
had  seated  himself  in  the  doctor's  carriage, 
Roland  came  with  one  of  the  puppies  and 
laid  it  in  his  lap,  tout  the  physician  gave  it 
back,  saying  that  he  could  not  take  it,  it 
was  too  young  to  be  taken  from  the  mother  ; 
but  he  would  see  that  Eric  should  have  it 
eventually. 

Roland  gazed  wonderingly  after  the  de- 
parting guests.  In  the  boy's  heart  there 
was  a  confused  whirl  of  all  the  feelings 
which  he  had  experienced  in  the  few  days 
since  Eric's  arrival ;  but  Eric  did  not  look 
back.  In  his  father's  house  the  boy  felt  as 
if  abandoned  in  a  strange  land.  He  took 
the  young  dog  by  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and 
was  about  to  throw  it  from  him,  but  the 
puppy  whimpered  pitifully,  and  he  pressed 
it  to  his  breast,  saying, — "Be  quiet, 
nothing  is  hurting  you  ;  but  I'm  not  a  dog, 
and  I  don't  whine,  now  don't  you  whine 


any  more  either.  He  didn't  want  either  of 
us."  Roland  carried  the  dog  to  its  mother, 
who  was  very  glad  to  see  her  pup  again. 

"  I'll  go  to  my  mother,  too,"  said  Roland  ; 
but  he  had  first  to  be  announced.  She  al- 
lowed him  to  enter,  and  when  he  lamented 
that  Eric  had  gone  so  suddenly,  she  said,  — 

"  That's  right ;  I  advised  him  to  go." 

"You?  Why?" 

"  Oh,  your  stupid  why !  One  can't  be  al- 
ways answering  your  why  !  " 

Roland  was  silent,  and  his  mother's  kiss 
almost  pained  him. 

He  wanted  to  go  to  his  father,  but  found 
that  he  had  driven  to  the  castle  with  the 
Major. 

Deserted  and  lonely,  he  stood  in  the 
court ;  at  last  he  went  into  the  stable,  sat 
down  by  his  dogs  and  watched  their  amus- 
ing actions ;  then  he  went  to  his  horse,  and 
stood  quietly  leaning  on  his  neck  for  a  long 
time.  Strange  thoughts  rolled  tumultuously 
through  the  boy's  brain.  The  horse  and  dog 
are  yours ;  only  what  one  can  buy  and  pos- 
sess is  his  own. 

Like  a  flash  of  lightning,  just  seen,  then 
gone  again,  there  woke  in  the  boy's  soul  the 
idea  that  nothing  but  love  can  give  one  hu- 
man being  possession  of  another.  He  was 
not  used  to  steady  thinking,  and  this  into 
which  he  had  fallen  brought  on  a  real  head- 
ache. He  had  his  horse  saddled,  and  rode 
off  over  the  road  which  Eric  and  the  doctor 
had  taken. 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE   PRACTICAL  NATURE. 

Eric  sat  quiet  and  thoughtful  by  the 
doctor's  side,  and  was  disturbed  by  no  word 
from  him,  seeming  to  himself  to  be  driven 
hither  and  thither  by  wind  and  wave.  A 
few  days  before,  he  had  ridden  to  this  place 
on  a  stranger's  horse,  and  now  he  sat  in  a 
stranger's  carriage ;  he  had  become  inter- 
mingled with  the  life  and  destiny  of  so 
many  persons,  and  this  could  no  longer 
count  for  anything  in  his  and  their  exist- 
ence. He  could  not  anticipate,  however, 
that  an  unexpected  event  was  awaiting 
him. 

"  You  believe  then  in  education?  "  asked 
the  doctor  at  last. 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean." 

"  I  place  no  dependence  whatever  on  ed- 
ucation ;  men  become  what  nature  fits  them 
to  be.  They  attain,  under  all  relations, 
what  is  called  their  destiny.  As  the  hu- 
man being  lies  in  his  cradle,  so  he  lies  in 
his  coffin.  Some  little  help  comes  from 
talents  and  capabilities,  but  as  a  whole  they 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


103 


are  only  incidental ;  the  natural  bias  gives 
the  home  blow." 

Eric  had  no  heart  to  enter  upon  these 
discussions  ;  he  was  weary  of  this  everlast- 
ing game  of  words. 

The  doctor  continued :  — 

"  I  have  a  peculiar  grudge  against  these 
people ;  it  vexes  me  that  these  rich  people 
should  buy  for  themselves  the  fragrant 
fruits  of  higher  culture ;  then,  again,  I  am 
consoled  by  the  word  of  Him  who  stood  at 
the  very  centre  of  thought,  and  said,  '  A 
rich  man  cannot  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.'  The  rich  are  too  heavily  ballasted ; 
they  have  a  pampered  existence,  they  are 
removed  far  from  the  actual  needs  of  life, 
and  they  withdraw  themselves  from  the 
natural  influences  of  the  seasons;  they 
flit  into  different  climates  and  out  of 
them  again,  and  everywhere  they  have 
comfortably  prepared  swallow-nests.  It 
would  be  an  intolerable  heartlessness  of 
fate,  if,  without  any  irksome  toil,  they 
are  to  have  also  the  higher  joys  as  a  pos- 
session, which  belong  alone  to  us." 

"  There  is  no  royal  road  to  geometry,  is 
Euclid's  saying,"  Eric  interposed;  "sci- 
ence and  knowledge  are  acquired  only 
through  labor,  and  what  I  want  to  do  with 
this  boy  can  all  be  comprehended  in  one 
word :  I  want  to  give  him  self-activity." 

"  Just  so,"  replied  the  physician  ;  "  yes, 
that's  it !  we  who  live  to  the  spirit  have  the 
advantage  over  the  rich  in  this  respect, 
that  we  are  alone  by  ourselves ;  the  rich 
man  does  not  know  the  silent  growth  in  the 
dewy  stillness  of  solitude ;  he  always  has  so 
much,  he  nevar  has  himself,  and  never  him- 
self alone.  This  is  what  I  understand  by 
that  verse  of  the  Bible,  1  What  shall  it  profit 
thee,  if  thou  shalt  gain  the  whole  world,  and 
lose  thine  own  soul?  That  is  to  say,  Art 
never  alone  in  thyself,  with  thyself?  He 
who  has  nowhere  to  lay  his  head,  he  can 
yet  carry  his  head  high  and  free.  You  see 
it  was  to  some  purpose  that  I  studied  the- 
ology for  two  years,  until  I  came  to  see 
that  though  much  cannot  be  effected,  yet 
more  is  to  be  done  by  practising  quackery 
on  the  body,  than  on  the  soul." 

The  doctor  could  not  speak,  he  laughed 
so  heartily.    At  last  he  said, — 

"  The  great  question  always  is,  how  re- 
ceptivity itself  confers  upon  one  all  that  is 
desirable.  That  would  be  your  principal 
task,  to  awaken  and  to  perfect  in  Roland 
his  power  of  receptivity.  He  must  first  of 
all,  be  taught  in  a  regular  way.  In  what  he 
knows  of  the  world,  he  is  yet  a  child,  and 
in  what  he  desires  of  the  world,  he  is  a  man, 
one  may  say  a  live  man." 

Eric  had  much  to  say  in  reply,  but  he 


smiled  to  himself,  for  he  thought  how  easy 
it  is  to  theorize.  The  doctor  had  justly 
found  fault  with  him  for  enlarging  upon  so 
many  topics,  and  now  he  was  to  perceive 
that  he  could  be  silent.  He  said  nothing, 
and  the  doctor  continued  :  — 

"  As  to  the  rest,  I  can  tender  you  effect- 
ual aid,  if  you  conclude  to  accept  the  posi- 
tion. Pity  that  ypu  are  not  a  medical  man  ; 
as  I  look  at  it,  no  one  but  a  physician 
should  be  an  educator.  Have  you  taken 
notice  that  the  young  fellow  has  a  poor  di- 
gestion ?  a  young  man  in  these  times  ought 
to  be  able  to  digest  pebble-stones  !  I  can- 
not bring  it  about  that  only  simple  kinds 
of  food  should  be  given  him.  The  noble 
and  the  rich  eat  without  hunger,  and  drink 
without  thirst.  This  young  man  can  have 
everything  but  one  real,  substantial  en- 
joyment. It  is  a  small  matter,  but  take  it 
just  for  an  example :  Roland  receives  no 
enjoyment  from  new  clothes.  Now  strike 
this  joy  out  of  your  childhood,  out  of  your 
youth.  I  must  confess,  that  I  can  take 
pleasure  for  weeks  in  a  well-fitting  gar- 
ment, as  often  as  I  put  it  on.  What  are 
you  smiling  at  ? "  the  physician  interrupted 
himself. 

"I  am  thinking  of  a  theological  friend," 
answered  Eric.  "  How  he  would  be  aston- 
ished, if  any  one  should  say  to  him,  that 
the  fall,  which  brought  with  it  the  con- 
sciousness of  nakedness,  has  become  the 
very  foundation  of  all  the  enjoyment  that 
comes  from  weaving,  making,  and  sewing 
clothes." 

The  doctor  smiled  too,  but  he  stuck  to 
his  subject,  and  went  on, — 

"Food  and  clothes  are  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance, but  the  third  most  important 
thing  is  sleep ;  it  is  the  regulator  of  life. 
Air,  nourishment,  and  sleep  are  the  three 
fundamental  conditions  of  vegetative  life. 
I  believe,  captain,  that  I  know  something 
about  you  already,  but  I  cannot  pronounce 
a  full  verdict  upon  you,  until  I  have  seen 
you  sleep.  Our  nineteenth  century  sleeps 
poorly ;  our  education,  our  labor,  and  our 
politics  ought  to  be  so  arranged  that  peo- 
ple can  once  more  get  better  sleef).  I 
should  like  to  be  able  to  write  a  history  of 
sleep,  showing  how  different  nations  and 
different  ages  have  slept;  that  would  lay 
bare  to  us  the  deepest  roots  of  all  the  man- 
ifestations of  civilization.  As  far  as  re- 
gards Roland,  there  is  in  him  a  strange 
blending  of  temperaments  from  the  father's 
and  the  mother's  constitution." 

The  doctor  pictured  out  the  muscular  or- 
ganization of  Sonnenkamp,  and  the  strug- 
gle he  was  obliged  to  make  every  moment 
with  his  violent  natural  tendencies.  1 '  A  cer- 


104 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


tain  indomitable  energy  in  him  always  en- 
ters a  disclaimer  against  bis  mildness,  which 
is  at  once  seen  to  be  a  result  of  self-com- 
pulsion and  of  voluntary  effort.  He  is  a 
suppressed  pugilist,  and  he  has  in  fact,  as 
he  once  himself  boasted  in  an  unguarded 
moment,  an  iron  fist.  The  old  Germans 
must  have  possessed  this  stalwart  force, 
who,  with  their  naked  arms,  overthrew  and 
crushed  the  mail-clad  Romans." 

The  physician  laughed,  and  he  could 
hardly  succeed  in  narrating  how,  when  he 
first  saw  Sonnenkamp,  he  always  looked 
for  the  club  which  seemed  to  belong  to 
such  a  man's  hand.  When  he  behaved  in  a 
friendly  way,  then  it  seemed  always  as  if 
he  said,  Be  quiet,  I  won't  hurt  you.  And 
moreover,  Sonnenkamp  had  a  heart-disease, 
according  to  all  pathologic  signs,  and  he 
was  obliged,  therefore,  to  guard  against 
every  agitating  emotion. 

He  cautioned  Eric,  particularly,  not  to 
make  easy  terms  with  Sonnenkamp  when 
he  came  to  a  definite  understanding,  for  if 
he  did  he  would  lose  all  hold  upon  him. 

"You  see,"  he  said,  "the  priests,  and 
we  physicians,  always  give  our  masses  and 
receipts  in  Latin ;  for  who  would  gulp 
down  for  us  sulphuric  acid,  if  that  were 
written  on  the  paper  in  good  German  ? 
So  you  will  see  that  you  can  make  an  im- 
pression upon  Herr  Sonnenkamp  only  by 
ä  certain  mysterious  loftiness ;  otherwise 
he  fancies  that  he  can  make  quick  work 
with  you." 

The  doctor  then  gave  a  very  hnmorous 
description  of v  the  sleepy  existence  of  Frau 
Geres,  to  whom  the  sharp-tongued,  but 
still  more  envious  Countess  Wolfsgarteh 
had  given  the  epithet  "crocodile,"  because 
she  really  had  some  of  the  traits  of  that 
monster  as  he  basks  in  the  sun.  For  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  there  was  no  mode  of  activity 
in  which  he  could  let  out  his  energies ;  and 
for  Frau  Ceres,  there  was  no  exertion  that 
was  not  an  effort.  She  was  not  really  to 
be  blamed  for  having  her  dress  changed 
three  times  a  day,  without  sticking  in  a 
single  pin  herself;  that  she  walked  about 
her  chamber  for  hours  together,  looked  at 
herself  from  every  point  of  view,  fed  her 
parrot,  played  "patience,"  and  cherished 
her  nails.  The  poor  creature  ought  always 
to  live  simply  and  naturally,  but  even 
those  more  highly  endowed  cannot  do  that. 
She  was  indeed  weak  and  dependent,  but 
she  was  also  artful  and  capricious. 

Eric  was  on  the  point  of  confiding  to  the 
doctor  his  interview  with  Frau  Ceres,  but 
before  he  could  open  his  lips,  the  doctor 
began  to  narrate  :  — 

"  It  may  be  now  almost  a  year  since  an 


occurrence  took  place  which  I  could  not 
have  believed  possible.  I  was  sent  for  to 
the  villa.  The  daughter  of  the  house  was  in 
a  condition  of  muscular  rigidity,  and  at  the 
same  time  delirium,  which  I  could  not  com- 
prehend. Fraulein  Perini  told  me  that  the 
girl  had  clasped  her  hands  together  so 
tightly,  that  they  had  been  drawn  apart 
only  by  the  aid  of  two  servants,  although 
the  girl  herself  opposed  no  resistance,  and 
when  I  came  the  fingers  were  still  clenched. 
I  could  never  find  out  what  extreme  mental 
excitement  could  have  produced  such  a  con- 
dition of  the  body ;  I  could  only  learn  this 
much,  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp  had  refused 
his  wife  something  or  other  which  she 
strongly  desired.  She  revenged  herself  by 
confiding  to  her  daughter,  who  had  hitherto 
reverenced  her  father  as  a  higher  being, 
something  which  put  the  poor  girl  into  this 
state  of  excitement.  But  when  she  recov- 
ered, she  continued  melancholy,  until  they 
sent  her  to  the  convent,  where  she  gained 
new  animation." 

Eric  turned  the  conversation  to  the 
reasons  why  Sonnenkamp  was  so  much 
hated  and  calumniated.  The  physician 
readily  took  up  the  subject,  and  explained 
that  the  poor  nobility  looked  out  for  every 
blemish  as  a  natural  defence  against  a  man 
of  such  immeasurable  wealth,  who  almost 
personally  insulted  them  by  his  outlays. 
Herr  von  Pranken  was  the  only  one  favora- 
bly disposed  towards  him,  and  he  was  so, 
not  merely  because  he  wanted  to  marry  his 
daughter,  but  there  was  also  a  natural  at- 
traction to  each  other,  for  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp was  deeply  interested  in  himself,  and 
Herr  von  Pranken  deluded  his  neighbor  as 
himself.  "  And  now,  my  friend,"  con- 
cluded the  physician,  "  now  see  to  it,  how 
you  come  into  this  house  with  the  right  un- 
derstanding." 

"  I  have  one  request,"  Eric  at  last  began. 
"Let  me  hear  what  you  would  say  to  a 
friend  concerning  me,  if  I  were  absent. 
Will  you  do  that?" 

"  Certainly  ;  this  is  what  I  intended  to  do. 
You  are  an  idealist.  Ah  !  how  hard  a  time 
people  have  with  their  ideal !  You  ideal- 
ists, you  who  are  always  thinking,  toiling, 
and  feeling  for  others,  you  seem  to  me  like 
a  landlord  who  has  an  inn  on  the  roadvor 
in  some  beautiful  situation.  He  must  get 
everything  in  readiness,  and  pray  to  God 
all  the  time  :  Send  good  weather  and  many 
guests  !  He  himself  cannot  control  either 
weather  or  guests.  So  the  counsel  is  very 
simple.  Don't  be  a  landlord  of  the  inn  of 
ideality,  but  eat  and  drink,  yourself,  with  a 
good  zest,  and  don't  think  of  others ;  they 
will  themselves  call  for  their  own  portion, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


105 


or  bring  it  with  them  in  their  knapsack  ;  if 
not,  they  can  go  hungry  and  thirsty.  I 
have  found  that  there  are  only  two  ways  of 
coming  to  terms  with  life :  either  to  be 
wholly  out  with  the  world,  or  wholly  out 
with  one's  self.  The  youth  of  to-day  have  yet 
a  third  way :  it  is  to-be  at  the  same  time  out 
with  the  world  and  with  themselves. 

"  That  is,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  my  case." 

"  And  just  for  that  reason,"  continued 
the  doctor,  taking  off  his  huge  glove,  and 
laying  his  hand  on  Eric's  shoulder,  "just 
for  that  reason,  I  should  desire  for  you 
some  different  lot  —  I  don't  know  what  —  I 
cannot  think  of  any." 

A  long  row  of  wagons  loaded  with 
stripped  beach-boughs  came  along  the  road. 
The  physician  gave  the  information  that 
they  had  already  extracted  from  these 
branches  various  chemical  substances,  and 
now  they  were  carrying  them  to  a  powder- 
mill.  Eric  said  that  he  knew  it,  that  he 
had  been  ordered  to  a  powder-mill  in  the 
mountains  for  a  long  time,  and  was  em- 
ployed there. 

The  doctor  was  silent,  and  looking  up, 
he  saw  that  some  one  was  greeting  him. 
An  open  carriage  drawn  by  two  dapple- 
gray  horses  came  towards  them,  and  a  hand- 
some young  man,  sitting  in  it  and  driving 
himself,  was  already  bowing  from  a  dis- 
tance. 

The  doctor  ordered  his  carriage  to  be 
stopped. 

"  Welcome  !  "  he  cried  to  the  young  man. 
They  shook  hands  from  their  vehicles,  and 
the  doctor  asked,  — 

"  How  are  Louise  and  the  children  ?  " 

"All  well." 

"  Have  you  been  to  your  mother's  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  How  are  your  parents  ?  " 

M  They  are  well  too." 

The  doctor  introduced  the  young  man  as 
Herr  Henry  Weidmann,  his  sister's  son-in- 
law. 

"Are  you  the  son  of  the  Herr  Weid- 
mann whom  I  have  so  often  heard  of?  " 
"  Most  certainly." 

"  Where  is  your  father  now  ?"  asked  the 
doctor. 

"Yonder  there  in  the  village;  they  are 
considering  about  establishing  a  powder- 
mill." 

Something  seemed  to  come  into  the  doc- 
tor's mind  like  a  flash ;  he  turned  quickly 
round  to  Eric,  but  did  not  utter  a  word. 
The  young  man  asked  excuse  for  his  haste, 
as  he  was  obliged  to  be  at  the  station  at  a 
particular  hour,  and  soon  took  leave. 

The  young  Weidmann  said  hurriedly  to 
Eric,  that  he  hoped  this  would  not  be  their 


last  meeting,  and  that  next  time  he  hoped 
they  would  not  pass  each  other  in  this  way, 
and  that  his  father  would  be  glad  to  see 
him. 

The  two  carriages  drove  on,  each  in  its 
own  direction. 

The  doctor  informed  Eric  that  his  sister's 
son-in-law  was  a  practical  chemist,  and  he 
murmured  to  himself,  — 

'  "  Trump  called  for,  trump  shown."  Eric 
did  not  understand  him ;  he  thought,  smiling, 
how  Pranken  had  spoken  of  Weidmann's 
sons,  with  the  impertinently  white  teeth. 

The  carriage  drove  on.  Just  as  they 
were  entering  the  next  village,  the  steam- 
boat from  the  upper  Rhine  came  along ;  the 
doctor  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  in  order  to  reach  the 
landing  in  time.  They  went  at  a  tearing 
gallop.    The  doctor  cried,  — 

"  I  have  it  now!  I  have  it  now!"  He 
struck  Eric's  arm  at  the  same  time,  as  if 
he  were  giving  a  blow  upon  the  table  that 
would  make  the  glasses  jingle,  and  he  held 
it  with  no  gentle  grasp. 

The  carriage  reached  the  landing  just  as 
the  plank  was  thrown  from  it  to  the  steam- 
boat. The  doctor  got  out  quickly,  and  told 
the  coachman  to  say  to  his  wife  that  he 
would  not  be  home  until  evening ;  then  he 
took  Eric  by  the  arm,  and  went  with  him  on 
board  the  boat.  Only  after  it  had  got 
under  way,  could  Eric  ask  him  if  he  were 
going  to  visit  a  patient.  The  doctor  nod- 
ded ;  he  thought  that  he  was  safe  in  saying 
so,  for  he  had  a  patient  with  him  whom  he 
was  curing  constitutionally. 

The  physician  was  immediately  greeted 
by  acquaintances  on  board,  and  a  company 
around  a  punch-bowl  invited  him  and  his 
friend  to  join  them ;  he  touched  glasses, 
but  did  not  drink,  for  he  said  that  he  never 
took  mixed  drinks.  The  company  was 
merry ;  a  deformed  passenger  played  upon 
an  accordion,  and  accompanied  the  singing. 

On  the  deck,  at  a  little  table  upon  which 
stood  a  bottle  of  champagne  in  a  wine- 
cooler,  the  Wine-cavalier  was  seated,  and 
opposite  him  was  a  handsome  woman,  with 
a  great  deal  of  false  hair,  and  also  peculi- 
arly attractive  charms  of  her  own.  They 
were  smoking  cigarettes,  and  chatting  very 
fast  in  French.  The  Wine-cavalier  avoided 
meeting  the  physician's  eye,  and  the  physi- 
cian nodded  to  himself,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Good,  a  little  shame  yet  left." 

When  they  came  in  sight  of  the  village 
which  his  son-in-law  had  mentioned,  the 
doctor  told  Eric  that  he  would  now  inform 
him  directly  that  he  was  going  with  him  to 
Weidmann's ;  lie  was  the  man  who  under- 
stood how  to  help  him,  and  his  advice  was 


106 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


to  be  unconditionally  followed.  For  a  time 
Eric  was  perplexed,  but  then  it  appeared  to 
him  again  as  a  strangely  interesting  thing, 
that  now  perhaps  he  was  to  pass  through  an 
entirely  new  and  unanticipated  examination. 
He  and  the  doctor  entered  the  boat  which 
landed  the  passengers  from  the  steamboat, 
and  those  on  board,  with  glass  in  hand, 
bade  them  farewell ;  the  steamboat  was 
soon  out  of  sight.  Even  the  boatman  knew 
the  doctor,  and  said  to  him,  greeting  him 
in  a  familiar  way,  — 

"  You  will  find  Herr  Weidmann  yonder 
in  the  garden." 

They  landed  at  the  quiet  village.  Eric 
was  introduced  to  Weidmann.  He  was 
a  lean  man,  and,  at  first  sight,  seemed  un- 
interesting ;  his  features  had  an  expression 
of  quiet  self-possession  and  intelligence, 
but  in  his  gleaming  eye  lay  a  burning  en- 
thusiasm. Weidmann  sat  with  several  per- 
sons at  a  table,  on  which  were  papers,  bot- 
tles, and  glasses. 

He  nodded  in  a  friendly  way,  and  then 
turned  to  the  persons  with  whom  he  had 
been  conversing. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
STRIVE  TO  MAKE  MONEY. 

It  is  not  well  to  hear  a  man  so  much 
spoken  of  and  praised,  before  seeing  him 
face  to  face.  It  seemed  incomprehensible 
to  Eric  how  this  man  exerted  such  a  wide 
influence,  and  impossible  for  himself  to  en- 
ter into  his  life.  The  doctor  was  immedi- 
ately called  away,  for  the  landlord's  father 
being  sick,  his  arrival  was  regarded  as 
very  fortunate.  Eric  walked  up  and  down 
the  shore ;  he  seemed  to  himself  to  be 
thrown  into  a  strange  world,  and  to  be 
borne  along  by  strange  potencies.  How 
long  it  was  since  he  had  left  Roland,  how 
long  since  he  went  by  this  village,  which 
was  then  to  him  only  a  name  !  Now,  per- 
haps, some  eventful  occurrence  was  to  take 
place  here,  and  the  name  of  this  village  to 
be  stamped  indelibly  upon  his  life. 

* 4  Herr  Captain !  Herr  Weidmann  wishes 
me  to  ask  you  to  come  into  the  garden,"  the 
boatman  cried  to  him. 

Eric  went  back  into  the  garden,  where 
Weidmann  came  to  him,  with  an  entirely 
different  mien,  saying  that  he  would  now, 
for  the  first  time,  bid  him  welcome ;  previ- 
ously he  had  been  very  busy.  A  short  time 
afterwards  the  doctor  also  came. 

The  three  now  seated  themselves  at  the 
table  in  a  corner  of  the  garden,  where  there 
was  an  extensive  prospect,  and  Weidmann 
began  in  a  humorous  way  to  depict  "the he- 
roic treatment"  of  the  doctor's  practice,  who 


liked  to  deal  in  drastic  remedies.  A  suit- 
able point  of  agreement  was  established  be- 
tween Eric  and  Weidmann,  while  they 
united  in  a  facetious,  but  entirely  respectful 
assault  upon  the  doctor. 

Eric  learned  that  the  doctor  had  already 
proposed  that  he  should  undertake  the  su- 
perintendence of  the  powder-mill.  Weid- 
mann, in  the  meanwhile,  explained  that  the 
difficulties  were  too  great,  and  that  the 
government  threw  in  the  way  all  sorts  of 
obstacles,  although  they  wanted  principally 
to  open  a  market  in  the  New  World,  and 
with  this  view,  his  nephew,  Doctor  Fritz, 
had  sent  over  from  America,  and  had  well 
recommended,  one  of  the  men  with  whom 
he  had  just  been  conversing.  And  his 
nephew  desired  that  they  would  find  some 
experienced  German  artillery  officer,  who 
would  emigrate  to  America,  and  there  take 
charge  of  a  manufactory  of  gunpowder 
and  matches,  with  the  sure  prospect  of  soon 
making  a  fortune. 

The  doctor  looked  towards  Eric,  but  he 
smiled  and  shook  his  head  in  the  negative. 

Weidmann  informed  them  further,  that  a 
discovery  had  been  lately  made  of  a  deposit 
of  manganese,  and  that  they  were  desirous 
of  forming  a  company  to  work  the  mine ; 
that  a  man  who  knew  how  to  regulate  mat- 
ters might  easily  make  himself  acquainted 
with  the  business. 

He  also  looked  inquiringly  at  Eric,  and 
then  made  him  the  direct  offer  of  a  consid- 
erable salary,  and  an  increasing  share  of 
the  profits. 

Eric  declined,  courteously  and  gratefully, 
as  he  had  not  entirely  decided  whether  he 
would  engage  at  all  in  any  new  pursuit. 
The  doctor  entered  warmly  into  the  matter, 
and  extolled  the  superiority  of  our  age,  in 
which  men  of  ripe  scientific  attainments  de- 
.voted  themselves  to  active  employments, 
and,  through  their  independent  property, 
created  a  commonalty  such  as  no  period  of 
history  had  ever  before  known. 

"  '  This  is  ours,  this  is  ours,1  we  com- 
moners can  say;    Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"  Most  certainly." 

'*  Now  then,  go  thou  and  do  likewise." 

And  he  added  to  this,  how  glad  the 
Weidmann  family  would  be  to  receive  him 
into  their  circle. 

Eric  smilingly  replied,  that  he  felt  obliged 
to  decline  this  very  friendly  offer ;  that  he 
valued  very  highly  the  independence  which 
property  gives,  but  was  not  adapted  to  a 
life  of  acquisition. 

'  *  Indeed  ?  "  cried  the  doctor,  and  there 
was  something  of  contempt  in  his  tone. 
"  Do  you  know  how  the  question  of  our 
age  is  put  ?    It  is,  To  use,  or  to  be  used  ? 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


107 


Why  are  you  willing  to  be  used  by  this  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  ? 11 

"You  surely  would  not  want  me  to  use 
other  people,  and  appropriate  to  myself 
the  product  of  their  labor  ?  " 

"It  is  not  well,"  interposed  Weidmann, 
"to  generalize  in  this  way  upon  a  wholly 
personal  question.  I  see  —  I  expected  that 
the  utter  separation  of  the  rich  and  the 
poor  would  vitally  interest  you ;  but  here 
we  have  our  doctor,  and  he  will  agree  with 
me,  that  it  is  with  the  so-called  social 
maladies  as  with  those  of  the  body.  We 
know  to-day,  better  than  any  period  has 
ever  known*  the  scientific  diagnosis  of  dis- 
ease, but  we  are  ignorant  of  the  specific 
remedy,  and  a  disease  must  be  known  a 
long  time,  and  known  very  thoroughly, 
before  its  method  of  cure  is  discovered ; 
yet  we  must  put  up  with  it,  in  the  mean- 
time, and  let  it  pass." 

"  Have  you  had  no  craving  to  be  rich  ?  " 
the  doctor  cried,  apparently  excited. 

"  It  would  be  unwise  to  have  a  craving 
for  what  I  cannot  obtain  through  my  own 
capabilities.1' 

Weidmann's  eye  was  quietly  fixed  upon 
Eric's  countenance ;  the  latter  was  aware 
of  it,  and  whilst  he  thought,  at  this  mo- 
ment, that  he  could  with  a  motion  of  his 
hand  quietly  relinquish  all  the  offered 
riches  of  the  world,  the  temptation  came 
over  his  soul,  What  it  would  be  for  one  to 
be  free  from  all  the  cares  of  life,  and  to  be 
able  to  devote  himself  to  life  itself;  and  he 
saw  also  how  he  could  gratify  every  wish 
of  his  mother  and  his  aunt. 

But  no  ;  the  first  wish  of  his  mother  will 
be  that  he  should  remain  true  to  himself. 
And  the  more  Clodwig  there,  and  here  the 
physician,  wanted  to  turn  him  aside  from 
his  vocation,  so  much  the  clearer  was  it  to 
him,  that  he  not  only  must  abide  by  that 
vocation,  but  that  he  also  had  incurred  a 
moral  obligation  to  Roland. 

Weidmann  related  that  he  had  received  a 
letter  from  New  York,  from  his  nephew, 
Doctor  Fritz,  who  was  going  to  send  im- 
mediately his  young  daughter  to  be  edu- 
cated in  Germany.  The  conversation  now 
turned  upon  persons  and  things  with  which 
Eric  was  unacquainted. 

The  boatman  came  to  inform  them  that 
the  last  steamboat  was  now  coming  up 
the  river. 

The  doctor  and  Eric  took  hasty  leave  of 
Weidmann,  who  warmly  shook  Eric's  hand, 
and  requested  him  to  claim  his  help  in  any 
situation  in  life  where  he  could  be  of 
service. 

The  physician  and  Eric  got  into  the  boat 
and  were  rowed  to  the  steamboat.  Hardly 


a  word  was  spoken  by  them  during  the 
passage  to  'the  town,  where  they  were  to 
disembark. 

When  they  reached  it,  men  and  women 
were  walking  under  the  newly-planted 
lindens,  for  it  is  always  a  significant  event 
of  the  day  when  the  steamboat  arrives, 
which  remains  here  over  night.  The  wife 
of  the  doctor  was  also  at  the  landing,  and 
she  went  homeward  with  Eric  and  her 
husband.  She  was  very  friendly  to  Eric, 
whom  she  had  already  met  at  Wolfsgarten ; 
Eric,  indeed,  had  no  recollection  of  her, 
for  at  that  time  he  had  scarcely  noticed,  in 
fact,  the  modest,  silent  woman. 

Many  persons  were  waiting  at  the  house 
for  the  physician.  Eric  was  shown  into 
his  chamber,  and  then  into  the  library ;  he 
was  glad  to  see  that  the  physician  kept 
abreast  with  all  the  new  investigations  of 
Bis  science,  and  he  hoped  through  his  help  - 
to  fill  up  many  a  gap  in  his  own  knowl- 
edge. 

The  twilight  came  on ;  as  Eric  was  sit- 
ting quietly  in  a  large  chair,  he  heard  a 
horse  trotting  by  the  house.  He  involun- 
tarily stood  up,  and  looked  out ;  he  thought 
that  the  rider  who  had  just  passed  was 
Roland,  or  had  only  his  own  imagination, 
and  his  continual  thinking  about  the  boy, 
deluded  him  ? 

There  was  an  air  of  comfort  in  the  phy- 
sician's house,  and  everything  gave  evi- 
dence of  solid  prosperity ;  but  the  physi- 
cian was  obliged  to  go  from  the  tea-table 
to  a  neighboring  village. 

Eric  walked  with  the  doctor's  wife  along 
the  pretty  road  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
and  there  was  a  double  satisfaction  in  her 
words,  as  she  said  that  she  greatly  desired 
that  her  husband  could  have  constant  inter- 
course with  such  a  mentally  active  friend 
as  Eric,  for  he  often  felt  himself  lonely 
here  in  the  town,  and  he  was  often  obliged 
to  depend  wholly  upon  himself. 

Eric  was  happy,  for  he  perceived  in  this 
not  only  a  friendly  appreciation  of  himself, 
but  also  the  deep  and  intelligent  esteem  of 
the  wife,  who  would  like  to  bestow  upon 
her  husband  a  permanent  blessing. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  CHEERFUL  LITTLE  TOWN. 

There  was  a  genuine  neighborly  feeling 
among  the  inhabitants  of  this  small  town. 
People  called  out  to  friends  who  were 
standing  at  the  windows  and  on*  the  bal- 
conies, or  walking  in  the  streets  ;  groups 
were  formed,  where  much  chatting  and 
jesting  went  on,  while  from  windows,  here 


108 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


and  there  piano-playing  and  singing  were 
heard. 

The  justice's  wife  and  her  daughter 
Lina  joined  Erie  and  his  hostess.  People 
were  surprised  that  he  was  leaving  Son- 
nenkamp's  house,  as  the  report  had  already 
spread  that  he  was  to  remain  there.  And 
now  Eric  learned  that  Roland  had  really 
ridden  through  the  town,  passing  several 
times  before  the  physician's  house,  and 
letting  his  horse  prance  so  that  it  fright- 
ened one  to  look  at  him. 

Lina  was  burning  with  eagerness  to 
speak  to  Eric  alone  for  a  moment,  and  she 
found  her  opportunity  when  they  met  the 
school-director  and  his  wife,  and  the  two 
elder  ladies  stopped  to  inquire  about  the 
health  of  the  forester's  wife,  who  lived  in 
the  director's  house.  Lina  went  on  with 
Eric,  and  said  abruptly  :  — 

"Do  you  know  that  your  pupil  Roland 
has  a  sister  ?  11 

"  Certainly.    I  have  heard  so." 

"  Heard  so  ?  Why,  you  have  seen  her. 
She  was  the  young  girl  with  the  star  on 
her  forehead,  and  the  wings,  who  met  us  in 
the  twilight  on  the  cloister  steps." 

"  Ah,  indeed  !" 

M  Ah,  indeed  !  "  mimicked  Lina.  "  Oh  ! 
you  men  are  dreadful ;  I  have  always 
thought  that  you  " 

She  stopped  and  Eric  asked :  — 

"That  I  — what  of  me?" 

"  Ah,  mother  is  right,  I  am  too  heedless 
and  clumsy,  and  say  everything  that  comes 
into  my  head ;  I  should  have  believed  you 
now  " 

*'  That  you  may  do ;  it  is  a  sin  to  be  un- 
true, and  a  double  sin  to  be  so  towards 
you." 

"  Well  then,"  said  Lina,  taking  off  her 
straw  hat,  and  shaking  the  curls  in  her 
neck,  "  well  then,  if  you  will  honestly  con- 
fess, that  Manna  made  an  impression  on 
you  at  that  time,  I  will  tell  you  some- 
thing ;  but  you  must  be  frank  and  sin- 
cere." 

"My  dear  young  lady,  do  you  think  I 
would  say  no  ?  You  tempt  me  not  to  be  sin- 
cere." 

"Well  then,  I'll  tell  you — but  please 
keep  it  to  yourself  won't  you  ?  —  Manna 
asked  me  who  you  were,  and  that's  a  great 
deal  from  her.  Oh,  Herr  Captain,  wealth 
is  a  dreadful  thing ;  people  offer  themselves 
only  for  the  sake  of  a  girl's  money. —  no, 
I  didn't  mean  to  say  that  —  but  try  to  man- 
age that  Manna  shall  not  be  a  nun." 

"Can  I  prevent  it?" 

"  Did  you  see  the  wooden  shoes  that  the 
nuns  wore  ?    Horrid !    Manna  would  have 


to  wear  those  shoes,  and  she  has  the  pretti- 
est little  foot." 

"  But  why  shouldn't  she  be  a  nun,  if  she 
wants  to  ?  " 

Lina  was  puzzled,  she  was  not  prepared 
for  such  an  answer.  She  remembered,  too, 
that  she  was  a  good  Catholic. 

"  Ah,"  she  said  plaintively,  "  I  fancied  to 
myself  —  I  am  a  silly  child,  am  I  not  ?  —  in 
old  times  a  knight  used  to  enter  a  castle 
disguised  as  a  squire  or  something  else  — 
well,  I  thought  now  the  squire  must  be  a 
tutor  and  then  — " 

She  could  not  go  on  with  her  fancy  sketch, 
for  her  mother  overtook  them,-  rather  anx- 
ious lest  her  daughter  had  made  some  of 
her  dreadfully  simple  speeches  in  her  walk 
with  the  stranger. 

"  May  one  know  what  you  are  talking 
about  so  earnestly  ?  "  asked  the  Justice's 
wife.  Lina  drew  a  long  breath,  and  put 
her  hat-elastic  in  her  mouth,  which  her 
mother  had  often  forbidden,  as  Eric  an- 
swered with  great  unconcern, — 

"  Your  daughter  has  beenreminding  me 
that  I  was  not  very  attentive  when  we  first 
met  on  the  convent  island.  I  must  ask 
your  pardon  now,  madame.  It  relieves  my 
mind  of  a  burden  of  self-reproach  to  have 
the  opportunity  of  excusing  myself  to  you, 
and  I  earnestly  beg  that  you  will  carry  my 
apologies  to  your  husband.  One  meets  in 
travelling  so  many  people  who  think  to 
make  themselves  of  importance  by  being 
ill-tempered,  that  one  catches  the  unfriendly 
spirit,  and  harms  himself  the  most.  If  I 
had  not  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  you 
again,  a  little  misunderstanding  would  have 
remained  between  us.  Ah !  on  such  a 
beautiful  evening,  by  your  beautiful  river, 
where  people  are  so  friendly  and  cheerful, 
one  longs  to  do  some  good  to  every  one  he 
meets,  and  to  say,  Rejoice  with  me,  dear 
fellow-mate,  dancing  in  the  sunlight,  for 
the  little  time  which  is  called  life." 

Eric  was  very  animated,  and  the  Justice's 
wife  much  pleased  with  his  demeanor. 
The  evening  walk  was  most  refreshing. 
Lina  directly  gave  up  to  her  mother  the 
place  next  Eric,  and  walked  on  the  other 
side  of  the  doctor's  wife.  The  walk  lasted 
a  long  time>  till  the  doctor's  carriage  was 
heard  in  the  distance  by  his  wife,  who  knew 
the  sound  of  its  wheels  before  the  others 
could  distinguish  anything. 

The  doctor  joined  them  with  a  fresh  fund 
of  cheerfulness,  saying, — 

"  I  was  sent  for  to  receive  a  confession, 
and  now  I  have  lost  an  excellent  reminder." 

He  went  on  to  tell  them  that  a  man  had 
lived  in  the  next  village,  the  sight  of  whom 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


109 


had  always  given  him  a  stab  in  the  heart, 
for  the  man  had  sworn  a  false  oath  about 
a  hundred  florins  which  he  owed  him.  But 
as  time  went  on,  he  had  become  quite  grate- 
ful to  this  person  for  serving  him  as  a  re- 
viver of  his  faith,  because  every  time  he  met 
him  he  felt  a  fresh  belief  in  the  meanness  of 
mankind,  which  one  easily  forgets.  Now, 
before  his  death,  the  man  had  confessed  to 
him  and  given  back  the  money.  So  here  he 
was,  a  hundred  florins  richer,  but  he  had 
lost  his  faith.  How  could  he  laugh  now  at 
the  world,  if  he  had  no  longer  the  meanness 
of  men  to  laugh  at  ? 

' '  What  will  you  do  now  with  the  hun- 
dred florins  ?"  asked  Lina. 

What  would  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"What  would  you  do,  captain?"  said 
the  physician,  turning  suddenly  to  Eric ; 
"what  would  you  do,  if  you  had  a  million 
to  give  away  ?  n 

"  I  ?  "  asked  Eric,  somewhat  taken  aback. 
He  did  not  unde  rstand  the  reason  of  the 
sudden  question. 

"  Yes,  you." 

"  I  never  thought  about  it,  but  first  I 
would  found  valuable  scholarships  at  all  the 
German  universities.  The  man  of  wealth 
ought  to  be  able  to  reflect  how  he  is  culti- 
vating the  mind  of  the  man  of  genius." 

"Good,"  answered  the  doctor,  "every 
one  thinks  first  of  his  own  circle.  Here's 
my  little  friend  Lina;  if  she  had  a  million 
to  give  away,  she  would  spend  it  all  on  blue 
muslin,  and  dress  all  the  female  world  in  it. 
Wouldn't  you,  Musselina  ?  " 

Lina  was  silent,  and  her  mother  said, 
"  Give  some  smart  answer ;  can't  you  think 
of  one  ?  "  Lina  apparently  could  not  think 
of  one,  but  there  was  a  pleasant,  merry 
tone  in  the  intercourse  between  the  doctor 
and  the  child. 

After  their  friends  left  them,  the  doctor 
said  to  Eric,  — 

"  You  can  become  familiar  with  a  new 
method  of  instruction  here.  The  Justice's 
lady  tries  with  all  her  might  to  make  her 
daughter  a  pert,  worldly  chatterbox,  but 
fortunately  the  child  has  a  simple,  genuine 
nature  which  can't  be  spoiled,  and  when 
you  talk  with  her  alone  she  is  full  of  bub- 
bling life,  and  rightly  deserves  the  name  of 
Musselina." 

The  doctor  was  more  friendly  than  ever 
in  his  bearing  towards  Eric,  for  he  saw 
that  he  had  wished  to  interfere  in  his  life 
too  hastily  and  roughly.  He  expressed  re- 
gret that  Eric  had  not  seen  Herr  Weidmann 
to  advantage  that  day,  as  the  latter  had 
been  preoccupied,  or  something  had  gone 
wrong  with  him,  and  he  advised  Eric  not 


to  adopt  a  wrong  impression  in  regard  to 
him.  The  doctor  smiled,  well  pleased, 
when  Eric  replied  that  he  should  not  allow 
himself  to  form  an  opinion  of  a  view  on  the 
Rhine  which  every  one  admired,  if  he  had 
seen  it  only  through  rain  or  mist.  The  phy- 
sician had  evidently  been  thinking  much  of 
Eric  during  his  drive ;  he  always  addressed 
him  to-day  as  Herr  Captain  in  a  very  marked 
manner,  and  he  explained  this  when  he 
held  out  his  hand  in  bidding  him  good-night, 
by  saying, — ■ 

"  You  are  the  first  soldier  with  whom  I 
have,  ever  been  able  to  live  quite  comforta- 
bly. With  all  other  officers,  I  have  always 
had  a  feeling  of — I  can't  say  fear,  exactly 
—  but  a  certain  consciousness  of  being  un- 
armed in  the  presence  of  an  armed  man. 
You  soldiers  always  have  an  air  of  prepa- 
ration, of  readiness  for  attack,  in  which 
there's  much  that's  good.  I  take  back  my 
words ;  perhaps  a  soldier  can  be  a  still 
better  educator  than  a  physician.  Well, 
good-night !  " 

When  Eric  was  alone,  everything  van- 
ished which  he  had  seen  or  experienced 
during  the  day,  and  Roland's  form  alone 
remained  before  him.  He  tried  to  fancy 
what  the  boy's  thoughts  were  in  riding  after 
him.  He  sought  to  transport  himself  into 
the  boy's  state  of  feeling ;  he  could  not  en- 
tirely do  so,  for  Roland  was  full  of  anger 
with  Eric,  for  deserting  one  who  was  so 
truly  and  fondly  devoted  to  him.  The  boy 
felt  as  if  he  had  been  robbed,  and  so  he 
rode  over  to  the  town  fancying  that  Eric 
must  be  coming  to  meet  him,  or  must  be 
watching  for  him  at  the  window ;  he  rode 
back  weeping  with  anger.  , 

The  world,  of  which  he  was  to  possess  so 
much,  appeared  to  him  worthless  and 
strange,  while  it  seemed  to  Eric,  who  had 
nothing  but  his  own  thoughts,  bathed  in  a 
dew  of  blessing.  In  the  stillness  of  the 
night  he  thought  over  the  hospitable  and 
homelike  reception  he  had  met  from  Clod- 
wig,  and  now  from  the  physician,  and  hos- 
pitality seemed  to  him  the  purest  fruit  of 
noble  manhood.  In  ancient  times  men  en- 
tertained gods  and  angels,  and  they  still 
entertained  them,  for  in  freely  offering 
what  one  has  to  a  stranger,  whose  very 
existence  was  yesterday  unknown,  the  di- 
vine is  unfolded  in  the  pure  soul. 

Up  yonder  at  Wolfsgarten,  Eric  had  met 
with  a  fatherly  good- will,  based  upon  con- 
geniality of  thought  —  here  with  the  doctor, 
as  much  goodwill  as  difference  of  opiniou : 
but  here,  too,  that  personal  friendliness 
which  is  so  satisfying  and  home-like. 

There  was  Bella  who  always  wished  to 
make  an  impression  in  her  own  behalf,  and 


110 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


here  was  the  doctor's  wife,  who  wished  noth- 
ing for  herself,  who  thanked  Eric  in  her 
heart,  and  wished  -only  that  her  husband 
might  have  the  good  fortune  to  be  able  to 
talk  over  learned  subjects  with  another  man. 
And  were  these  many  forms,  were  all 
these  events,  to  be  only  the  passing  occur- 
rences of  a  journey  ? 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
AGAIN  ALONE  WITH  THYSELF. 

"  In  the  morning,1'  the  doctor  often  said, 
"I  am  like  a  washed  chimney-sweeper." 
He  rose,  summer  and  winter,  at  five  o'clock, 
studied  uninterruptedly  several  hours,  and 
answered  only  the  most  pressing  calls  from 
his  patients.  Through  this  practice  of 
study  he  not  only  kept  up  his  scientific 
knowledge,  but  as  be  bathed  his  body  in 
fresh  water,  so  was  he  also  mentally  invig- 
orated ;  let  come  what  would  of  the  day,  he 
had  made  sure  of  his  portion  of  science. 
And  that  was  the  reason  —  we  may  con- 
gratulate ourselves  upon  knowing  this  se- 
cret —  that  was  the  reason  why  the  doctor 
was  so  wide  awake,  so  ready  primed,  and 
so  vivacious.  He  himself  designated  these 
morning  hours  to  an  old  fellow-student  as 
his  camel-hours,  when  he  drank  himself  full, 
so  that  he  could  often  refresh  himself  with 
a  draught  in  the  dry  desert.  And  life,  more- 
over, did  not  seem  to  him  a  desert,  for  he 
had  something  which  thrived  everywhere, 
and  was  all-prevailing,  and  that  was  an  in- 
destructible cheerfulness,  and  an  equanim- 
ity, which  he  attributed  above  all  to  his 
sound  digestion. 

So  was  he  sitting  now ;  and  when  he 
heard  Eric,  whose  room  was  over  his  study, 
getting  up,  he  sent  word  to  him  to  come 
soon  to  breakfast;  and  in  this  hour  the 
freshness  of  the  man  was  yet  wholly  unim- 
paired. His  wife,  who  had  to  be  busy,  or 
rather,  who  made  herself  busy  about  house- 
hold matters,  in  order  not  to  oblige  her 
husband  to  enter  into  any  conversation  on 
less  learned  matters,  had  soon  gone  into 
the  garden,  in  which  flourished  many  scions 
and  seeds  of  various  kinds  out  of  Sonnen- 
kamp's  garden.  But  the  doctor  conversed 
with  Eric  upon  no  scientific  topics. 

In  the  breakfast-room  there  hung  por- 
traits of  the  parents  and  the  grand-parents 
of  the  physician,  and  he  took  occasion  to 
give  some  account  of  his  own  life.  His 
grandfather  and  father  had  been  boat-men, 
and  the  doctor  had  been  present  at  the 
golden  wedding  of  both,  and  expressed  his 
hope  to  celebrate  also  his  own.  And  after 
he  had  portrayed  his  own  struggle  with  life, 


he  proceeded  to  ask  Eric  about  his  pecuni- 
ary affairs,  and  those  of  his  mother. 

Eric  disclosed  the  whole  state  of  the 
case ;  he  described  how  his  mother  had 
noble  and  rich  friends,  on  whom  she  placed 
great  expectations,  but  he  did  not  believe 
in,  and  to  speak  honestly,  he  did  not  desire, 
any  help  of  that  sort.  The  doctor  asserted 
in  confirmation,  that  no  one  would  help 
them  substantially  and  handsomely ;  he  un- 
folded, as  he  went  along,  wholly  heretical 
views  upon  beneficence  ;  he  expatiated  upon 
the  nonsense  of  leaving  endowments  and 
legacies  in  one's  will,  and  on  scattering 
small  donations.  He  thought  it  was  much 
handsomer,  and  more  permanently  benefi- 
cial, to  make  an  individual  or  a  family  en- 
tirely independent,  so  that  they  may  thereby 
be  the  means  of  accomplishing  greater  goool. 
He  stated  that  he  had  often  attempted  to 
bring  this  about ;  nothing  of  this  kind  was 
to  be  effected  with  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  who 
would  have  nothing  further  to  do  with 
people  into  whose  hat  he  had  cast  an  alms. 

The  conversation,  in  this  way,  having 
once  more  turned  upon  Sonnenkamp,  the 
doctor  offered  to  take  upon  himself  all  the 
external  financial  arrangements  with  Son- 
nenkamp, insisting  upon  Eric's  consent  to 
his  doing  so. 

"And  do  you  take  no  farther  trouble 
about  this  man,11  said  the  doctor,  opening 
an  egg.  "See,  it  is  all  a  fair  exchange. 
We  devour  this  egg  with  the  greatest  zest, 
while  the  hen  got  her  living  out  of  the  ma- 
nure-heap." 

Eric  was  happy  with  this  lively,  practical 
j  man.  He  expressed  his  satisfaction  that, 
I  here  in  this  little  town,  there  were  so  many 
;  noble  persons,  who  could  constitute  a  rich 
i  social  environment.  The  doctor  contested 
!  this,  for  he  considered  that  the  necessity  of 
1  being  thrown  upon  one  another,  and  the 
!  not  being  able  to  make  a  selection,  as  one 
!  can  do  in  a  great  city,  belittled,  contracted, 
and  created  gossip.  One  had,  indeed,  in  a 
great  city,  no  larger  circle  than  was  here 
formed  for  the  direct  participation  in  the 
various  duties  of  life,  but  the  necessity  of 
contracting  marriages  within  such  a  limited 
circle  did  not  permit  the  existence  of  a  free 
social  community. 

"On  the  whole,"  he  said  in  conclusion, 
"  we  are  no  more  to  each  other  than  a  good 
whist-party." 

It  was  time  to  think  of  departing.  Eric 
1  left  the  house  with  a  feeling  of  serene  satis- 
!  faction.  The  doctor  drove  him  to  the  near- 
est railroad  station,  where  he  got  out  and 
warmly  shook  Eric's  hand,  repeating  the 
wish  that  they  might  be  able  to  live  together. 

The  train,  meanwhile,  stopped  longer  than 


THE  COTJNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Ill 


usual  at  the  little  station,  waiting  the  ar- 
rival of  the  train  from  the  lower  Rhine 
which  was  behind  time.  A  merry  crowd 
of  men,  young  and  old,  greeted  the  doctor 
and  seated  themselves  in  the  same  car  with 
Eric.  The  doctor  told  him  that  they  were 
wine-testers,  who  were  going  to  a  sale  which 
was  to  take  place  to-day  at  the  wine-count's 
cellar.  He  called  Eric's  attention  specially 
to  a  jovial-looking  man,  the  ganger,  the 
finest  judge  of  wine  in  the  district.  The 
doctor  laughed  heartily  when  Eric  said  to 
him,  that  he  had  also  gone  about  the  whole 
district  testing  wines,  that  is,  the  spiritual 
wine  of  character. 

*'  Strange  how  you  make  an  application 
of  everything ! "  laughed  the  physician. 
"  Count  Wolfsgarten,  Pranken,  Bella,  Son- 
nenkamp, the  huntsman,  Sevenpiper,  Mus- 
selina,  Weidmann,  Fräulein  Perini,  the  Ma- 
jor, the  priest,  I,  and  Roland  —  a  fine  spec- 
imen-catalogue of  wines.  Look  out  that 
you  do  not  stagger  as  you  come  out  of  the 
wine-cellar." 

■  The  doctor  suddenly  turned  round,  and 
cried :  — 

"You  may  yet  induce  me  to  put  some- 
thing in  print.  I  am  verily  of  the  opinion, 
that  though  there  must  be  some  consumers 
who  are  not  producers,  there  are  no  grad- 
uated German  heads  that  don't  want,  at 
some  time  or  other,  to  write  a  book ;  per- 
haps that  helps  them  to  study.  And  when 
you  come  again,  you  will,  perhaps,  bring 
me  to  the  point  of  writing  my  history  of 
sleep." 

The  train  from  the  lower  Rhine  whistled, 
and  the  doctor,  grasping  Eric's  hand  again, 
said  with  emotion,  — 

'*  We  are  friends  !  take  notice,  that  if 
either  one  of  us  is  to  be  no  longer  the 
other's  friend,  he  pledges  himself  to  give  a 
week's  notice.    And  now  farewell." 

The  last  word  was  cut  off,  for  the  loco- 
motive whistled,  and  Eric  set  out  towards 
home. 

He  was  sitting  with  downcast  eyes  when 
he  heard  some  one  in  the  car  say,  — 

"There's  young  Sonnenkamp  on  horse- 
back ! " 

Eric  looked  out,  and  caught  one  more 


glimpse  of  Roland,  just  as  he  disappeared 
behind  a  little  hill. 

Eric  heard  nothing  of  the  lively  talk, 
often  interrupted  by  loud  laughter,  which 
the  wine-party  kept  up ;  he  had  much  in 
the  past  and  future  to  think  over,  and  he 
was  glad  when  the  party  left  the  car  at  the 
next  station,  and  he  remained  alone.  He 
felt  some  repentance,  and  some  doubt 
whether  he  had  not  acted  wrongly  and  un- 
wisely in  not  concluding  an  arrangement 
with  Sonnenkamp,  but  he  soon  took  cour- 
age again  and  cast  his  regret  behind  him. 

We  are  rapidly  rolled  along  by  the  power 
of  steam.  And  in  spirit  ?  How  far  are  we 
masters  of  our  destiny  ? 

At  several  stations,  school-boys,  with 
their  satchels  on  their  backs,  entered  Eric's 
car.  He  learned,  in  answer  to  his  ques- 
tions, that  they  lived  with  their  parents  in 
country-houses  and  distant  villages,  but 
went  every  day  to  school  in  the  city,  return- 
ing home  in  the  evening.  Eric  thought 
long  on  the  new  race  of  youths  which  is 
growing  up ;  taking  their  places  in  the 
noisy  railway-train  in  the  early  morning, 
then  assembling  for  instruction,  and  going 
home  again  over  the  railroad ;  these  boys 
must  and  will  learn  to  guard,  in  the  rest- 
lessness and  tumult  of  the  new  age,  their 
own  inner  life,  which  is,  indeed,  quite  dif- 
ferent from  ours.  And  then  he  looked  far- 
ther on  into  a  future,  when  the  alarming 
growth  of  the  great  cities  shall  cease,  and 
men  shall  again  live  outside  of  them,  where 
the  green  fields,  the  rushing  streams,  and 
the  blue  sky  shall  be  daily  before  their  eyes, 
and  yet  it  shall  be  granted  them  to  make 
their  own  the  elements  of  culture,  and  all 
which  is  now  supplied  by  the  union  of  men 
in  large  towns.  Then  again  will  country 
air  force  its  way  into  the  soul. 

At  the  time  when  Eric  and  the  doctor 
were  setting  out,  the  justice's  wife  sat  with 
her  husband  and  her  daughter  over  their 
morning  coffee.  The  conversation  turned 
on  the  evening  walk  with  Eric,  and  the  lady 
repeated  his  frank  apologies. 

"Very  good,  very  good,"  said  the  jus- 
tice. "  He  is  polite  and  clever,  but  it's  well 
that  he  has  gone ;  he's  a  dangerous  man." 


112 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


BOOK  IV.     CHAPTER  Ii 
THE  STRUGGLE  IN  A  CHILD'S  HEART. 

The  sparrows  in  the  alders  and  willows 
on  the  shore  of  the  convent-island  twittered 
and  chattered  noisily  together,  they  had  so 
much  to  say  to  each  other  about  what  they 
had  experienced  during  the  day ;  and  who 
knows  whether  their  to-day  was  not  a 
much  longer  interval  of  time  than  ours  ? 
One  puffed  up  by  his  experience  —  perhaps 
we  should  say  her  experience,  for  the 
feathers  had  lost  their  colors  from  age  — 
sat  quietly  in  the  crotch  of  a  bough,  com- 
fortably resting  against  the  trunk ;  he 
echoed  and  re-echoed  his  delight  at  the 
splendid  time  he  enjoyed  over  the  river, 
under  the  closely-trimmed  branches  of  a 
shady  linden,  in  the  vineyard  by  the 
shore. 

The  waiter  there  had  long  delayed  re- 
moving the  remnants  of  an  English  break- 
fast, and  there  were  cakes,  the  pieces, 
alas  !  too  large,  abundance  of  eggs,  honey, 
and  sugar ;  it  was  a  feast  without  parallel. 
He  considered  that  the  real  joy  of  existence 
had  its  first  beginning  when  one  wished  to 
know  nothing  more  of  all  other  things,  and 
had  supreme  satisfaction  in  eating  and 
drinking  alone.  Only  in  mature  life  did 
one  really  come  to  that  perception. 

Others  would  listen  to  nothing  from  the 
swaggering  fellow,  and  there  was  an  ir- 
regular debate,  whether  lettuce-seeds  or 
young  cabbage-heads  were  not  much  better 
than  all  the  cooked-up  dishes  of  men.  A 
young  rogue,  fluttering  around  his  roguish 
mate,  reported  to  her  that  behind  the  fer- 
ryman's house,  there  hung  from  the  garret- 
window  a  bulging  bag  full  of  flax-seed ; 
if  one  only  knew  how  to  rip  open  the  seam  a 
little,  one  could  gradually  eat  up  all  the 
tidbits,  but  it  must  be  kept  a  profound 
secret,  else  the  others  would  come  too  ;  and 
hemp-seed,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  was 
just  the  most  precious  good  which  this  whole 
round  earth  could  furnish.  The  rogue  was 
of  the  opinion  that  her  delicate  bill  was 
exactly  the  nice  thing  to  pick  open  the 
seam ;  it  was  the  most  contemptible  base- 
ness in  human  beings,  to  hang  up  in  the 
open  air  just  the  most  tempting  dainties  all 
fastened  and  tied  up. 

A  late-comer,  flying  up  in  breathless 
haste,  announced  that  the  scarecrow,  stand- 
ing in  the  field,  was  nothing  but  a  "stick 
with  clothes  hung  upon  it. 

"  Because  the  stupid  men  believe  in 
scarecrows,  they  think  that  we  do  too," 
laughed  he,  and  flapped  his  wings  in  as- 
tonishment and  pity  at  the  manifest  sim- 
plicity. 


There  was  a  frantic  bustle  in  the  alders 
and  willows,  and  almost  as  frantic  in  the 
great  meadow,  where  the  girls  from  the: 
convent  caught  hold  of  each  other,  chat- 
tered together,  tittered,  teased  one  an- 
other, and  laughed. 

Apart  from  her  noisy  companions,  and 
frequently  passing  under  the  alder-trees 
where  there  was  such  a  merry  gathering 
of  the  birds,  walked  a  girl  slender  in  form 
and  graceful  in  movement,  with  black  hair 
and  brilliant  eyes,  accompanied  by  a  tall 
and  majestic  woman  in  a  nun's  dress, 
whose  bearing  had  an  expression  of  quiet 
and  decisive  energy.  Her  lips  were  natu- 
rally so  pressed  together,  that  the  mouth 
seemed  only  a  narrow  streak  of  red.  The 
entire  brow  was  covered  with  a  white  ker- 
chief, and  the  face,  the  large  eyes,  the 
small  eyebrows,  the  sharp  nose,  the  closely 
pressed  lips,  and  the  projecting  but  rather 
handsome  chin,  had  something  command- 
ing and  immovable. 

"Honored  mother,"  began  the  maiden, 
"  you  have  read  the  letter  from  Fräulein 
Perini  ?  " 

The  nun  —  it  was  the  superior  —  only 
turned  her  face  a  little ;  she  seemed  to  be 
waiting  for  the  maiden  —  it  was  Hermanna 
Sonnenkamp  —  to  speak  further. 

As  Manna,  however,  was  silent,  the  sup- 
erior said :  — 

■ '  Herr  von  Pranken  is  then  to  make 
us  a  visit.  He  is  a  man  of  good  family 
and  good  morals,  he  seems  a  wordling,  but 
he  is  not  one  exactly.  He  has,  indeed,  the 
impatience  of  the  outside  world ;  I  trust, 
however,  that  he  will  not  press  his  wooing 
as  long  as  you  are  here  our  child,  that  is  to 
say,  the  child  of  the  Lord." 

She  spoke  in  a  very  deliberate  tone,  and 
now  stopped. 

' '  Let  us  go  away  from  here ;  the  noise 
of  the  birds  above  there  allows  one  hardly 
to  hear  herself  speak." 

They  went  by  the  churchyard,  in  the 
middle  of  the  island,  to  the  grove  growing 
near  a  small  rocky  ledge,  which  the  chil- 
dren called  the  Switzerland  of  the  island ; 
there  they  sat  down,  and  the  superior  con- 
tinued :  — 

"  I  am  sure  of  you,  my  child,  that  you 
will  decline  hearing  a  word  from  Herr  von 
Pranken  that  has  any  reference  to  protesta- 
tions of  love,  or  to  the  soliciting  your  hand 
in  marriage." 

"You  know,  honored  mother,"  replied 
Manna,  —  her  voice  was  always  pathetic, 
and  as  if  veiled  with  tears,  —  "  you  know, 
honored  mother,  that  I  have  promised  to 
take  the  veil." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  also  do  not  know  it, 


'  THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


113 


for  what  you  now  say  or  determine  is  for 
ns  like  a  word  written  in  the  sand,  which 
the  wind  and  the  footsteps  of  man  may 
efface.  You  must  go  out  again  into  the 
world;  you  must  have  overcome  the  world, 
before  you  renounce  it.  Yes,  my  child ! 
the  whole  world  must  appear  to  you  like 
your  dolls,  which  you  tell  me  of,  — forgot- 
ten, valueless,  dead, — a  child's  toy,  upon 
which  it  is  scarcely  conceivable  that  so 
much  regard,  so  much  love,  should  be 
lavished." 

For  some  time  all  was  still,  nothing  was 
to  be  heard  but  the  song  of  the  nightingale 
in  the  thicket,  and  above  the  river  ravens 
were  flying  in  flocks  and  singing  —  men 
call  it  croaking —  and  soaring  to  their  nests 
in  the  mountain-cliffs. 

"  My  child,"  began  the  superior,  after 
a  while,  "  to-day  is  the  anniversary  of  fny 
mother's  death ;  I  have  to-day  prayed  for 
her  soul  in  eternity,  as  I  did  at  that  time. 
At  the  time  she  died — men  call  it  dying, 
but  it  is  only  the  birth  into  another  life  — 
at  that  time,  my  vow  forbade  me  to  stand 
by  her  death-bed ;  it  cost  me-  hardly  a 
struggle,  for  whether  my  parents  are  still 
out  there  in  the  world,  or  above  there  in 
heaven,  it  makes  no  difference  to  us. 
Look,  the  water  is  now  tinged  with  the 
glow  of  evening,  and  people  outside,  on 
the  hills  and  on  the  banks,  are  speaking  in 
raptures  of  nature,  that  new  idol  which 
they  have  set  up,  for  they  are  the  children 
of  nature ;  but  we  are  to  be  the  children 
of  God,  before  whose  sight  all  nature 
seems  only  a  void,  under  whatever  color 
it  may  appear,  whether  clothed  in  green,  or 
white  with  snow." 

**  I  believe,  I  comprehend  that,"  Manna 
said  assentingly. 

"  That  is  why  I  say  it  to  you,"  continued 
the  worthy  mother.  "It  is  a  great  thing 
to  overcome  the  world,  to  thrust  it  from 
one's  self,  and  never  to  long  for  it  a  single 
instant,  and  to  receive  in  exchange  the 
eternal  blessedness,  even  while  we  dwell 
here  in  the  body.  Yes,  my  child,"  she 
laid  both  hands  upon  the  head  of  Manna, 
and  continued,  "I  would  like  to  give  you 
strength,  my  strength  —  no,  not  m'ine,  that 
which  God  has  lent  me.  Thou  art  to  struggle 
hard  and  bravely  with  the  world,  thou  art 
to  be  tried  and  sifted,  before  thou  comest 
to  us  forever,  to  the  fore-court  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.'" 

Manna  had  closed  her  eyes,  and  in  her. 
soul  was  the  one  only  wish,  that  now  the 
earth  might  open  and  swallow  her  up,  or 
that  some  supernatural  power  would  Come 
and  lift  her  up  over  all.  When  she  opened 
her  eyes,  and  saw  the  marvellous  splendor 


of  the  sunset  sky,  the  violet  haze  of  the 
mountains,  and  the  river  glowing  in  the 
red  beams  of  evening,  she  shut  her  eyes 
again,  and  made  a  repellant  movement  with 
her  hand,  as  if  she  would  have  said, — I 
will  have  nothing  of  thee ;  thou  shalt  be 
naught  to  me ;  thou  art'-only  a  doll,  a  life- 
less thing,  on  which  we  waste  our  love. 

With  trembling  voice  Manna  mourned 
over  her  rent  and  tempest-tossed  spirit ;  a 
few  days  before,  she  had  sung  and  spoken 
the  message  of  the  heralding  angels,  while 
dark  demons  were  raging  within  her.  She 
had  spent  the  whole  day  in  prayer,  that  she 
might  be  worthy  to  announce  such  a  mes- 
sage, and  then  in  the  twilight  a  man  had 
appeared  before  her,  and  her  eye  had  rested 
on  him  with  pleasure ;  it  was  the  tempter 
who  had  approached  her,  and  the  figure 
had  followed  her  into  her  dreams.  She  had 
risen  at  midnight,  and  wept,  and  prayed  to 
God  that  he  would  not  suffer  her  to  fall  into 
sin  and  ruin.  But  she  had  not  conquered. 
She  scorned  and  hated  the  vision,  but  it 
would  not  leave  her.  Now  she  begged  that 
some  penance  might  be  imposed  upon  her, 
that  she  might  be  allowed  to  fast  for  three 
days. 

The  superior  gently  consoled  her,  saying 
that  she  must  not  blame  herself  so  bitterly, 
because  the  self-reproach  increased  the  ex- 
citement of  fancy  and  feeling.  At  the 
season  when  the  elders  were  in  bloom  and 
the  nightingales  sang,  a  maiden  of  seven- 
teen was  apt  to  be  visited  by  dreams ; 
Manna  must  not  weep  over  these  dreams, 
but  jus.t  scare  them  away  and  mock  at  them  ; 
they  were  only  to  be  driven  off  by  ridicule. 

Manna  kissed  the  hands  of  the  superior. 

It  became  dark.  The  sparrows  were  si- 
lent, the  noisy  children  returned  to  the 
house,  and  only  the  nightingale  sang  con- 
tinually in  the  shrubbery.  Manna  turned 
back  to  the  convent,  the  superior  leading' 
her  by  the  hand.  She  went  to  the  large 
dormitory,  and  sprinkled  herself  with  holy 
water.  She  continued  praying  silently  long 
after  she  had  gone  to  bed,  and  fell  asleep 
with  her  hands  folded. 

The  river  swept  rustling  along  the  valley, 
and  swept  rustling  by  the  villa  where  Ro- 
land slept  with  contemptuously  curled  lip ; 
it  rushed  past  the  streets  of  the  little  town 
where  Eric  was  speculating  upon  this  and 
that  in  the  doctor's  house  ;  it  rushed  by  the 
inn  where  Pranken,  leaning  against  the 
window,  stared  over  at  the  convent. 

The  moon  shone  on  the  river,  and  the 
nightingales  sang  on  the  shore,  and  in  the 
houses  thousands  of  people  slept,  forgetting- 
joy  and  sorrow,  until  the  day  again  dawned. 


114  THE  COUNTRY-nOU 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  GREEN  TWIG. 

On  the  west  side  of  the  convent,  under 
the  lofty,  wide-spreading,  thickly-leaved 
chestnut-trees,  beeches,  and  lindens,  and 
far  in  among  the  firs  with  their  fresh  shoots, 
stationary  tables  and  benches  were  ar- 
ranged. Girls  in  blue  dresses  were  sit- 
ting here,  reading,  writing,  or  busy  with 
their  hand-work.  Sometimes  there  was  a 
low  humming,  but  not  louder  than  the  hum- 
ming of  the  bees  in  the  blossoming  chestnut- 
trees  ;  sometimes  a  moving  this  way  and 
that,  a  change  in  one's  position,  but  not 
more  than  the  fluttering  of  a  bird  in  the 
trees  overhead. 

Manna  sat  at  the  table  beneath  a  large 
fir-tree,  and  at  a  little  distance  from  her, 
on  a  low  seat  under  a  lofty  beech  on  whose 
trunk  many  names  were  '  carved,  and  on 
which  was  suspended  a  framed  picture  of 
the  Madonna,  sat  a  little  child  ;  she  looked 
up  frequently  at  Manna,  who  nodded  to 
her.  indicating  that  she  must  study  her 
book  more  diligently,  and  be  as  busy  as  the 
rest.  The  child  was  nicknamed  Heimchen, 
because  she  had  suffered  so  much  from 
homesickness,  and  Heimchen  had  become 
the  pet  of  all  the  girls.  Manna  had  cured 
the  child,  to  all  appearance  at  least,  for  on 
the  day  after  the  representation  of  the 
sacred  play,  she  had  received  permission 
from  a  lay-sister  who  presided  over  the  gar- 
dening, to  prepare  for  the  child  a  separate 
little  garden-pljJt ;  and  now  she  seemed  to 
be  taking  root  in  the  foreign  land,  as  did 
the  plants  which  she  had  since  watered  and 
cared  for,  but  she  was  inseparable  from 
Manna. 

Manna  worked  diligently ;  some  pale 
blue  paper  was  lying  before  her,  and  she 
was  painting  on  it,  with  a  fine  brush,  pic- 
tures of  the  stars  in  color  of  gold  from  small 
shells. 

She  prided  herself  especially  on  having 
the  neatest  writing-books,  every  leaf  ruled 
very  regularly  with  lines  close  together, 
and  uniformly  written  upon,  neither  too 
coarse  nor  too  fine.  Manna  had  received, 
a  few  days  since,  the  highest  mark  of  honor 
ever  conferred  on  a  pupil,  by  being  unani- 
mously made  the  recipient  of  the  blue  rib- 
bon, which  the  three  classes  of  the  children, 
namely,  the  children  of  Jesus,  the  angels  of 
Mary,  and  the  children  of  Mary,  had  ad- 
judged to  her.  There  had  hardly  been  any 
election,  so  much  a  matter  of  course  did  it 
seem  that  nobody  but  Manna  could  be  de- 
signated for  the  blue  ribbon.  This  badge 
of  distinction  gave  her  a  sort  of  right  to  be 
considered  a  superior. 


SE  ON  THE  RHINE. 

While  she  was  thus  drawing,  and  fre- 
quently running  her  eye  over  the  children 
left  under  her  care,  she  had  a  book  open  by 
her  side  ;  it  was  Thomas  a  Kempis.  While 
putting  in  the  stars,  which  she  did  with  that 
delicate  and  beautiful  finish  attainable,  per- 
haps, only  in  the  convent,  she  snatched  a 
few  sentences  out  of  Thomas  ä  Kempis, 
that  her  soul  might  be  occupied  with  higher 
thoughts  during  this  trifling  occupation. 

The  stroke  of  oars  sounded  from  the 
shore  on  that  side :  the  girls  looked  up ;  a 
handsome  young  man  was  standing  in  the 
boat,  who  lifted  his  hat  and  waved  it,  as  if 
saluting  the  island. 

"Is  he  your  brother?  your  cousin?" 
was  whispered  here  and  there. 

No  one  knew  the  stranger. 

The  boat  came  to  land.  The  girls  were 
full  of  curiosity,  but  they  dared  not  inter- 
mit their  work,  for  everything  had  its  al- 
lotted time.  Luckily,  a  tall,  fair-complex- 
ioned  maiden  had  used  up  all  her  green 
worsted,  so  that*  she  must  go  to  the  con- 
vent for  more,  and  she  nodded  significantly 
to  the  others  that  she  would  find  out  who 
was  the  new  arrival.  But  before  the  blond 
girl  could  come  back,  a  serving-sister  ap- 
peared, and  informed  Manna  Sonnenkamp 
that  she  was  to  come  to  the  convent.  Man- 
na arose,  and  Heimchen,  who  wanted  to  go 
with  her,  was  bidden  to  remain ;  the  child 
quietly  seated  herself  again  on  her  little 
stool  under  the  beech-tree  from  which 
hung  the  picture  of  the  Madonna.  Manna 
broke  off  a  little  freshly-budding  twig  from 
the  tree  under  which  she  had  been  sitting, 
and  placed  it  in  her  book  as  a  mark ;  she 
then  followed  the  sister. 

There  was  great  questioning  among  those 
who  remained :  Who  is  he  ?  Is  he  a  cousin  ? 
But  the  Sonnenkamps  have  no  relatives  in 
Europe.    Perhaps  a  cousin  from  America. 

The  children  were  uneasy,  and  seemed 
to  have  no  longer  any  inclination  for  their 
studies.  Manna  had  given  to  a  companion 
the  blue  sash  which  she  wore  on  her  right 
shoulder,  and  this  one  felt  it  incumbent  on 
her  to  keep  strict  order. 

Manna  came  to  the  convent.  As  she  en- 
tered the  reception-room,  to  find  the  lady- 
superior,  Otto  von  Pranken  rose  quickly 
and  bowed. 

"Herr  von  Pranken,"  said  the  superior, 
"brings  you  a  greeting  from  your  parents 
and  Fräulein  Perini." 

Pranken  approached  Manna,  and  ex- 
tended his  hand,  but  as  she  had  the  book 
in  her  right  hand,  she  gave  him  in  a  hesi- 
tating manner  her  left.  Pranken,  the  flu- 
ent talker,  only  stammered  out  —  for  Man- 
na's appearance  had  greatly  impressed  him 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


115 


—  the  expression  of  his  satisfaction  at  see- 
ing Manna  so  well  and  so'much  grown,  and 
of  the  joy  it  would  give  her  parents  and 
Fräulein  Perini  to  see  her  again,  so  much 
improved. 

The  stammering  manner  of  Pranken, 
moved  as  he  was  by  repressed  feeling, 
lasted  while  he  continued  to  speak  further ; 
for  in  the  midst  of  his  involuntary  agitation, 
he  became  suddenly  aware  that  this  evi- 
dent emotion  could  not  fail  to  be  noticed 
by  Manna,  and  must  produce  some  im- 
pression upon  her.  He  skilfully  contrived 
to  keep  up  the  same  tone  with  which  he 
had  begun,  and  congratulated  himself  on 
his  ability  to  play  so  well  a  bashful,  timid, 
and  surprised  part.  He  had  many  animat- 
ing narratives  to  give  of  her  family  at  home, 
and  congratulated  the  maiden  on  being  al- 
lowed to  live  on  a  blissful  island  until  she 
could  return  to  the  mainland,  where  a 
pleasant  company  of  friends  formed  also  a 
social  mainland.  Pranken  contemplated 
with  a  great  deal  of  self-satisfaction  this 
comparison,  as  pretty  as  it  was  new. 

Manna  did  not  say  a  great  deal ;  at  last 
she  asked, — 

"  Who  may  this  Captain  Dournay  be, 
of  whom  Roland  writes  to  me  so  enthusi- 
astically ?  " 

Pranken  winced  a  little,  but  he  said 
smilingly, — 

' '  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  poor 
young  man  to  instruct  our  Roland  —  per- 
mit me  to  speak  of  him  so,  for  I  love  him 
like  a  brother  —  in  a  variety  of  matters. 
I  think  that  it  will  do  Roland  no  harm  to 
acquire  information  from  the  man." 

"  Roland  writes  me  that  he  is  an  intimate 
friend  of  yours."  N 

"  Herr  Dournay  has  probably  said  so  to 
him,  and  I  will  not  contradict  it,  if  Ro- 
land is  thus  led  to  entertain  a  higher  re- 
spect for  a  teacher.  But,  my  dear  Fräu- 
lein, I  may  venture  to  say  to  you  that  I  am 
somewhat  sparing  in  the  use  of  the  word 
friend,  and  I  would  therefore  rather  not  —  " 

"  Then  tell  me  something  of  the  charac- 
ter of  this  man  who  calls  himself  your 
friend." 

"Excuse  me  from  giving  the  particular 
details.  You  yourself  will  certainly  agree 
with  me,  that  it  is  our  duty  to  help  toward 
the  good  one  who  is  striving  to  turn  from 
the  error  of  his  ways,  even  if  we  cannot 
wholly  blot  out  the  past." 

"What,  then,  has  this  Herr  Dournay 
done?"  interposed  the  superior.  "I 
should  be  sorry  on  his  mother's  account, 
who  was  a  companion  of  my  youth ;  she  is 
a  Protestant,  to  be  sure,  but  she  is  what 
the  world  calls  good  and  noble." 


Pranken  appeared  perplexed,  but  with  a 
motion  of  the  hand  which  implied  careful 
consideration,  kind  intentions,  and  a  sort  of 
delicate  reservation,  he  said,  looking  down 
at  the  floor, — 

"Honored  mother,  and  dear  Fräulein! 
Spare  me  from  making  such  a  statement 
here  in  the  convent,  and  consider  what  I 
have  touched  upon  as  if  it  had  not  been  said. 
When  I  look  around  me  here  —  as  little 
ought  certain  words,  not  perhaps  so  inap- 
propriate in  the  world  outside,  to  be  spoken 
aloud  in  this  pure  air,  as  unsaintly  pictures, 
to  use  a  mild  expression,  to  hang  by  the 
side  of  the  pious,  transfigured  forms  upon 
these  pure  walls.  Permit  me  to  say  to  you, 
I  have  special  guaranties  that  the  poor 
young  man  will  not  conduct  himself  un- 
worthily." 

Manna's  countenance  suddenly  assumed 
an  expression  of  noble  indignation  as  she 
said, — 

"But  I  cannot  conceive  how  they  can 
commit  my  brother  to  the  charge  of  a  man, 
who  — ••" 

Pranken  prayed  to  be  excused  for  inter- 
rupting her.  He  conjured  her  by  what  was 
high  and  holy,  to  forget  that  he,  in  his  zeal 
for  the  truth,  had  said  anything  against  a 
former  comrade ;  he  had  done  it  involun- 
tarily in  his  contemplation  of  purity  and 
loveliness.  He  besought  so  earnestly,  he 
manifested  so  good  a  heart,  so  full  of  hu- 
man love,  that  Manna  now  voluntarily  ex- 
tended to  him  her  hand,  and  said, — 

"I  believe  you.  Ah,  how  rejoiced  I  am 
you  are  so  good !  " 

Pranken  was  happy,  but  determined  that 
Eric  should  not  be  received  into  the  family. 
It  seemed  more  and  more  puzzling  to  him 
that  he  should  himself  have  raised  up  such 
an  antagonist ;  he  was  now  doubly  out  of 
humor  with  Eric,  for  he  had  been  the  oc- 
casion of  his  being  untrue  and  unjust,  and 
Pranken  was  too  proud  to  be  so  misled,  es- 
pecially when  a  little  caution  on  his  own 
part  might  have  prevented  the  necessity  of 
it. 

"  Might  I  venture  to  request  you  to  show 
me  the  lines  ?  "  he  now  said.  "  My  object 
is  to  see  how  good  a  judge  of  men  Roland 
has  become.  Would  you  be  willing  t: 
show  me  what  our  splendid  brother  ha 
written  of  this  Herr  Dournay  ?  " 

Manna  blushed,  and  replied  that  they 
had  better  say  no  more  about  the  captain  ; 
and  she  besought  Pranken  to  do  all  he 
could  to  remove  the  man  out  of  the  house, 
if  it  were  still  a  possible  thing.  Pranken 
promised  to  do  all  in  his  power,  and  he  re- 
covered his  natural  elasticity  while  he 
prayed  Manna,  in  a  lively  tone,  but  sub- 


116 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


dued  to  the  proprieties  of  the  place,  that 
instead  of  giving  him  so  easy  a  task,  she 
would  commission  him,  like  a  knight  of  the 
good  old  times,  to  contend  against  the 
dragon-brood.  And  yet,  while  calling  it 
easy,  he  felt  in  his  own  heart  that  the  task 
could  not  rightly  be  called  so. 

The  superior  rose ;  she  thought  that  it 
was  high  time,  and  a  good  time,  too,  to 
break  otf  the  conversation.  Pranken  had 
renewed  his  acquaintance,  and  that  must 
suffice  for  the  present.  The  superior  was 
not  so  resolutely  bent  upon  the  convent 
for  Manna,  as  to  desire  that  Pranken  might 
not  win  her  affections.  Such  a  house  and 
such  a  family,  endowed  with  such  includible 
wealth,  might  be  of  great  advantage  to  the 
convent  and  to  the  Church. 

"  It  was  very  kind  in  you  to  visit  us,'1 
she  now  said.  "  Carry  my  greeting,  I  pray, 
to  your  sister,  the  Countess  Bella,  and  say 
to  her  that  she  is  remembered  in  my 
prayers.11 

Pranken  saw  that  he  was  expected  to 
take  leave,  and  yet  he  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing more  definite,  and  to  hear  some  word 
which  should  give  him  the  desired  security. 
His  countenance  suddenly  lighted  up,  as  he 
said,  with  such  modesty  and  such  friendly 
feeling  that  one  could  not  refuse  compli- 
ance, — 

"Fräulein  Manna!  We  erring  crea- 
tures outside  like  to  have  a  lasting  token 
in  our  hands.11 

"What  do  you  want?11  quickly  and 
sharply  struck  in  the  superior. 

"Honored  mother!  I  would  beseech 
you,11  Pranken  said,  turning  quickly  with 
humble  mien  toward  the  severe  lady,  "I 
would  beseech  you  to  permit  Fräulein  Son- 
nenkamp to  give  that  book  into  my  hand.11 

"  Wonderful !  "  cried  Manna,  "  I  wanted 
to  do  that !  I  wanted  to  give  it  to  you  to 
carry  to  my  brother.  Ask  him  to '  read 
every  day  a  chapter,  beginning  from  the 
place  where  the  green  twig  is  put,  so  that 
he  may  receive  every  daythe  same  thoughts 
into  his  soul  that  I  do.11 

"  What  happiness  this  harmony  of  feel- 
ing, this  oneness  of  sentiment,  gives  me ! 
It  would  be  a  profanation  to  try  to  describe 
it!11 

The  superior  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do, 
and  Pranken  continued :  — 

"I  beseech  you,  then,  my  honored  Fräu- 
lein, to  pardon  my  presumption ;  I  would 
like  to  request  you  to  give  me  this  holy 
book  for  my  own  edification,  and  that  I 
too  may  be  allowed  to  keep  even  step  with 
your  brother  and  you.11 

"But  my  name  is  written  in  the  book,11 
said  Manna,  blushing. 


"  So  much  the  better,"  Pranken  wanted 
to  say,  but  luckily  he  was  able  to  withhold 
it;  he  turned  to  the  superior,  folded  his 
hands,  and  stood  as  if  praying  her  to  grant 
his  petition.  The  superior  nodded  her 
head  several  times,  and  at  last  said,  — 

"My  child,  you  may,  perhaps,  comply 
with  this  request  of  Herr  von  Pranken. 
And  now,  farewell.11 

Pranken  received  the  book.  He  left  the 
convent.  As  he  sat  in  the  boat,  the  ferry- 
man said  to  him,  — 

"  Perhaps  some  maiden  over  there  is  be- 
trothed to  you  ? 11 

Pranken  did  not  reply,  but  he  gave  the 
I  ferryman  a  whole  handful  of  money.  His 
heart  throbbing  with  bliss,  Pranken  rushed 
up  the  bank,  and  immediately  sent  a  tele- 
gram* to  his  sister. 

CHAPTER  III. 
HERCULES  IN  A  HAIR-DRESSER'S  SHOP. 

The  telegraphist  was  very  much  aston- 
ished, but  did  not  dare  to  express  his  sur- 
prise, when  the  handsome,  noble  young 
man,  with  the  polished  exterior  and  the  un- 
assuming air,  through  which  there  was 
plainly  discernible  a  feeling  of  condescen- 
sion towards  a  public*  officer,  handed  in  a 
telegram  mysteriously  worded,  and  running 
thus : — 

"  God  be  praised  !  a  green  twig  from  the 
island  of  felicity.  New  genealogical  tree. 
Heavenly  manna.  Endless  possessions. 
A  consecrated  one,  new-born. 

"  Otto  von  Pranken." 

Pranken  walked  about  in  the  tasteful, 
well-arranged  grounds  of  the  station, 
looked  up  to  the  mountains,  down  to  the 
river,  to  the  island ;  the  whole  world  was 
as  if  freshly  created  to  him,  he  seemed  to 
himself  in  a  new  earth  ;  a  veil  was  removed 
from  everything,  and  all  was  ravishingly 
beautiful.  In  a  copse,  where  no  one  saw 
him,  he  knelt  down  ;  and  while  he  knelt  he 
felt  inexpressibly  happy,  and  as  if  he  never 
wished  to  rise  again.  He  heard  a  noise  in 
his  vicinity,  stood  upright,  and  brushed  his 
knees  carefully.  It  was  nothing  but  a 
beggar  that  disturbed  him.  Without  wait- 
ing to  be  spoken  to,  Pranken  gave  him  a 
considerable  sum  of  money,  and  after  the 
beggar  had  gone  away,  he  called  him  back 
and  gave  him  as  much  again. 

The  air  was  loaded  with  aromatic  fra- 
grance, intermingled  with  that  delicate  res- 
inous perfume  that  comes  from  the  opening 
buds ;  innumerable  rose-buds  hung  from 
the  trellises,  as  if  waiting  for  the  word  to 
open ;  from  the  steep  wall  of  rock,  where  a 


ft 

THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE.  117 


passage  for  the  railroad  had  been  cut,  a 
cuckoo  called,  and  ■  thousands  of  birds 
joined  in  with  their  song.  The  whole 
world  was  full  of  blossoming  fragrance  and 
musio  of  birds, — all  was  redeemed,  ran- 
somed, blessed. 

The  people  at  the  station  thought  that  the 
young  man  who  was  thus  walking  to  and 
fro,  sometimes  hurrying,  sometimes  stand- 
ing still,  sometimes  looking  up,  and  then 
casting  his  eyes  to  the  ground,  must  be 
expecting  a  relative  by  the  next  train  ;  but 
Pranken  was  waiting  for  no  person  and  no 
thing.  What  could  there  be  in  the  world 
to  come  to  him  ?  He  had  everything. 
He  could  not  conceive  how  he  could  stay 
here,  and  Manna  be  over  there  ;  no  moment 
ought  to  pass  away  without  their  being 
together,  one,  inseparable. 

A  finch  now  flew  away  from  the  tree 
beneath  which  he  was  standing;  it  flew 
over  the  river  to  the  island.  Ah!  could  I 
also  fly  over  and  look  at  her  and  greet  her 
from  the  tree,  and  at  evening  fly  to  her 
window-sill,  and  look  upon  her  until  she 
went  to  sleep,  and  in  the  morning  when  she 
awoke ! 

All  the  feelings  that  ever  moved  the 
heart  of  youth  now  took  possession  of 
Pranken,  and  he  was  frightened  at  himself, 
when  that  demon  of  vanity  and  self-conceit, 
whose  growth  he  had  so  fostered  within 
him,  whispered  in  his  ear,  Thou  art  a  noble, 
enthusiastic  youth  !  All  great  qualities  are 
thine !  He  now  hated  this  evil  spirit,  and 
he  found  means  of  driving  him  out. 

He  sat  in  a  retired  arbor  and  read  in 
Thomas  a  Kempis.  He  read  the  admoni- 
tion :  "  Learn  to  rule  thyself,  and  then  thou 
canst  rule  the  things  of  the  world*."  Pran- 
ken had,  until  now,  regarded  life  as  a  light 
jest,  not  worth  the  trouble,  indeed,  of 
attempting  to  do  any  thing  with  it.  He 
had  that  contemptuous  tone  with  which  one 
orders  a  poodle  to  jump  over  a  stick,  and 
he  looked  up  amazed  as  to  what  this  should 
mean. 

Is  it  possible  that  there  is  such  a  way  of 
thinking  as  this,  even  in  those  who  belong 
to  the  church  ?  "In  my  father's  house  are 
many  mansions,  and  perhaps,  it  is  very  well 
to  show  for  once  to  the  children  of  the 
world,  that  they  are  not  the  sole  possessors 
of  the  right  to  sport  freely  with  the  world.1' 

All  was  to  Pranken  more  and  more  amaz- 
ing, more  and  more  enigmatical,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  more  and  more  illuminated.  If 
the  buds  there  upon  the  hedge  could  tell, 
in  the  moment  when  they  open,  how  the 
light  thrills  through  them,  it  would  be  like 
what  was  now  taking  place  in  the  soul  of 
this  young  man.    And  if  a  man,  who  had 


heard  the  old  legend  without  believing  it, 
should  find  down  there  in  the  river  the 
Niebelungen  treasure,  the,  old,  beautiful, 
splendid,  rare  and  solid  jewelry  —  he  would 
feel  as  Pranken  did  when  he  really  discov- 
ered, for  the  first  time,  the  Christian  doc- 
trine in  this  searching  and  impressive  little 
book.  All  is  here  so  comprehensive,  ex- 
pressing thine  own  inner  conflicting  desires, 
and  expressing  them  with  such  tenderness, 
and  disclosing  their  secret  springs,  and 
giving  too,  the  directions  how  thou  canst 
lay  aside  what  is  wrong,  and  make  the  true 
thine  own. 

Pranken  sat  there  a  long  time  in  a  rev- 
erie ;  railway  trains  came,  railway  trains 
went ;  boats  went  up  and  down  the  river, 
but  Pranken  heard  and  saw  all  as  if  it  were 
only  a  dream.  The  noon-day  bell  at  the 
convent  first  aroused  him.  He  went  to  the 
inn. 

He  met  here  a  comrade,  who  was  making 
a  wedding  tour  with  his  young  bride. 
Pranken  was  warmly  welcomed  ;  they  were 
very  glad  to  meet  him.  Pranken  must  join 
a  water-party  on  an  excursion  to  the  moun- 
tains, after  dinner ;  but  he  cfeclined,  he  knew 
not  why.  -  But  he  looked  at  the  young 
bride  and  bridegroom  with  gleaming  eyes ; 
so  will  it  be, — so  will  it  be,  when  he 
journeys  with  Manna  !  It  thrilled  him  with 
ecstasy  to  think  that  he  should  be  alone 
with  her,  alone  out  in  the  wide  world ! 
Why  can  he  not,  even  now,  go  for  her  and 
bring  her  out  ?  He  promised  to  himself  to 
learn  patience. 

They  were  very  merry  at  dinner-time, 
and  Pranken  was  delighted  that  he  could 
still  crack  his  old  jokes ;  his  comrade 
should  not  have  a  fine  story  to  tell  at  the 
military-club,  its  members  should  not  have 
a  chance  to  jeer ;  and  the  stout  Kannen- 
berg should  not  bet  a  flask  of  Canary  that 
this  pious  mood  was  only  one  of  Pranken's 
whims.  Pranken  brought  out  his  witti- 
cisms as  if  he  had  learned  them  by  rote, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  a  century  ago,  almost 
as  if  it  had  . been  in  a  previous  state  of  ex- 
istence, that  there  had  been  such  a  thing  as 
appearing  on  parade. 

At  table,  Pranken  heard  accidentally  that, 
on  the  next  day,  a  pilgrimage  was  to  leave 
the  town  near  by  with  great  pomp.  The 
new-married  couple  took  counsel  whether 
they  should  not  be  spectators  of  the  display  at 
the  place  of  pilgrimage  ;  they  would  decide 
in  the  evening. 

After  Pranken  had  accompanied  them  to 
the  boat,  he  went  to  the  station,  and  took 
a  ticket  for  town  ;  he  was  glad  to  be  able  to 
be  in  time  for  the  evening  service  at  the 
cathedral.     He    reached   the   town  and 


118  THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


smiled  compassionately,  when  obliging  ser- 
vants in  the  streets  offered  themselves  as 
guides  to  places  of  amusements  ;  he  smiled 
compassionately,  when  a  servant  in  the 
church  asked  the  "  gracious  gentleman," 
whether  he  should  show  him  everything. 
Pranken  knelt  among  the  worshippers. 

Refreshed,  and  satisfied  with  himself,  he 
left  the  church.  He  strolled  through  the 
town,  and  stood  long  before  a  hair-dresser's 
shop.  No  one  would  have  thought,  and 
Otto  von  Pranken  least  of  all,  that  there 
was  a  battle-field  destined  for  him,  not  out- 
side in  the  wild  contest  of  arms,  but  before 
a  great  window  filled  with  various  perfumes, 
false  hair  for  men  and  women,  with  dolls' 
heads,  whose  glass  eyes  stared  under  the 
artificial  brows  and  lashes.  Over  the  door 
was  printed  in  golden  letters,  "Hair-dress- 
ing and  shaving  done  here."  Is  it  not 
laughable  that  a  battle  is  to  be  fought  here  ? 
so  far  from  being  laughable,  it  is  serious, 
bitter,  earnest. 

Pranken  had  made  a  heroic  resolve  to 
take  part  in  the  pilgrimage,  and  indeed  he 
wanted  to  unite  himself  with  the  pilgrims  in 
a  humble  manner,  and  join  in  their  prayers 
and  mortifications.  And  in  the  meanwhile, 
not  to  attract  attention,  and  all  alone,  to 
allow  the  change  to  proceed  silently  in  him- 
self, it  seemed  expedient,  first  to  get  rid  of 
his  very  noticeable  whiskers  and  mous- 
taches ;  and  it  was  very  important  to  make 
recognition  difficult,  for  he  feared  that  some 
one  might  meet  him  and  change  his  deter- 
mination, and  other  people  be  guilty  of  the 
sin  of  mockery.  And  he  was  especially 
troubled  in  regard  to  the  young  married 
couple,  who  wished  to  make  the  pilgrimage. 
He  would  be  one  of  the  sights  of  their 
journey  which  they  could  talk  of  on  their 
return  home.  And,  besides,  how  many 
might  be  seduced  into  impiety  by  laughing 
over  it,  and  they  certainly  would  laugh  at 
Otto  von  Pranken's  being  among  the  pil- 
grims !  Therefore,  for  your  own  sake,  and 
that  of  others,  you  must  be  disguised  some- 
what. 

So  with  heroic  resolution  —  and  it  was 
certainly  heroic,  for  who  would  be  willing 
to  deprive  himself  of  an  ornament  so  highly 
prized  and  not  to  be  replaced  at  pleasure  ?  — 
Pranken  entered  the  fragrant  shop,  sat 
down  in  an  arm-chair,  and  looked  at  his 
beard  and  moustache  reflected  in  a  great 
mirror  hanging  opposite.  His  eyes  almost 
overflowed.  A  great  white  apron,  a  true 
sacrificial  mantle  for  the  sacrificial  lamb, 
was  thrown  over  him,  and  an  exceedingly 
polite  young  man,  who  had  no  suspicion 
of  the  priestly  office  assigned  to  him, 
asked,  — 


"Does  the  gracious  gentleman  wish  to 
be  shaved,  or  to  be  curled  ?  " 

"Curled,"  answered  Pranken,  quick  as 
lightning,  for  it  came  to  him  like  an  in- 
spiration, that  he  would  mingle  with  the 
pilgrims  curled  and  elegantly  dressed ;  this 
would  be  a  fuller  and  deeper  confession, 
and  it  would  bring  more  honor  to  the 
sanctuaries,  if  it  were /seen  that  a  man  of 
rank,  evidently  a  military  officer,  offered  to 
them  his  veneration. 

Finally,  with  hair  nicely  dressed,  Pran- 
ken went  out  of  the  shop,  and  in  all  the 
large  windows  of  all  the  stores  he  passed, 
he  looked  not  without  satisfaction  at  his 
rescued  treasure, — his  beard  and  mous- 
tache. 

He  smiled  victoriously  upon  the  world. 

Pranken  knew  of  an  inn,  in  the  town, 
which  was  the  resort  of  the  elite  of  the  no- 
bility, and  he  went  there  hoping  to  find 
some  companion  of  equal  rank,  and  with 
the  firm  determination  to  induce  him  to  go 
on  the  pilgrimage  with  him.  He  found  no, 
one  whom  he  knew,  and  he  could  not  re- 
main in  the  public  parlor,  for  he  saw  there, 
on  entering,  a  famous  actress,  who  was  ful- 
filling here  a  star  engagement,  and  whom 
he  had  formerly  known ;  he  pretended  not 
to  recognize  her  and  withdrew  to  his  own 
room. 

The  morning  came ;  the  bells  rang  for  the 
pilgrims  to  take  their  departure.  Pranken 
formed  a  weighty  resolve.  Nothing  hasty ! 
he  said  to  himself.  Make  no  show  !  Give 
the  world  no  opportunity  for  misconstruc- 
tion !  One  has  a  duty  to  perform  to  the 
world  and  to  the  past !  One  must  be  put- 
ting off  the  old  man,  by  degrees,  and  let 
the  new  man  be  unfolded. 

From  the  window  of  the  inn  Pranken  saw 
the  pilgrims  go  forth,  as  he  puffed  clouds 
of  smoke  from  his  cigar.  Then  he  went  to 
the  station,  bought  a  ticket,  and  returned 
to  Wolfsgarten. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
BITTER  ALMONDS. 

In  the  country  where  the  tankard  rules, 
the  ladies  assemble  to  take  coffee,  and  wine 
and  coffee  are  equal  in  this  respect,  that 
they  can  be  had  at  all  seasons  of  the  year. 
In  spring  and  summer,  it  is  pleasant  to  drink 
them  on  a  gentle  eminence,  in  a  shady 
arbor  where  there  is  a  fine  view  of  the 
country  around ;  in  autumn  and  winter,  in 
comfortable  rooms  furnished  with  an  abund- 
ance of  sofa-cushions,  embroidered  in  pat- 
terns of  parrots  or  fat  woolly  dogs. 

The  coffee-party  has  the  advantage  of 
being  given  in  succession  by  various  per- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


119 


sons,  and  as  the  pint  of  wine  is  not  strictly 
a  pint,  but  can  be  increased  at  pleasure,  so 
coffee  is  only  a  modest  expression  for  the 
May-bowls  and  fruits  of  the  culinary  art 
which  follow  it ;  and  a  hostess  who  wishes 
to  do  something  surpassing  the  rest  sends 
to  the  great  city  for  ice,  to  be  brought  over 
the  railroad. 

The  Justice's  wife  led  off  in  the  spring 
coffee-parties.  The  little  garden  behind 
the  house  was  very  pleasant,  where  the 
lilacs  were  blooming  in  ail  their  glory,  but 
the  surrounding  houses  overlooked  it,  and 
it  was  better  to  have  the  party  in  the  best 
parlor  opening  upon  the  balcony. 

The  rustling  chintz  covers  were  taken 
off  the  sofa-cushions.  The  invitations  were 
sent  out,  among  the  rest  to  the  Countess 
Wolfsgarten,  who  had  returned  an  accept- 
ance ;  but  the  regular  course  of  proceeding 
was,  that  about  an  hour  before  the  ap- 
pointed time,  a  delicately  scented,  prettily 
written  note  should  arrive,  in  which  Frau 
Bella  expressed  her  regret  that  an  unfortu- 
nate head-ache  would  deprive  her  of  the 
long  anticipated  pleasure  of  meeting  the 
highly  respected  wife  of  the  Justice,  and 
her  much  esteemed  company. 

To-day,  contrary  to  all  expectation,  the 
Countess  had  come  herself,  and  had  indeed 
arrived  before  any  of  the  rest  of  the  party, 
which  was  not  exactly  the  thing  in  fashion- 
able society. 

The  Justice's  wife  sent  Lina  directly  into 
the  state  parlor  to  place  one  more  chair, 
for  they  had  felt  quite  sure  that  the  Countess 
would  not  come. 

"I  expect  my  brother  to  day,  he  has 
been  down  the  Rhine,"  Frau  Bella  soon 
said. 

She  did  in  fact  wish  to  carry  her  brother 
home  from  the  town,  that  she  might  hear 
more  of  Manna  and  the  enigmatical  tel- 
egram ;  but  she  had  a  second  purpose  in 
view,  and  an  opportunity  of  carrying  it  out 
soon  presented  itself. 

The  Justice's  wife  complained  that  Cap- 
tain and  Doctor  Dournay — "  what  is  one  to 
call  him  —  ?  M 

"  Call  him  simply  doctor." 

That  Doctor  Dournay,  then,  had  paid  a 
visit  to  the  priest,  to  the  major,  and  to  the 
physician.  The  Major's  housekeeper  had 
told  the  beadle  a  great  deal  about  him.  But 
very  singularly,  though  he  seemed  to  be  a 
man  of  excellent  manners,  he  had  neglected 
the  very  central  point  of  the  town,  which 
was  certainly  the  Justice's  court.  He  had 
certainly  apologized  very  humbly  when 
he  spent  the  night  at  the  doctor's,  and  the 
doctor's  wife  said  that  he  was  soon  to  re- 
turn and  enter  Sonnenkamp's  service  with  a 


salary  more  than,  double  that  of  a  Justice. 
Herr  von  Pranken  had  done  a  very  kind 
thing  in  getting  this  position  for  the  young 
man,  who,  it  was  to  be  hoped,  would  show 
himself  worthy  of  his  recommendation. 

Bella  nodded  acquiescingly,  and  praised 
the  Justice's  wife  for  acknowledging  in  so 
friendly  a  manner  the  kindness  which  it 
was  a  duty  to  show  to  an  unfortunate  man, 
but  added  that  she  must  certainly  see  the 
danger  also,  that  an  untrustworthy  man 
could  be  injured  in  no  way  more  than  by 
benefits,  which  served  only  to  nourish  ene- 
mies, who  lay  in  wait  for  the  right  moment 
to  show  themselves  in  their  true  light. 

The  Justice's  wife  was  delighted  with  the 
manner  in  which  this  lady  of  acknowledged 
intellect  dressed  up  her  own  plain  common- 
sense  so  finely.  She  assented,  and  felt 
much  pleased  with  the  idea,  that,  as  soon 
as  one  enjoyed  personal  intercourse  with 
the  Countess  Wolfsgarten,  one  could  think 
more  clearly  and  understand  everything  bet- 
ter. Both  ladies  smiled  contentedly,  and 
each  declared  that  the  other  was  dressed 
most  becomingly  and  tastefully,  though  of 
course  with  the  acknowledgment  that  Frau 
Bella  was  the  most  marked  in  this  respect, 
for  to  attempt  to  rival  her  would  be  folly. 

Bella  certainly  looked  very  animated. 
She  spoke  lightly  —  for  the  matter  must 
not  be  misrepresented  —  of  the  slight  at- 
tack of  illness  which  the  Count  had  had  at 
Villa  Eden,  when  "Herr  Dournay"  who 
had  lifted  him  had  behaved  right  bravely. 
The  Justice's  wife  launched  out  in  praise  of 
the  Count,  and  of  the  care  which  was  taken 
of  his  life. 

Frau  Bella  led  the  conversation  back, 
and  with  cautious  circumspection  insinuated 
that  Eric  had  omitted  a  visit  to  the  Justice, 
because  he  felt  a  certain  shyness  of  legal 
tribunals,  and  still  more  of  all  faithful  ser- 
vants of  the  reigning  king. 

With  considerable  eagerness,  the  Jus- 
tice's wife  pressed  for  further  information, 
and  under  a  promise  of  strict  secrecy  — 
though,  of  course,  the  Justice  must  know 
all  —  she  was  informed  that  people  knew  of 
certain  political  declarations,  even  of  printed 
announcements  in  a  foreign  paper,  or  rather 
a  paper  published  beyond  the  boundary 
line,  which  had  induced  the  former  Lieu- 
tenant Dournay  to  ask  for  his  discharge, 
before  it  was  given  him  without  hii  asking. 

"  Then  why  was  the  rank  of  captain 
given  him  ?  "  asked  the  Justice's  wife. 

"  You  question  with  as  much  shrewdness 
as  the  Justice  himself,"  replied  Bella. 

She  did  not  seem  prepared  for  this  in- 
quiry, and  only  said  that  it  was  not  for  her 
to  wish  to  stand  in  the  way  of  a  poor  young 


120 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


man's  earning  a  living.  Very  likely  it  had 
been  done — at  this  point  she  seized  the 
hand  of  the  Justice's  wife  and  held  it  be- 
tween her  own,  as  if  signifying  that  she  was 
entrusting  a  great  secret  to  her  charge  — 
very  likely  it  had  been  done  for  the  sake 
of  his  mother,  who  had  been  a  favorite 
lady  of  honor  to  the  dowager  princess ;  of 
course  the  matter  was  kept  as  quiet  as  pos- 
sible. 

Bella  tried  to  put  on  a  pleased  smile,  and 
to  repress  an  expression  of  mild  compassion, 
when  the  Justice's  wife  said, — 

"  There  my  husband  guessed  right  again. 
As  we  were  driving  home  from  your  recep- 
tion —  ah,  what  a  pleasant,  cheerful  time 
we  had  —  my  husband  said  to  me  and  my 
daughter,  '  Children,  I  tell  you,  this  Herr 
Dournay  is  a  dangerous  man.'  Oh,  men  are 
always  more  keen-sighted,  and  know  more 
about  each  other  than  we  women  can  ever 
find  out." 

She  seemed  to  be  losing  herself  in  general 
reflections  on  mankind,  which  she  liked  to 
make,  saying  that  any  one  who  lived  over  a 
ground-floor  full  of  legal  documents  took  a 
very  gloomy  view  of  men. 

This  did  not  seem  to  be  what  Bella 
wanted  to-day.  She  asked  very  carelessly, — 

44  Has  your  husband  spoken  to  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp of  his  very  sagacious  opinion  that 
this  Herr  Doctor  Dournay  is  a  dangerous 
man  ?  " 

44  It's  true  that  would  be  proper,"  said 
the  Justice's  wife.  44  Will  you  not  tell  my 
husband,  gracious  lady,  that  he  ought  to 
make  his  views  known  ?  He  doesn't  heed 
me,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  but  he  is  glad  to  do 
anything  for  you." 

44  Don't  ask  me,"  Bella  replied.  44  You 
must  see  that  I  cannot  mix  myself  up  in 
this  affair.  My  brother  has  a  sort  of  re- 
gard toward  his  former  comrade  although 
they  were  not  in  the  same  regiment,  and 
my  husband  has  taken  a  morbid,  I  mean  en- 
thusiastic fancy  to  the  young  man.  You 
are  quite  right ;  your  husband  is  bound  —  " 

Bella  did  her  work  so  securely,  that  she 
felt  sure  that  the  Justice  would  go  to  Son- 
nenkamp before  evening,  and  Herr  Dournay 
might  make  the  most  of  his  confident  bear- 
ing somewhere  else,  for  Bella  wished,  on 
many  accounts,  that  Eric  should  not  be  es- 
tablished in  the  neighborhood ;  he  caused 
her  uneasinsss,  almost  pain  indeed.  As 
she  tapped  one  hand  with  the  closed  fan 
which  she  held  tightly  grasped  in  the  other, 
she  inwardly  repeated  the  words  of  the  Jus- 
tice :  This  Dournay  is  a  dangerous  man. 

The  Justice's  wife  was  a  woman  of  demo- 
cratic principles  ;  she  was  the  daughter  of 


a  Chief-Justice  who  had  offered  unbending 
resistance  at  the  time  when  Metternich 
ruled  Germany,  and,  besides,  she  had  a  com- 
fortable property  of  her  own,  which  helps 
one  to  keep  to  liberal  ideas.  She  felt  a 
sort  of  democratic  pride  in  not  yielding 
anything  to  the  nobility ;  but  she  saw  in 
Frau  Bella  an  amiable,  highly  intellectual 
lady,  and  she  submitted  to  her,  without  ac- 
knowledging to  herself  that  her  submission 
amounted  to  subserviency  toward  a  coun- 
tess. Bella  was  acute  enough  to  see  and 
understand  it  all,  and  treated  the  Justice's 
wife  with  that  confidence  which  is  shown 
only  to  equals ;  but  she  took  care  to  be 
more  than  usually  amiable,  that  the  Jus- 
tice's wife  might  attribute  her  visit  to  some 
other  than  the  real  object. 

Lina  entered  the  room,  looking  like  a 
charming  little  housekeeper  in  her  blue 
dress,  and  high-necked,  white  apron.  Her 
mother  sent  her  away  again  very  soon,  as 
the  child  must  not  be  present  if  the  gra- 
cious lady  had  still  any  private  matter  to 
speak  of. 

44  Your  dear  child  has  developed  finely, 
and  she  speaks  very  good  French." 

44  Thank  you,"  said  the  mother."  44 1 
don't  know  much  of  the  young  people  of 
the  present  day ;  but  Lina  is  still  so  slow, 
there's  nothing  piquant  about  her,  and  she 
is  frightfully  simple.  Just  think,  the  child 
has  formed  a  fancy  —  how  she  ever  got 
hold  of  such  ideas  in  the  convent,  is  a  mys- 
tery to  me — but  only  imagine,  she  believes 
that  this  Herr  Captain  Dournay  has  forced 
himself  in  as  Roland's  tutor,  only  because  he 
is  secretly  in  love  with  Fräulein  Manna, 
whom  he  saw  at  the  convent." 

Frau  Bella  pretended  much  surprise,  and 
heard  the  story  of  the  meeting  with  Eric 
again,  but  the  Justice's  wife  soon  led  the 
conversation  back  to  the  failure  of  all  her 
efforts  to  make  Lina  a  wide-awake  girl. 

Frau  Bella  might  have  said  to  her,  if  she 
had  been  disposed,  You  want  to  change 
this  child,  who  has  no  special  talent  or 
beauty,  from  her  genuineness  and  open- 
ness ;  you  are  continually  teasing  her  to  be 
lively,  arch,  and  merry,  to  sing  and  to 
jump !  You  want  to  turn  your  fair-com- 
plexioned  daughter  with  clear,  light-blue 
eyes,  into  a  dark-haired  maiden  with  flash- 
ing brown  eyes  !  Frau  Bella  might  have 
said  all  this,  but  she  did  not.  She  pressed 
her  thin  lips  close  together ;  her  nostrils 
quivered  ;  she  despised,  at  this  moment,  the 
whole  of  mankind.  She  was  spared  the 
necessity  of  saying  anything,  however,  for 
the  ladies  who  were  invited  came  in  suc- 
cessively.   They  were  particularly  glad  to 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OST  THE  RHINE. 


121 


meet  the  Countess  Wolfsgarten,  and  yet 
every  one  was  a  little  vexed  that  she  could 
not  be  the  first  in  dress  and  appearance. 

Ah,  such  a  coffee-party  of  the  fair  sex ! 

There  are  some  things,  institutions,  and 
arrangements,  that  have  received  a  bad 
name,  and  cannot  get  rid  of  it  again  :  this 
is  the  case  with  this  fine  institution  of  cof- 
fee-drinking. As  soon  as  any  favorable 
mention  is  made  of  it,  every  hearer  and 
reader  is  convinced  that  is  only  downright 
irony,  or  a  good-humored  jest ;  for  it  has 
been  settled,  once  for  all,  that  this  coffee- 
drinking  of  the  ladies  is  only  a  hoax,  and  a 
pretence  of  kindly  intercourse,  with  the 
participants.  And  yet  this  institution  is  a 
very  excellent  one,  except  when  cards  are 
introduced,  and  they  carry  it  so  far  as  to 
get  up  a  regular  gambling-party,  as  do  the 
ladies  at  the  small  capitals,  who  have  a 
handsome  book  with  black  morocco-bind- 
ing, lettered  on  the  back,  **■  Hours  of  Med- 
itation,'1 but  containing,  inside,  only  blank 
leaves  on  which  to  mark  down  the  points, 
and  to  enter  the  score.  But  that  is  only  in 
the  smaller  capitals ;  here  in  our  sociable 
little  town,  civilization  has  not  advanced 
so  far.  Cards  are  not  yet  the  book  of  sal- 
vation from  all  the  evil  of  ennui ;  here  they 
rely  upon  their  own  resources,  the  best  way 
they  can.  And  why  should  they  not  talk 
of  persons,  and  occasionally  say  something 
pretty  severe  ?  What  do  other  people, 
yes,  even  the  men,  in  higher  spheres,  and 
at  the  tankard  ?  Do  they  converse  always 
about  abstractions  ? 

To  be  sure,  there  is  talk  here  of  town 
news,  and  whoever  takes  no  part  in  this, 
holding  himself  aloof,  does  nothing  for  the 
town,  nothing  for  his  neighbor.  And  these 
ladies,  who  here  have  something  to  say 
about  the  so-called  higher  dignitaries,  as 
well  as  the  so-called  inferior  people,  they 
are"  the  same  ladies  who  have  established 
benevolent  reunions,  and  behave  in  a 
strictly  proper  manner.  So  let  us  be  pleas- 
ant and  well-disposed  guests,  without  any 
tendency  to  find  fault,  at  this  coffee-drinking 
of  the  fair  sex. 

Here  comes  Frau  White.  She  is  called 
Frau  Coal  behind  her  back,  for  she  is  the 
wife  of  a  wood  and  coal-dealer.  She  has 
black  locks  and  a  dark  complexion,  which 
looks  as  if  she  had  never  washed  herself 
thoroughly  ;  and  since  the  good  woman  is 
aware  of  her  being  nicknamed  Mrs.  Coal, 
she  always  dresses  herself  in  dead-white 
colors,  which  are  not  very  becoming  to  her 
dark  hair  and  complexion  by  bright  day- 
light, but  by  lamp-light  she  is  very  charm- 
ing to  look  at.  Unfortunately  she  has  the 
defect  of  squinting,  and  with  so  sweet  an 


expression,  as  if  her  eyes  had  been  perma- 
nently arrested  in  the  midst  of  a  killingly 
affectionate  glance. 

Here  is  the  wife  of  the  cement-manufac- 
turer, a  tall  and  stately  woman,  never 
laughing,  always  inexpressibly  serious,  as 
if  she  carried  about  with  her  some  great  se- 
cret ;  she  has  no  secret  to  impart,  except 
that  she  has  nothing  to  say. 

Here  sits  the  handsome  wife  of  the 
school-director,  a  little  too  portly  perhaps, 
nicknamed  the  Lay-figure  because  she  is 
always  dressed  so  finely ;  she  has  a  perpet- 
ual smile  upon  her  face,  and  one  might 
almost  imagine  that  she  would  still  smile 
and  show  her  beautiful  teeth,  even  if  she 
were  to  be  the  bearer  or  hearer  of  the 
tidings  of  death. 

Here  is  the  wife  of  the  steamboat  agent, 
a  very  fine  looking  woman,  the  mother  of 
eleven  children.  The  whole  company  are 
quite  provoked  with  the  little,  plump,  good 
woman,  who  never  lets  her  cup  stand  on 
the  table,  but  holds  it  up  in  her  left  hand, 
and  repeatedly  dips  into  it  her  biscuit,  nod- 
ding assent  to  every  one's  remark,  and  sel- 
dom giving  her  own  opinion,  or, when  she 
does,  speaking  with  her  mouth  so  full,  that 
nobody  understands  her. 

Here  are  the  two  Englishwomen  who  re- 
side in  the  town ;  they  were  plain  citizens, 
much  beloved,  without  any  title  of  lady,  but 
were  truly  lady-like  in  appearance,  for  the 
reason  that  they  needed  no  rank  to  set 
them  off.  They  passed  their  time  at  home , 
did  not  depend  upon  visiting,  and  were  like 
their  own  island,  which  produces  all  that 
man  requires.  Whenever  the  two  ladies 
went  into  society  they  were  always  fresh, 
and  were  very  cordially  welcomed ;  and  the 
amiable,  awkward  way  in  which  they  spoke 
German,  and  made  use  of  strange  con- 
structions, served  to  increase  the  general 
kindliness.  Bella  was  especially  friendly 
toward  the  Englishwomen.  The  ladies' 
conversation  was  all  intermingled  together, 
like  the  singing  of  birds  in  the  woods. 
Each  one  sings  its  own  song,  then  polishes 
its  own  bill,  and  has  no  concern  about  the 
rest, — hardly  hears  them.  Only  two  remarks 
were  generally  listened  to  and  repeated; 
once,  when  Frau  White  made  the  happy 
observation  that  one  would  be  aware  of 
Count  Clodwig's  many  badges  of  distinction, 
even  if  he  did  not  wear  any,  which  the  Jus- 
tice's wife  took  occasion  to  report  to  Bella ; 
and  again,  when  they  came  upon  the  sub- 
ject, no  one  could  tell  how,  whether  the 
men's  smoking  was  agreeable  or  disagree- 
able, Frau  Lay-fig»re  said  that  her  good 
man  often  expressed  the  wish  that  he  could 
be  passionately  fond  of  smoking,  so  as  to 


122 


TBE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


wean  himself  from  being  so  fond  of  her. 
Frau  Bella  had  that  perpetual  complaisant 
smile  which  is  so  cold,  and  yet  so  tascinat- 
ing. 

The  conversation  only  grazed  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp lightly.  It  remained  fixed  upon 
Eric,  and  why  should  it  not  ?  Here  in  the 
summer  time,  thousands  frequent  the  little 
town,  and  swarm  on  the  road  leading  to  the 
old  castle  and  to  the  other  objects  of  in- 
terest for  sight-seers,  but  when  had  there 
been  a  person  who  remained  among  them, 
and  such  a  noteworthy  personage  too  ? 
Erie  was  a  strange  bird  who  wanted  to  take 
refuge  in  the  mysterious  house  of  Sonnen- 
kamp ;  they  will  do  him  no  harm,  ruffle  not 
one  of  his  feathers,  but  each  one  wishes  to 
have  her  say  concerning  where  he  comes 
from,  and  how  he  looks. 

The  Justice's  wife  remarked  that  she 
would  have  liked  to  invite  the  Major  to  the 
coffee-drinking,  for  he  could  tell  the  most 
about  the  captain-doctor. 

The  ladies  were  busy,  of  course,  with 
their  crochet,  embroidery  and  sewing ;  but 
these  are  only  make-believe  labors,  for  one 
must  not  seem  to  be  wholly  idle. 

When  they  understood  that  Eric's  mother 
was  a  lady  of  unimpeachable  nobility,  each 
one  wanted  to  make  out  that  she  had  per- 
ceived that  in  him  at  once,  it  was  something 
that  could  not  be  concealed.  Bella  accord- 
ed to  this  remark  one  of  her  most  friendly 
looks  of  general  approval. 

When  the  Justice  himself  now  came,  for 
a  little  quarter  of  an  hour,  to  join  the  com- 
pany, Bella  requested  him  to  take  a  chair 
by  her ;  she  declared  that  they  were  very 
happy  in  this  harmless  circle,  and  she  de- 
sired that  no  disturbing  element  should 
ever  enter,  to  have  only  a  decomposing  in- 
fluence upon  it. 

The  Justice  looked  at  her  with  his  good- 
natured  eyes,  wholly  at  a  loss  to  know  what 
she  meant,  and  stroked  his  obstinate  whis- 
kers ;  he  could  not  imagine  that  this  was  in- 
tended to  prepare  the  way  for  what  his  wife 
was  to  impart  to  him..  He  excused  himself 
and  soon  went  away  ;  his  wife  informed  them 
that  Lina  had  joined  the  Liederkranz  of 
the  town  ;  they  were  practising  now  for  the 
.great  musical  festival  which  was  to  be  held 
in  the  neighboring  city,  and  to  Lina  would 
undoubtedly  be  assigned  a  solo-piece. 

Frau  Bella  spoke  very  advisingly,  and  at 
the  same  time  very  discouragingly.  She 
expressed  her  dislike  of  musical  festivals, 
being  convinced  in  her  own  mind  that  she 
alone  understands  music,  and  that  the  mu- 
sic which  she  fancies  is  the  only  genuine 
music.  In  these  days,  hundreds  of  young 
people  of  both  sexes,  of  ordinary  standing 


in  society,  sing  in  the  musical  festivals  an 
oratorio  of  Handel,  Haydn,  Bach,  and  this 
vexed  Bella;  these  people  are  convinced 
that  they  know  something.  If  she  had  had 
power,  she  would  have  Uad  the  police  put  a 
stop  to  these  meetings.  For  this  reason, 
Fran  Bella  had  a  special  spite  against  the 
oratorio,  but  she^only  said, — "  1  have  no 
appreciation  of  it ; "  and  inasmuch  as  she 
said,  "  I  have  no  appreciation  of  it,"  this 
ought  to  be  ample  evidence  that  there  is 
nothing  in  it  to  be  appreciated. 

She  was  exceedingly  gracious  and  con- 
descending. She  said  that  she  did  not 
question  the  merits  of  the  German  masters 
in  oratorio.  The  truth  is,  that  it  was  ex- 
tremely repugnant  to  her  to  have  the  Jus- 
tice's wife,  the  wife  of  the  school-director, 
and  the  two  daughters  of  the  head-forester, 
and  even  perhaps  the  tailor's  and  cobbler's 
daughters,  presuming  to  be  interested  in 
high  art,  when  not  one  of  them  could  sound 
a  single  true  note. 

Lina  now  acquired  a  new  importance,  for 
there  was  a  general  expression  of  desire  to 
hear  her  sing.  The  English  ladies  asked 
very  pressingly  for  a  German  song,  but 
Lina,  who  usually  was  not  backward,  to-day 
was  not  willing  to  comply.  Her  mother's 
eyes  flashed,  but  Frau  Bella  placed  her 
hand  upon  the  arm  of  the  angry  mother,  and 
an  unheard  of  event  happened ;  saying 
that  she  did  not  blame  Lina  for  not  being 
willing  to  begin  to  sing  abruptly,  without 
any  preparation,  she  arose,  went  to  the 
grand  piano,  preluded,  and  then  played  a 
sonata  of  Mozart  in  mastei-ly  style.  All 
were  happy,  and  the  Justice's  house  highly 
exalted,  for  none  could  boast,  except  the 
Castle  Wolfsgarten  and  the  castles  of  the 
nobility,  that  Bella  had  ever  touched  a  key 
in  any  other  than  her  own  house. 

Bella  received  overwhelming  laudation, 
but  she  rejected  it,  and  in  a  half  serious, 
half  contemptuous  way,  maintained  that 
every  one  who  wore  long  dresses  wanted  to 
play  the  piano.  Bella  was  a  genuine  sister 
of  her  brother ;  she  could  be  happy  a  whole 
day  if  she  succeeded  in  uttering  one  pointed 
speech,  and  she  took  great  delight  now  in 
saying,  — 

"  Every  girl,  now-a-days,  thinks  she  must 
learn  to  knit  a  musical  stocking." 

She  continued  to  repeat  these  words, 
musical  stocking,  in  a  measure  of  three- 
fourths  time.  Every  one  laughed,  the  Eng- 
lish ladies  looked  up  in  surprise,  and  Bella 
was  glad  to  explain  to  them  what  she  meant 
by  these  words,  adding,  — 

"  Yes,  they  knit  a  stocking  out  of  notes, 
and  the  great  thing  with  them  is,  not  to 
drop  a  single  stitch.    I  truly  believe  that 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


123 


the  good  children  consider  the  four  move- 
ments of  the  sonata  to  be  the  four  parts  of 
the  stocking ;  the  top  is  the  first  movement, 
the  leg  is  the  adagio,  the  heel  is  the  scherzo, 
the  toe  is  the  finale.  Only  one  who  has  a 
real  talent  for  it  ought  to  be  allowed  to 
learn  music." 

This  was  generally  agreed  to,  and  they 
spoke  of  the  amount  of  time  spent  upon  the 
piano  in  youth,  and  that  after  marriage  it 
was  given  up. 

The  Justice's  wife  had  been  appealed  to, 
and  if  there  can  be  a  higher  heaven  in 
heaven  itself,  it  was  opened  when  Frau 
Bella  praised  Lina's  singing,  which  she  had 
heard,  and  requested  that  Lina  might  make 
her  a  visit  of  some  weeks,  when  she  could, 
perhaps,  give  her  some  instruction.  The 
glance  which  the  Justice's  wife  cast  to  her 
husband  was  inexpressibly  joyful ;  and  how 
delightful  it  is  to  have  the  ladies  ear-wit- 
nesses of  all  this  !  It  seemed  to  her  that 
she  was  very  good-natured  and  very  con- 
descending, to  be  still  friendly  and  affable 
with  the  doctors  wife,  and  also,  indeed, 
with  Frau  Coal  and  the  merchants'  wives. 

Bella  extolled  now,  in  the  warmest  terms, 
the  delicious,  spicy  cakes  which  the  Jus- 
tice's wife  knew  how  to  make  so  excellently 
well ;  she  would  like  to  know  the  ingre- 
dients. The  Justice's  wife  said  that  she 
had  a  particular  way  of  giving  them  their 
flavor  by  putting  into  them  a  certain  quan- 
tity of  bitter  almonds  ;  and  she  promised  to 
write  out  the  receipt  for  her,  but  she  re- 
solved in  her  own  mind  never  to  remember 
to  do  it. 

They  had  hardly  tasted  of  the  May-bowl, 
and  declared  that  no  one  else  knew  how  to 
mix  it  so  well,  before  the  Justice  was  in- 
formed that  Herr  von  Pranken  had  arrived, 
i  The  Justice  went  down,  his  wife  detained 
Bella,  and  Lina,  looking  out  of  the  window, 
saw  that  Pranken  decidedly  refused  to  come 
in  for  a  moment.  Bella  now  drove  away, 
after  taking  a  very  hasty  leave. 

When  she  had  gone,  it  seemed  to  all  a* 


I  if  the  court  had  withdrawn  ;  they  drew  near 
to  each  other  in  a  more  confidential  way, 
and  had  for  the  first  time  a  really  easy  and 
home-like  feeling. 

The  English  ladies  were  the  first  to  take 
their  departure  ;  the  rest  would  not  be  less 
genteel  than  they,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
parents  and  the  child  were  by  themselves. 

The  wife  took  her  husband  into  an  ad- 
joining room,  and  impressed  upon  him  very 
earnestly,  that  it  was  the  duty  of  a  Justice 
to  keep,  his  district  clean. 

The  Justice  was  faithful  in  his  office,  and 
whoever  spoke  of  him  would  always  affirm 
that  he  was  the  best  man  in  the  world. 
But  he  had  no  particular  zeal  for  his.,  call- 
ing ;  he  was  in  the  habit  of  saying,  —  Why 
am  I  mixed  up  with  the  affairs  of  other 
people?  If  I  were  a  man  of  property,  I 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  quarrels 
of  other  persons,  but  live  quietly  and  con- 
tentedly to  myself.  But  inasmuch  as  he 
had  been  inducted  into  the  office,  he  per- 
formed its  duties  with  fidelity.  He  was 
very  reluctant  to  come  to  the  determination 
to  interfere  in  the  matter  of  Eric,  and  he 
consented  only  when  his  wife  told  him  in 
so  many  words,  that  the  countess  Bella  had 
expressed  the  wish  that  he  should. 

They  had  come  to  the  best  understand- 
ing, when  suddenly  a  slam,  crash,  and 
shriek  were  heard.  Lina  had  let  fall  a 
whole  tray  full  of  cups. 

The  Justice's  wife  could  not  give  a  more 
satisfactory  evidence  of  her  serene  content, 
than  by  saying,  as  she  did,  to  Lina,  — 

"  Be  quiet,  dear  child.  The  mischief  is 
done;  it's  of  no  sort  of  account.  Cheer  up, 
you've  looked,  so  blooming,  and  now  you're 
so  pale.  I  could  almost  thank  God  for 
sending  us  this  trifling  mishap,  for  in  every 
joy  there  must  be  some  little  sorrow  inter- 
mingled." 

Lina  was  quiet,  for  she  could  not  tell 
what  she  was  thinking  of  when  the  coffee- 
tray  fell  out  of  her  hands. 


124 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  WORLD-SOUL. 

44  Why  did  you  not  look  in,  for  a  moment, 
upon  the  worthy  people?  "  asked  Bella  of 
her  brother,  after  they  had  both  taken  their 
seats  in  the  carriage. 

Whenever  she  came  from  a  company 
where  she  had  been  amiable,  this  mood  con- 
tinued awhile,  and  she  would  look  smilingly 
into  the  air,  then  smilingly  upon  the  furni- 
ture around  ;  it  was  so  now.  There  was  in 
her  the  dying  echo  of  a  pleasant  and  cheer- 
ful frame  of  mind,  but  her  brother  came  out 
of  an  entirely  remote  world,  having  spoken 
to-day  with  no  one, —  who  would  have 
thought  it  of  him  ?  —  but  his  own  soul, 
or  more  properly,  Manna's  soul. 

"  Ah!  don't  speak  to  me  of  the  world," 
he  said;  44  I  wish  to  forget  it,  and  that  it 
should  also  forget  me.  I  know  it  well,  all 
hollow,  waste,  wilted,  mere  puppet-show. 
If  you  have  been  helping  the  puppets  dance 
there  awhile,  you  can  lay  them  away  again 
in  the  closet  of  forgetfulness." 

"  You  seem  rather  low-spirited,"  said 
Bella,  placing  her  Land  upon  her  brother's 
shoulder. 

"  Low-spirited  !  that's  another  catch- 
word !  How  often  have  I  heard  it  used, 
and  used  it  myself!  What  is  meant  by  low- 
spirited  ?  nothing.  I  have  been  knocked 
in  pieces,  and  newly  put  together  again. 
Ah,  sister,  a  miracle  has  been  wrought  in 
me,  and  all  miracles  are  now  clear  to  me. 
Ah  !  I  may  come  back  to  the  words  of  the 
world,  but  I  do  not  see  how." 

"  Excellent !  I  congratulate  you  ;  you  seem 
to  have  really  fallen  in  love." 

44  Fallen  in  love  !  For  God's  sake,  don't 
say  that;  I  am  consecrated,  sanctified.  I 
am  yet  such  a  poor,  timorous,  wretched 
child  of  the  world,  that  I  am  ashamed  to 
make  my  confession  even  to  you,  my  only 
sister.  Ah !  I  could  never  have  believed 
that  I  should  feel  such  emotion  —  I  don't 
know  what  to  call  it  —  exaltation,  such  rap- 
ture thrilling  every  nerve.  O  sister,  what 
a  maiden !  " 

44  It  is  not  true,"  said  Bella,  leaning  her 
head  back  against  the  soft  lining  of  the  car- 
riage, 44  it  not  true  that  we  women  are  the 
enigma  of  the  world  ;  you  men  are  far  more 
so.  Over  you,  over  Otto  von  Pranken,  the 
ballet  connoisseur,  has  come  such  a  roman- 
tic feeling  as  this!  But  beautiful,  excellent, 
the  mightiest  power,  is  the  power  of  illu- 
sion." 

Pranken  was  silent ;  he  heard  Bella's  words 
as  if  they  were  uttered  in  a  past  state  of  ex- 
istence. When,  where,  did  they  speak  and 
think  of  the  ballet?     And  yet,  at  these 


words  there  came  datycing  before  his  mem- 
ory merry,  aerial,  short-dressed,  roguish, 
smiling  forms.  His  heart  thumped  like  a 
hammer  against  the  book,  the  book  placed 
there  in  his  breast-pocket.  He  was  about 
to  tell  his  sister  that  for  several  days  he  had 
no  longer  known  who  he  was  ;  that  he  was 
obliged  often  to  recall  to  mind  his  own  name, 
what  he  had  wished,  and  what  he  still  wished  ; 
that  he  went  like  one  intoxicated  through 
the  world,  which  was  only  a  flitting  by  of 
passing  shadows  ;  here  were  swiftly  darting 
railway-trains,  there  towns  and  castles  re- 
flected in  the  river:  all  were  fleeting  shad- 
ows which  would  soon  be  gone,  while  only 
the  soul  had  real  being,  the  soul  alone. 

Such  had  been  the  influence  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  so  had  he  read  the  words  on  which 
Manna's  dark-brown  eye  had  rested.  All 
this  passed  through  his  mind ;  he  could  not 
make  his  sister  comprehend  the  transforma- 
tion, he  could  hardly  comprehend  it  himself. 
He  came  to  the  conclusion  to  keep  it  all  to 
himself;  and  changing  his  tone,  with  great 
self-command,  he  said  smiling:  — 

44  Yes,  Bella,  love  has  a  sort  of  sanctify- 
ing power,  if  the  word  is  allowable." 

Bella  told  him  in  a  bantering  way,  that  he 
uttered  this  like  a  Protestant  candidate  for 
the  ministry,  who  is  making  a  declaration  of 
love  in  the  parsonage  arbor  to  the  minis- 
ter's blonde  little  daughter,  clad  in  rose- 
colored  calico.  She  looked  upon  it,  how- 
ever, as  an  excellent,  very  commendable 
guaranty  of  his  feelings,  that  lie  had  declined, 
in  his  present  state  of  mind,  to  enter  the 
Justice's  house ;  she  praised  his  intention  of 
breaking  off  now  his  flirtation  with  Lina. 

Otto  nodded,  with  a  feeling  of  shame ; 
and  he  began  now  to  speak  of  Manna,  in 
so  gentle  a  tone,  and  in  such  serious  earn- 
estness, that  Bella  was  more  and  more 
amazed.  She  let  him  go  on  without  inter- 
ruption, and,  clasping  together  the  fingers  of 
her  right  and  left  hand,  she  said  to  herself  in 
a  low  tone  :  — 

44  Nut-brown  eyes  seven  times,  gazelle 
three  times,  glorious  beyond  all  count." 

They  drove  through  a  little,  fragrant 
pine-wood,  and  it  seemed  to  Pranken  as  if 
this  perfumed  air  from  without,  and  that 
from  the  book  in  his  bosom,  enveloped  him, 
enwrapped  him  in  its  sweet  odors,  and 
elevated  him  above  everything.  He  said, 
looking  fixedly  before  him  :  — 

44  Since  our  great-uncle,  the  Archbishop 
Hubert,  no  one  of  our  family  has  entered 
the  service  of  the  church  ;  I  shall  —  " 

44  You?" 

44 1  shall," continued  Pranken,  44  dedicate 
my  second  son  to  the  church." 

It  appeared  exceedingly  comical,  and 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


125 


yet  Pranken  said  it  with  the  deepest  serious- 
ness, while  leaning  comfortably  against  the 
back  of  the  carriage,  and  puffing  thick  clouds 
of  smoke  in  quick  succession  from  the  cigar 
in  his  mouth. 

Bella,  who  always  had  some  direct  reply 
or  some  apposite  remark  to  make  in  contin- 
uation, now  said  nothing,  and  Otto,  who 
Tound  it  very  hard  to  change  the  tone  of 
conversation,  seemed  to  himself  to  be  under 
a  spell.  He,  the  merry  one,  he,  always  so 
free  and  easy,  was  reduced  to  the  level  of 
some  intrusive  swaggerer  in  a  convivial 
company,  who  had  pretended  to  be  a  boon- 
companion,  and  must  drink  and  drink, 
whether  he  relished  it  or  not. 

"  I  should  like  to  give  you  one  piece  of 
advice,11  said  Bella  at  last. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  it.11 

"  Otto,  I  believe  that  your  feeling  is  gen- 
uine, and  I  will  also  believe  that  it  will  last ; 
but,  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  let  anything  of 
it  be  perceived,  for  it  will  be  considered 
hypocrisy,  and  the  abject  submission  of  a 
suitor,  to  win  by  this  means  this  pious, 
wealthy  heiress.  Therefore,  for  the  sake  of 
your  own  honor,  for  the  sake  of  your  posi- 
tion, —  I  pass  by  every  other  consideration, 
—  keep  all  these  extravagances  under  safe 
lock  and  key.  Otto,  it  is  not  my  mouth 
that  speaks,  I  am  but  the  mouth-piece  of  the 
world  :  lock  up  all  these  heavenly  sensations. 
Forgive  me  if  I  have  not  used  the  right 
word ;  I  can  think  now  of  no  other.  In 
short,  be  the  same  as  you  were  before  you 
took  this  journey,  at  least  in  presence  of  the 
world.  Are  you  offended  with  me  ?  Your 
features  are  so  painfully  contracted.11 

"  O,  no,  you  are  shrewd  and  kind,  and  I 
will  do  as  you  say." 

As  if  a  new  stop  had  been  drawn  out, 
Pranken  immediately  asked  :  — 

"  What's  the  state  of  things  at  the  Villa? 
Is  the  All-wise,  the  great  World-soul,  still 
there  ? 11 

"You  mean,  perhaps,  your  friend?11 
Bella  could  not  refrain  from  bantering  her 
brother. 

"  My  friend  ?  He  never  was  my  friend, 
and  I  never  called  him  so.  I  have  allowed 
myself  to  be  bamboozled  only  through  pity. 
It  is  a  long-standing  trait  in  our  family,  that 
we  are  not  able  to  see  anyone  in  misfortune, 
and  I,  when  I  help  an  unfortunate  one,  come 
readily  into  a  more  intimate  relation  with 
him  than  is  natural  and  proper.  If  one 
wishes  to  rescue  a  man  from  drowning,  one 
must  grasp  him  in  his  arms  and  to  his  heart, 
but  this  does  not  make  him  our  bosom- 
friend.11 

Here  was  again  the  flippant,  galloping 
style  of  speaking,  but  there  was  a  depth  of 


thought  in  the  illustration  derived  from  the 
meditations  of  the  previous  days. 

Bella  handed  her  brother  a  note  which 
Fräulein  Perini  had  given  her  for  him. 
Pranken  broke  the  seal  and  read  it;  his 
countenance  became  cheerful.  He  put  the 
letter  in  his  breast-pocket,  but  as  it  did  not 
seem  to  suit  the  neighborhood  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  he  took  it  out  again,  and  put  it  in 
another  pocket.  Then  he  folded  his  arms 
over  his  breast,  and  looked  peacefully  and 
serenely  before  him. 

"  Might  I  be  permitted  to  read  Fräulein 
PerinPs  note  ? 11  said  Bella,  extending  her 
hand. 

Otto  took  it  out,  hastily  ran  through  it 
again,  and  handed  it  to  his  sister.  It  con- 
tained the  information  that  Eric  had  gone 
away,  and  that  he  had  held  a  secret  inter- 
view with  Frau  Ceres ;  the  details  must  be 
given  by  word  of  mouth. 

Otto  said  that  he  wanted,  some  time  or 
other,  an  answer  to  this  riddle. 

"  The  riddle  is  solved  for  me,11  said  Bella 
frxultingly.  "  Lina,  the  Justice^  daughter 
—  it  just  occurs  to  me  that  Egmon^s  Clara 
had  no  surname,  needed  none  —  well,  Lina, 
the  Justice's  daughter,  has  declared  to  all 
the  world,  that  the  Captain  World-soul  was 
with  her  at  the  convent  where  Manna  is,  and 
without  saying  a  word  about  it,  he  gets  him- 
self introduced  by  you,  the  next  day,  to  her 
father.  You  then,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us, 
have  been  taken  in  by  this  loftily  sublime 
World-soul.11 

Pranken  drew  a  long  breath,  doubled  up 
his  fist,  and  then  made  a  repelling  motion 
with  his  hand.  Bella  imparted  the  further 
information  that  she  had  seen  to  it,  at  the 
coffee-party,  that  the  World-soul — this  word 
seemed  to  her  just  the  one  to  designate 
Eric  —  should  be  obliged  to  seek  another 
abiding  place ;  the  Justice  would  give  the 
finishing  stroke  to  him.  Bella  perceived, 
to  her  amazement,  that  Otto  did  not  agree 
with  her  in  this  method  of  proceeding.  It 
was  entirely  unworthy  of  the  higher  life — he 
did  not  explain  whether  he  meant  the  higher 
social  or  spiritual  life  —  to  intrigue  in  this 
way  against  a  poor  deceitful  wretch ;  he 
would  much  rather  go  openly  to  work,  and 
directly  enlighten  Sonnenkamp. 

Bella  was  in  very  good  spirits,  and  took  it 
in  good  part.  She  began  with  saying,  that 
it  was  in  the  highest  degree  contemptible  to 
make  such  a  stir  about  the  appointment  of  a 
private  tutor,  a  personage  that  must  always 
play  a  subordinate  part,  however  fine  may 
be  his  appearance.  She  advised  her  broth- 
er, in  the  mean  while,  not  to  let  the  Justice 
be  beforehand  with  him  if  he  himself  wanted 
to  have  credit  in  the  matter. 


126 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Otto  declared  his  intent  to  visit  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  the  next  day,  and  then  to  cut 
off  Dournay's  secret  threads.  But  he  let 
the  next  day,  and  yet  another,  pass  by,  with- 
out going  to  the  villa.  If  other  tools  and 
other  hands  did  the  work  of  annihilation,  so 
much  the  better.  The  Justice  should  have 
time  to  carry  out  his  design.  Otto  read 
Thomas  a  Kempis,  to  see  if  there  was  not 
some  direction  given  for  such  a  case ;  he 
found  none. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
SKILFUL  STRATEGY. 

On  the  third  day  after  his  return,  Pran- 
ken set  out  for  the  villa.  He  stopped  at  the 
Justice's,  for  he  wanted  to  know  what  he 
had  done.  But  the  Justice  said,  modestly 
as  well  as  wisely,  that  he  did  not  think  it 
fitting  to  take  any  step  before  speaking 
with  Herr  von  Pranken,  who  had  recom- 
mended his  friend  to  the  house ;  he  was 
ready,  however,  to  drive  with  Herr  von 
Pranken  to  Villa  Eden. 

Pranken  bowed  his  thanks.  He  must 
then  himself  take  a  part  in  the  affair.  He 
did  not  decline  the  offer  of  the  Justice,  per- 
haps the  pedantic  little  man  might  serve  as 
a  reconnoitering  party,  to  find  out  where, 
and  in  what  condition,  the  enemy  was. 

In  his  new  frame  of  mind,  Pranken  was 
not  inclined  to  enter  into  any  intrigue,  and 
he  said  to  himself  that  this  was  nothing  of 
that  sort ;  but  strategy  was  always  permissi- 
ble, even  required.  One  must  lay  hold  of 
the  enemy  wherever  and  howsoever  he  can. 
Pranken  drew  himself  up  erect,  and  laid 
down  the  precise  method  of  proceeding :  he 
would  pretend  to  apologise  for  Eric,  in  or- 
der to  help  the  Justice  accomplish  his  ob- 
ject more  directly.  Ho. was,  again,  the 
spirited,  confident,  captain  of  the  horse- 
guards  leaping  the  barriers. 

The  Justice  requested  that  he  would  see 
the  ladies,  while  he  got  ready  for  the  drive. 
He  had  not  yet  shaved.  The  good  Justice 
lived  all  the  year  round  in  violation  of  the 
law ;  every  day  his  mustaches  were  liable  to 
fell  a  sacrifice  to  the  stringent  regulation  of 
the  Prince,  that  the  officers  of  the  civil  ser- 
vice should  not  wear  a  moustache.  He  gave 
as  an  excuse  for  wearing  it  his  suffering 
from  tooth-ache,  but  the  real  reason  was, 
that  he  wanted  to  hide  the  loss  of  his  teeth. 

Pranken  went  up  stairs.  The  Justice's 
wife  welcomed  him,  and  could  not  find 
words  strong  enough  to  describe  her  rap- 
turous admiration  of  Bella,  and  the  regret  of 
the  whole  company  that  Herr  von  Pranken 
had  not  come  in  for  a  moment. 

"  Might  one  be  allowed  to  ask  where  you 


have  been  ?  n  enquired  the  wife  of  the  Jus- 
tice. 

**  I  have  been  to  see  a  dear  friend  on  the 
lower  Rhine.11 

44  Might  one  ask  the  name  of  the  friend  ?  " 

"  Herr  von  Kempen.'1 

She  congratulated  Pranken  on  having 
such  intimate  friends  ;  if  they  could  be  al- 
ways worthy  of  his  friendship.  The  con- 
versation might  naturally,  at  this  point, 
have  brought  in  Eric,  but  Pranken  refrain- 
ed, and  asked  after  Fräulein  Lina.  The 
mother  said  that  her  child  was  learning  to 
cook,  which  every  good  housewife  ought  to 
be  able  to  do ;  only  it  was  to  be  regretted 
that  there  were  no  cooks  fit  to  give  any  in- 
struction. Pranken  expressed  himself  in 
praise  of  this  proceeding,  and  spoke  of  the 
demoralised  condition  of  service,  for  which 
they  had  to  thank  the  revolutionists,  who 
undermined  all  fidelity  and  all  belief. 

The  lady  considered  this  very  true,  and 
was  again  on  the  point  of  referring  to  Eric, 
when  luckily  the  Justice  entered.  He  had 
put  on  his  official  dress,  and  his  sword, 
making  an  almost  ridiculous  appearance, 
but  Pranken  was  highly  delighted  at  this  re- 
spect for  the  occasion.  They  drove  togeth- 
er to  the  villa.  When  Pranken  left  the 
Justice's  house,  he  twirled  his  mustaches, 
in  a  most  serene  state  of  self-satisfaction 
and  content.  He  is  still  honorable  in  the 
highest  degree,  shamefully  good  would 
many  of  his  comrades  call  it,  so  to  spare 
the  girl.  With  this  feeling  of  exemplary 
virtue  —  and  it  has  a  fine  relish  —  he  was 
extremely  amiable,  and  full  of  elasticity, 
feeling  convinced  that  he  was,  every  in- 
stant, a  benefactor  of  the  family,  and  that 
at  no  small  sacrifice  on  his  own  part. 

Lina  looked  at  them  from  the  servant's 
room  near  the  kitchen,  as  they  drove  off; 
she  stood  behind  the  flowers  in  fall  bloom 
upon  the  window-seat,  and,  as  she  inhaled 
the  fragrance  of  a  new-blown  monthly  rose, 
a  fragrance  not  less  sweet  breathed  through 
her  soul.  When  she  could  no  longer  see 
the  carriage  in  which  her  father  sat  with 
the  baron,  she  hastened  to  the  best  room, 
opened  the  piano,  and  sang,  with  clear  voice 
and  ardent  expression,  love-songs  to  the 
world  in  general.  Her  mother  came  in, 
with  her  hair  in  disorder,  and  considered  it 
wholly  incomprehensible  that  Lina  should 
be  singing,  while  two  pots  out  there  in  the 
kitchen  were  boiling  over. 

4 '  You'll  never  be  anything  but  an  igno- 
ramus ;  except  a  little  bit  of  language  you 
learned  there,  the  convent  has  only  made 
you  simpler  than  ever." 

Lina  went  into  the  kitchen  again,  and 
stood  before  the  hearth,  lost  in  reverie. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


She  would  like  to  have  heard  what  her 
father  and  Pranken  had  to  say  to  one 
another. 

Their  conversation  was  very  constrained. 
Pranken  praised  the  Justice  for  his  zeal  in 
keeping  his  district  pure  ;  the  Justice  com- 
plained that  he  had,  in  this  case,  no  overt 
acts  to  proceed  upon,  only  a  supposed  dan- 
gerous tendency.  He  understood  how  to 
draw  Pranken  out,  and  the  latter  narrated 
many  charges,  of  course  wholly  unjust,  an 
appearance  of  treason  among  others,  which 
had  been  brought  against  Eric.  He  prayed 
him,  however,  tb  spare  the  poor,  young 
man  to  whom  the  Prince  himself  had  been 
merciful,  and  he  thanked  the  Justice  for 
neutralizing  the  effects  of  the  impulse,  by 
which  he  himself  had  been  violently  carried 
away.  The  Justice  did  not  know  exactly 
what  course  he  ought  to  take,  and  he  was 
terrified  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
villa. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
A  SUBSTITUTE. 

Roland  had  gone  to  sleep  with  anger  in 
his  heart,  on  the  evening  of  the  parting,  and 
he  awoke  in  sorrow.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  Eric  could  have  left  him,  and  so  strong 
was  his  faith  in  the  bond  between  them,  that 
he  wished  to  go  to  Eric'3  room  to  ask  for- 
giveness for  having  dreamed  '  such  evil 
things  of  him.  But  it  was  all  true.  He 
went  to  the  room ;  it  was  empty,  with  only 
the  doctor's  diploma  lying  upon  the  table,  a 
sign  that  it  had  not  been  all  a  dream. 

Roland  was  not  to  remain  long  alone  ;  he 
was  summoned  to  his  father. 

His  father  introduced  him  to  a  man  of 
gentlemanly  bearing,  who  spoke  only  in 
French  and  somewhat  broken  German. 
This  agreeable-looking  young  man,  the 
Chevalier  de  Canne  by  name,  was  from 
French  Switzerland,  and  came  warmly  re- 
commended by  a  banker  in  the  capital,  who 
did  not  himself  know  the  fountain-head  of 
the  stream  which  had  brought  the  man  to 
him,  for  it  was  all  Fraulein  Perini's  work. 

Fräulein  Perini  was  never  seen  to  send 
her  letters  by  post,  for  they  went  through 
the  hands  of  the  priest,  but  her  relations 
with  the  French  clergy  were  such,  that,  by 
safe  mediation,  a  lay-püpil  who  could  be 
depended  on  was  called  to  the  position  in 
Sonnenkamp's  household.  Sonnenkarnp's 
prejudices  against  such  a  connection  were 
well  known,  and  it  was  carefully  concealed. 

By  his  modest  and  dignified  bearing  the 
Chevalier  knew  how  to  win  the  favor  of  the 
whole  household,  not  excepting  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp.    In  contrast  with  Eric,  he  had 


127 

about  him  something  impersonal,  so  to 
speak;  never  obtruding  any  peculiar  ex- 
pression of  his  own  special  views,  skilfully 
agreeing  with  everything,  and  succeeding, 
without  flattery,  in  giving  back  each  per- 
son's own  words  in  such  a  way  that  they 
seemed  to 'the  speaker  remarkably  signifi- 
cant and  excellent.  He  was  able  so  to 
illustrate  and  interpret  even  the  few  words 
which  Frau  Ceres  uttered,  that  one  would 
believe  he  had  long  known  the  lady ;  he 
was  besides  especially  welcome  to  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  from  having  a  thorough  knowl- 
edge of  botany.  With  Fräulein  Perini,  he 
said  grace  before  dinner,  with  so  modest 
and  elegant  an  air  that  it  only  added  to  the 
attractiveness  of  his  appearance.  Every- 
one was  charmed  except  Roland,  who, 
without  knowing  why,  was  constantly  com- 
paring the  Chevalier  with  Eric.  For  the 
first  time,  he  begged  his  father  to  send  him 
to  some  school,  no  matter  what  one,  and 
promised  to  be  perfectly  tractable ;  his  fa- 
ther would  not  yield  to  his  desire,  but  de- 
clared instead  that  Roland  was  very  fortun- 
ate to  have  such  a  tutor  found  for  him. 

Roland  could  not  complain  that  the  Chev- 
alier made  his  studies  a  burden  to  him,  but 
he  could  not  put  Eric  out  of  his  thoughts. 
He  had  already  thrice  written  to  him  di- 
rectly, letters  like  the  lament  of  a  maiden 
who  tells  her  lover  bow  she  is  urged  to  a 
loveless  marriage,  and  implores  him  to 
come  to  her.  He  begged  Eric,  who  knew 
nothing  of  his  angry  mood,  to  forgive  him 
for  having  fallen  away  from  his  allegiance 
for  a  moment ;  he  clung  to  the  hope  that  his 
father,  who  always  spoke  well  of  Eric, 
would  still  summon  him. 

So  wrote  Roland;  he  did  not  send  the 
letters,  but  carelessly  left  them  lying  open, 
and  the  Chevalier  took  copies,  which  Fräu- 
lein Perini  received. 

Eric  had  in  Joseph  a  firm  ally  in  the 
family.  He  asked  Roland  continually 
when  Eric  would  return,  told  him  much  of 
his  parents  and  his  grandfather,  and  also 
of  a  brother  who  was  just  Roland's  own 
age.  This  gave  new  intensity  to  the  long- 
ing after  Eric,  for  Roland  thought  he 
would  bring  his  brother  with  him,  and  then 
he  would  also  have  a  brother  and  comrade. 

Several  days  had  passed  thus;  Roland 
was  sitting  on  a  camp-stool,  near  the  road, 
where  there  was  a  fine  view  of  the  park, 
from  which  the  tower  of  the  castle  seemed 
to  spring  up  as  a  natural  growth.  Roland 
was  drawing,  and  the  Chevalier,  who  was 
a  master  in  the  art,  sat  near  him.  Roland 
soon  saw  that  he  had  heretofore  received 
too  much  assistance ;  he  was  now  really 
painstaking  and  earnest.    The  Chevalier 


128 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


drew  whatever  Roland  was  drawing,  and, 
from  time  to  time,  they  eompared  their 
work.  His  teacher  had  advised  him  to 
make  drawings  of  all  the  views  of  the  castle 
before  it  was  rebuilt,  and  Roland  had  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  so.  Sometimes  he  be- 
lieved that  he  had  done  it  himself,  then  it 
all  seemed  like  a  humbug  to  him,  for  the 
teacher  had  really  done  most  of  the  work. 

Roland  heard  carriage-wheels,  his  heart 
beat,  it  was  certainly  Eric  coming.  He 
hurried  to  the  road,  and  saw  Pranken  sit- 
ting by  the  Justice. 

The  Chevalier  had  followed  Roland,  who 
stood  staring  at  the  carriage.  Pranken 
held  out  his  hand  and  asked  Roland  to  in- 
troduce the  gentleman  ;  Roland  was  obliged 
to  mention  his  name,  and  the  Chevalier 
added,  in  a  tone  of  studied  respect,  the 
position  he  held.  Pranken  nodded  in  a 
very  friendly  manner,  and  left  the  carriage 
to  walk  with  Roland,  telling  him  that  he 
brought  him  greetings  from  his  sister,  and 
that  he  wanted  to  speak  with  him  alone,  by 
and  by,  as  he  had  an  important  message 
for  him.  Then  he  praised  the  noble  bear- 
ing of  the  stranger,  and  said  that  such  a 
man  was  far  better  than  a  conceited  Ger- 
man doctor. 

"Eric  has  a  right  to  be  conceited,  but 
he  is  not,"  answered  Roland. 

Pranken  twirled  his  moustache  ;  he  might 
be  easy,  and  let  Eric  have  due,  since  he 
was  out  of  the  way. 

Roland  felt  an  anxiety  for  which  he  could 
not  account ;  he  had  a  foreboding  that 
something  was  going  on  which  concerned 
Eric.  At  the  villa  Pranken  left  Roland  to 
the  Chevalier,  to  whom  he  nodded  gra- 
ciously ; .  he  asked  the  Justice  to  go  without 
him  to  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  and,  while  the 
Justice  stared  in  astonishment,  vanished, 
without  waiting  for  an  answer,  and  went  to 
find  Fraulein  Perini. 

There  was  a  most  cordial  greeting  be- 
tween the  two,  who  held  out  both  hands  to 
each  other.  When  Pranken  asked  about 
the  Chevalier,  Fräulein  Perini  pretended  to 
know  nothing  of  him ;  Pranken  spoke 
strongly  of  the  good  impression  he  had  re- 
ceived of  the  man,  and  affected  not  to  sus- 
pect that  she  had  brought  any  secret  influ- 
ence to  bear  in  the  matter. 

Then  came  an  account  of  the  visit  to 
Manna.  Not  fully,  but  in  some  measure, 
Pranken  made  known  what  a  change  had 
taken  place  in  himself. 

Fräulein  Perini  listened  attentively,  hold- 
ing her  pearl  cross  in  her  left  hand ;  then 
she  gave  the  particulars  of  Eric's  secret 
visit  to  Frau  Ceres,  which  she  had  referred 
to  ir  her  note :  she  showed  Pranken  a  let- 


ter, which  she  had  received  from  the  supe- 
rior in  answer  to  her  inquiries  about  the 
meeting  between  Eric  and  Manna.  A  copy 
of  a  letter  from  Roland  to  Manna,  in  which 
Eric  was  mentioned,  was  also  at  hand. 

But  now  all  the  chivalry  in  Pranken's  na- 
ture showed  itself,  increased  by  a  moral  and 
religious  impulse.  He  stretched  out  his 
hand,  as  if  he  would  shelter  Manna  from 
every  breath,  and  said  firmly  and  decidedly, 
that  not  a  syllable  more  should  seem  to  put 
her  in  a  doubtful  position.  The  whole 
thing  was  nothing  but  a  school-girl  fancy  of 
the  Justice's  silly  daughter,' Lina.  Manna's 
radiant  being  should  not  be  dimmed  by  the 
least  cloud  of  suspicion,  for  she  was  pure, 
and  great,  and  noble.  Pranken  felt  himself 
her  knight,  the  defender  of  innocence,  and 
he  was  noble  enough  to  extend  his  defence 
to  Eric,  who  was  blameless  in  this  respect : 
honorable  feeling  and  elevated  sentiment 
required  that  he  should  do  him  justice. 
Fraulein  Perini  watched  Pranken's  noble 
ardor  with  surprise,  as  he  continued : — 

"  From  this  moment  let  us  forget  Lina's 
childish  fancy ;  neither  you,  nor  I,  nor  my 
sister,  nor  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  who  fortu- 
nately knows  nothing  of  it,  you  say,  will 
ever  cherish  a  thought  of  it  again." 

Fräulein  Peuini,  instead  of  being  hurt, 
was  quite  happy  at  this  greatness  of  mind 
and  acuteness  in  Pranken  ;  she  was  modest 
enough  to  make  a  jest  at  the  petty  ideas  of 
women.  With  great  tact  she  declared  that 
this  was  now  the  true  knight's  service,  for 
the  ground  on  which  the  tournament  was 
held  in  our  days  was  higher  than  of  old. 

Fräulein  Perini  would,  on  no  considera- 
tion, come  into  collison  with  Pranken, 
knowing  what  power  she  would  thereby  put 
out  of  her  hands.  Pranken  left  her,  with 
calm  self-satisfaction,  to  go  to  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp :  he  was  almost  ready  to  defend  Eric 
since  he  was  already  set  aside.  With  great 
peace  of  mind  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  book 
in  his  breast  pocket ;  the  man  who  spoke 
in  it  would  be  content  with  him. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
BALAAM. 

Pranken  found  the  Justice  and  Sonnen- 
kamp engaged  in  general  conversation  ;  the 
greeting  between  him  and  the  master  of  the 
house  was  very  cordial,  and  he  seated  him- 
self astride  on  a  chair. 

**  I  will  tell  you,  honored  friend,"  began 
Pranken,  —  he  liked  to  call  Sonnenkamp 
"  honored  friend  "  before  people,  —  "  I  will 
tell  you,  by  and  by,  about  my  journey.  Now, 
let  me  congratulate  you  on  having  appar- 
ently found  the  right  man  for  our  Roland." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


129 


Herr  Somienkamp  answered  that  he 
should  hardly  keep  the  Chevalier ;  he  was 
only  in  the  house  on  trial.  Something 
seemed  to  tell  him  that  the  highly  cultivated 
Swiss  would  lead  Roland's  disposition  too 
much  towards  the  clergy  and  the  church. 
Eric  was  exactly  the  man  whom  he  should 
like  the  best. 

Pranken  looked  around,  as  if  to  make 
sure  whether  the  enemy  was  taking  up  a 
new  position,  and  said,  — 

"  We  must  undoubtedly  estimate  the  true 
market-value  of  this  man." 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  him  sharply,  as 
Pranken  rattled  out  the  words  "  market- 
value."  Did  the  baron  think  he  must  adapt 
his  language  to  him,  the  merchant?  He 
could  not  guess  that  Pranken  prided  him- 
self on  the  expression  which  he  had  care- 
fully arranged  beforehand ;  he  answered, — 

"  The  market- value  of  the  man  is  not 
small,  but  this  Captain  Doctor  is  an  eccen- 
tric man,  and  eccentric  men  are  very  agree- 
able, but  one  can  not  rely  upon  them." 

With  the  warmth  of  a  new  convert  Pran- 
ken dwelt  on  Eric's  scepticism,  and  the 
necessity  of  Roland's  being  trusted  to  the 
guidance  of  a  truly  religious  man,  who 
might,  at  the  same  time,  know  the  world  and 
its  ways.  ' 

Sonnenkamp  asked,  smiling,  — 

"Then  would  you  really  advise  making 
an  ecclesiastic  of  Roland  ?  " 

"If  it  were  his  mission  " 

Pranken  played  with  his  moustache,  as  he 
noticed  Sonnenkamp's  watchful  look,  bit 
his  lips,  and  quickly  corrected  himself. 

"  If  it  were  his  true  vocation,  who  would 
take  the  responsibility  of  holding  him  back? 
Perhaps  it  would  be  the  noblest  thing  for 
him  to  renounce  the  treasures  of  this  world, 
in  order  to  win  eternal  treasure." 

The  Justice  played,  in  an  embarrassed 
manner,  with  his  sword-belt ;  these  words 
of  unction  from  the  Captain  of  the  Guards 
seemed  to  him  incomprehensible,  and  yet 
they  could  not  be  spoken  in  jest.  He 
avoided  meeting  the  eye  of  either  of  his 
companions.  Sonnenkamp  looked  serious. 
It  only  appeared  inconceivable  to  him  that 
the  young  man  could  speak  so  incautiously, 
if,  not  satisfied  with  the  prospect  of  Manna's 
rich  dowry,  he  wished  to  appropriate  Ro- 
land's portion. 

In  the  consciousness  of  superiority,  and 
in  the  triumph  of  playing  with  men,  Son- 
nenkamp stated  that  Doctor  Richard  had 
spoken  to  him  of  Eric  so  enthusiastically, 
that  it  would  seem  that  one  covild  not  bring 
the  man  back  fast  enough  in  a  coach  and  six. 

"Ah,  the  doctor!  "  exclaimed  Pranken, 
swinging  his  right  hand  as  if  it  held  an  in- 


visible riding-whip.  "The  doctor!  Of 
course  !  Atheists  and  Communists  stand  by 
each  other.  Has  the  doctor  also  told  you 
that*  he  had  a  private  conversation  with  Herr 
Dournay  on  Sunday  ?  " 

"  No  ;  how  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  By  an  accident.  I  heard  —  through  — 
through  a  servant :  there  was  a  pretence  of 
going  to  give  medical  advice,  then  a  rub- 
bing of  hands,  and  the  remark  that  there 
was  no  need  of  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  know- 
ing that  they  were  united  by  old  ties." 

Sonnenkamp  thanked  him  warmly  for  this 
information,  but  inwardly  it  grated  upon 
him.  A  suspicion  that  one  of  his  servant's 
was  in  Pranken's  pay,  was  confirmed.  The 
Pole,  to  whom  Pranken  always  spoke  so 
pleasantly,  must  be  the  man,  and  he  should 
leave  the  house. 

Sonnenkamp  whistled  inaudibly,  only 
from  the  position  of  his  lips  could  it  be  seen 
that  he  was  whistling. 

The  Justice  considered  it  his  duty  to  per- 
mit no  attack  on  tbe  doctor,  inasmuch  as  he 
was  the  official  district-physician ;  their  po- 
sitions called  for  mutual  support.  After 
he  had  defended  the  doctor  from  any  harsh 
judgment,  while  Pranken  continually  stroked 
his  beard  and  mustache,  he  gave  the  con- 
versation a  turn  by  saying : — 

"  Herr  von  Pranken  had  the  best  inten- 
tions in  recommending  him,  but  might  I 
express  my  opinion  of  the  young  man  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp  replied  that  he  should  at- 
tach much  weight  to  the  opinion  of  the 
Justice.  This  was  the  moment  when  the 
strategic  movement  ought  to  be  made. 
Pranken  set  himself  more  firmly  on  his 
chair,  and  cheered  the  Justice  on  to  the 
charge,  crying,  — 

"Explain  yourself  clearly.  I  ought  to 
reproach  myself  for  not  having  considered 
that  any  connection  with  this  young  man 
would  be  looked  upon  as  a  disrespect  to 
the  supreme  authorities,  even  as  an  act  of 
hostility." 

"  Allow  me,"  answered  the  Justice,  with 
a  tone  and  manner  as  if  he  were  in  the 
court-room,  remanding  the  accused  into 
custody,  "  allow  me  to  keep  within  the 
limits  which  it  behooves  me  to  observe." 

Pranken  was  beside  himself  with  this 
Justice;  this  little,  insignificant,  almost 
impotent  mannikin  maintained  a  deport- 
ment which  was  quite  incomprehensible. 
Pranken  had  expected  that  he  would  work 
Sonnenkamp  into  a  state  of  great  excite- 
ment, and  would  give  him  an  indelible  im- 
pression of  the  hatred  of  the  court  towards 
Eric,  and  what  really  came  ?  An  exceed- 
ingly mild,  most  prudently-weighed,  amica- 
ble consideration. 


130 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


The  Justice  had  called  Eric  a  dangerous 
person  considered  only  as  a  man,  as  a  mem- 
ber of  society.  He  said  lie  did  not  know 
how  rightly  to  express  himself;  he  *  had 
meant  it  only  in  a  moral  sense  ;  but  he  im- 
mediately took  back  the  word  moral,  for 
Eric  was  known  to  be  a  highly  moral  man. 
And  when  he  now  came  to  the  question 
whether,  through  any  association  with  Eric, 
one  would  draw  upon  himself  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  court,  a  mild  and  benig- 
nant loyalty  beamed  from  the  countenance 
of  the  little  man. 

"The  princes  of  our  line,"  said  he, 
"are  not  vindictive,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
extremely  generous  and  forgiving ;  and 
our  present  reigning  master  !  Good  heav- 
ens !  he  has  his  peculiarities,  but  they  are 
quite  innocent,  and  with  them  he  has  inex- 
haustible kindness  of  heart,  and  do  you 
think  he  would  persecute  the  son  of  his 
teacher  and  the  comrade  of  his  brother's 
youth  ?  I  would  sooner  assert  that  he 
would  show  favor  to  any  one  who  should 
assist  Herr  Eric  — this  Herr  Eric,  who  has 
made  it  impossible  for  him  to  aid  him  in 
person.11 

Pranken  was  in  despair.  He  looked  at 
the  Justice  as  if  he  were  a  hunting-dog  that 
would  not  obey.  He  kept  opening  and 
shutting  his  hand,  which  seemed  to  feel  a 
desperate  longing  for  a  whip;  he  made 
signs  to  the  Justice,  but  in  vain,  and  at 
last  he  smiled  bitterly  to  himself.  He 
looked  at  the  Justice's  mouth,  thinking  that 
his  teeth  must  have  grown  again,  he  spoke 
fluently  and  decidedly  as  he  never  had  done 
before.  Ah,  these  bureaucrats !  thought 
Pranken,  pulling  up  his  top-boots.  Yes, 
these  bureaucrats  are  not  to  be  depended 
on  ! 

"I  am  very  glad,"  he  cried  at  last,  with 
a  forced  smile,  "I  am  delighted  that  our 
respected  Justice  dispels  all  apprehension. 
Certainly,  these  oflicial  gentlemen  under- 
stand their  business  excellently.11 

The  Justice  received  his  stab,  but  it  did 
not  penetrate  the  uniform.  Sonnenkamp 
seemed  to  have  played  with  the  two  men 
long  enough.  With  an  air  of  triumph,  he 
went  to  his  writing-table,  where  several 
sealed  letters  lay,  tore  the  cover  from  one 
which  he  selected,  and  gave  them  the  en- 
closed sheet,  saying, — 

"  Head  that,  Herr  von  Pranken,  and  you 
too,  Herr  Justice,  read  it  aloud."  ' 

And  the  Justice  read, — 

Villa  Eden,  May  — ,  186-. 
Respected   Herr    Captain  Doctor 
Dournay,  —  You  will  not  take  it  ill  of  an 
old  and  experienced  man,  honored  sir,  if 


he  takes  the  liberty  of  questioning  from 
his  one-sided,  practical  point  of  view, 
whether  you  are  not  committing  an  injus- 
tice in  employing  your  mind,  so  richly  en- 
dowed by  nature,  and  furnished  with 
knowledge,  upon  a  single  boy,  instead  of 
a  large  community.  Allow  me  to  say  to 
you  that  I  regard  mind  and  knowledge  as 
capital,  and  you  make  of  your  capital  an 
investment  at  far  too  low  a  rate  of  interest. 
1  honor  the  nobleness  of  mind  and  the 
modesty  so  manifest  in  your  offer,  but  feel- 
ing assured  that  you  entirely  mistake  your- 
self, when  you  think  that  you  can  be  sat- 
isfied in  so  limited  a  sphere.  I  must,  no 
less  decidedly  than  gratefully,  decline  your 
offer  to  undertake  the  education  of  my  son. 

I  desire  that  you  would  give  me  the  op- 
portunity, by  offering  you  a  situation  for  a 
year,  with  no  special  employment  attached 
to  it,  to  show  to  you  how  truly  I  am,  most 
respectfully, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
Henry  Sonnenkamp. 

While  the  Justice  was  reading,  Sonnen- 
kamp whistled  to  himself,  keeping  time 
with  one  foot  thrown  over  the  other,  mani- 
festly very  well  satisfied  with  the  letter. 

He  received  h  back  with  a  triumphant 
glance,  put  it  in  a  fresh  envelope,  and  ad- 
dressed it  to  Eric.  While  he  was  writing 
the  address,  he  said,  — 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  take  the 
man  into  my  house  on  a  different  footing ; 
he  should  do  nothing  but  sit  at  the  table 
and  converse.  Why  should  not  that  be  had 
for  money  ?  If  I  were  a  Prince, I  would 
appoint  conversation-councillors.  Are  not 
the  chamberlains  something  of  this  sort  ?  " 
he  asked  Herr  von  Pranken,  with  a  slight 
touch  of  sarcasm. 

Pranken  was  disturbed.  There  was  often 
in  this  man  a  height  of  presumption,  which 
did  not  spare  even  the  sacred  precincts  of 
the  court ;  but  Pranken  smiled  very  obse- 
quiously. Lootz  was  summoned  through 
the  speaking-tube,  the  letter  was  put  into 
the  post-bag,  and  Lootz  departed. 

Roland  was  waiting  for  Pranken,  who 
now  went  with  him  into  a  retired  place  of 
the  park,  and  there  gave  him  an  account 
of  his  journey,  and  delivered  to  him  a 
second  copy  of  Thomas  ä  Kempis.  He 
pointed  out  to  Roland  the  place  where  he 
was  to  begin  reading  that  day,  and  what 
he  was  to  read  every  day ;  but  always  se- 
cretly, whether  his  tutor  should  be  a  be- 
liever or  an  unbeliever. 

"Isn't  Eric  coming  back  any  more?" 
asked  Roland. 

"Your  father  had  written  to  him  a  de- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


131 


cided  refusal  before  I  came,  and  the  letter 
has  been  put  into  the  post  before  this." 

The  boy  sat  upon  the  bench  in  the  park, 
and  stared  fixedly,  the  book  open  in  his 
hand. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

DEJECTION   AND    COURAGE   IN   A  CHILD'S 
HEART . 

At  the  table,  Frau  Ceres  %  thought  that 
her  son  looked  very  pale ;  she  besought  the 
Chevalier  not  to  tax  him  so  severely,  and 
especially  not  to  let  him  draw  so  long  out 
of  doors.  • 

Tho  Chevalier  entirely  coincided  with 
this ;  it  was  his  plan  to  have  Roland  draw 
from  plaster-models,  and  after  that,  he 
would  take  him  out  into  the  free  air. 

* 4  Taken  out  into  free  air?"  said  Ro- 
land to  himself;  and  it  seemed  to  strike  him 
that  there  was  a  contradiction  in  the  idea  of 
being  taken  into  the  free  air. 

Sonnenkamp  was  unusually  cheerful  at 
dinner ;  his  contempt  for  men  had  to-day 
received  new  confirmation,  and  he  had  fresh 
conviction  of  his  ability  to  play  with  them. 
He  enjoyed  a  special  sense  of  freedom  in 
the  thought  that  this  Herr  Dournay,  who 
undertook  to  dictate  matters  for  him  and 
for  so  many  other  people,  was  now  done 
with.  Yet  he  must  acknowledge  to  him- 
self, that  he  could,  probably,  have  made  no 
better  choice  for  his  son. 

After  dinner,  Pranken  allowed  the  Jus- 
tice, who  was  in  a  hurry,  to  be  driven  to 
town  in  Sonnenkamp's  carriage  ;  he  himself 
remained  in  very  confidential  conversation 
with  Sonnenkamp,  who  admired  the  art 
with  which  a  young  man,  who  was  a  suitor 
for  a  wealthy  maiden,  worked  himself  into 
a  state  of  enthusiasm  thereat. 

After  Pranken  had  departed,  Sonnen- 
kamp went  to  the  conservatory,  where  Ro- 
land soon  came  to  him  and  said : — 

"  Father,  I  have  a  request." 

"I  shall  be  glad,  if  it  is  a  request  that  I 
can  grant." 

"Father,  I  promise  to  learn  everyday 
the  names  of  twenty  plants,  if  you  will  give 
me  Herr  Eric  again." 

"  Very  nice  of  Herr  Dournay  to  teach 
you  to  promise  me  that." 

The  boy  looked  at  his  father,  as  if  con- 
founded, his  lips  swelled,  and  gazing  timid- 
ly around  upon  the  plants,  as  if  he  called 
upon  them  to  bear  testimony  that  he  was 
speaking  the  truth,  he  cried  : — 

"  Eric  has  not  said  to  me  anything  of  the 
kind,  any  more  than  those  plants  have ;  he 
has  not  taught  me  to  say  that ;  but  if  he 


had,  I  would  learn  it  from  him,  and  from 
nobody  but  him." 

"Not  even  from  me  ?"  exclaimed  Son- 
nenkamp. 

The  boy  was  silent,  and  his  father  repeat- 
ed the  question :  — 

"  Not  eveVfrom  me  ?  n 

His  tone  was  vehement,  and  he  doubled 
up  his  great  fist. 

M  Not  even  from  me  ?  "  he  asked  the  third 
time. 

The  boy  drew  back,  and  cried  with  a 
thrilling  voice : — 
"Father!" 

Sonnenkamp's  fist  unclosed,  and  with 
forced  composure  he  said  : — 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  punish  you,  Roland  — 
come  here  —  nearer  —  nearer  yet." 

The  boy  went  to  him,  and  his  father  placed 
his  hand  upon  his  forehead,  which  was  hot, 
while  the  father's  hand  was  cold. 

"  I  love  you  more  than  you  can  under- 
stand," said  the  father.  He  bent  down  his 
head,  but  the  boy  stretched  out  both  hands, 
crying  with  a  voice  full  of  anguish  : — 

"Ah,  father!  I  beseech  you — father, 
I  beseech  you,  not  to  kiss  me  now." 

Sonnenkamp  turned  and  went  away.  He 
expected  that  the  boy  would  follow  him,  and 
clasp  him  round  the  neck,  but  he  did  not 
come. 

Sonnenkamp  stood  in  the  hot-house  near 
the  palms ;  he  felt  chilly ;  then  he  asked 
himself :  Why  does  not  the  child  love  you  ? 
Is  that  crack-brained  German  revolutionist, 
that  Doctor  Fritz,  in*  the  right,  who  used  the 
words  in  a  published  letter :  Thou  who  ex- 
tirpatest  filial  and  parental  love  in  thy  fel- 
low human  beings,  how  canst  thou  hope  for 
the  love  of  thine  own  children  ?  " 

He  could  not  comprehend  how  these 
words,  which  were  uttered  in  a  contest  long 
gone  by,  and  which  he  wished  to  forget, 
now  came  into  his  mind.  Suddenly  a  loud 
cry  made  the  strong  man  shudder. 

"  God  bless  you,  massa!  God  bless  you, 
massa  !  "  seemed  to  be  uttered  by  the  voice 
of  a  spirit. 

He  searched  about,  and  found^  his  wife's 
parrot,  which  had  been  brought  in  its  cage 
to  the  hot-house.  The  gardener,  when, 
summoned,  informed  him  that  Frau  Ceres 
had  ordered  the  parrot  to  be  brought  here,, 
as  the  dwelling-house  was  too  cold  for  it. 

God  bless  you,  massa  !  God  bless  you, 
massa !  "  cried  the  parrot  behind  Sonnen« 
kamp,  as  he  was  leaving  the  palm-house. 

Roland,  in  the  meanwhile,  stood  as  if 
rooted  at  the  spot  where  his  father  had  left 
him ;  the  park,  the  house,  everything  swam 
round  before  his  eyes.  Joseph  then  came. 
Roland  was  rejoiced  that  there  was  yet  one 


132 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


human  being  with  whom  he  could  lament 
over  Eric's  expulsion.  He  told  him  what 
had  happened,  and  made  complaint  about 
his  father.  / 

"  Don't  say  anything  to  me  that  I  can- 
not repeat  to  your  father,"  interposed  Jo- 
seph. He  was  a  prudent  and 'faithful  ser- 
vant, who  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
secrets,  or  with  tale-bearing.  His  father 
had  impressed  that  upon  him,  when  he  went 
away  from  his  home,  and  he  had  resolutely 
and  faithfully  kept  his  counsel. 

Roland  asked  Joseph  if  he  was  not  going 
to  return  soon  to  his  native  city ;  Joseph 
replied  in  the  negative,  but  went  on  to  tell, 
with  great  animation,  how  splendid  it  was 
the  first  time  he  had  leave  to  go  home.  He 
described  very  minutely  the  road,  and 
whom  he  met  at  this  place  and  at  that, 
and  how  his  mother  was  peeling  potatoes 
when  he  stepped  into  the  house,  and  how 
then  his  father  came  in,  and  all  the  neigh- 
bors, and  expected  to  see  him  wearing 
golden  clothes,  because  he  was  in  the  ser- 
vice of  so  rich  a  man.  Joseph  laughed  at 
this  simplicity,  but  Roland  did  not.  He 
went  back  to  the  house,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  the  whole  house  thrust  him  out. 
He  went  into  Manna's  chamber ;  he  thought 
it  would  seem  homelike  here,  but  the  pic- 
tures on  the  wall,  and  the  flowers  in  the 
chimney-place,  looked  at  him  so  strange 
and  so  inquiring.  He  wished  to  write  to 
Manna,  and  tell  her  of  all  his  troubles,  but 
he  could  not  write. 

He  left  the  house  and  went  into  the  court ; 
here  he  stood  for  a  while,  looking  round 
dreamily.  The  Chevalier  came  out  and 
asked  him  if  he  did  not  want  to  do  some- 
thing ;  Roland  stared  at  him,  as  if  he  did 
not  recognize  who  he  was,  and  made  no  re- 
ply. He  took  his  cross-bow,  but  he  did  not 
draw  the  string.    The  sparrows  and  doves . 


flew  about  hither  and  thither;  the  hand- 
some dogs  crowded  up  to  him  and  sniffed 
around  him,  but  Roland  was  like  one  be- 
wildered. 

He  went  to  the  river-bank,  followed  by 
his  great  dog,  Devil,  and  there  he  sat  down 
under  the  huge,  tall  willows,  putting  his  hat 
on  the  ground  near  him,  for  his  head  seemed 
on  fire.  He  bathed  his  brow  with  water, 
but  his  brow  was  no  cooler.  He  did  not 
know  how  long  he  had  been  sitting  there, 
gazing  fixedly  into  vacancy  without  any  con- 
scious thought,  when  he  heard  some  one 
call  him  by  name.  He  involuntarily  clapped 
his  hand  upon  the  muzzle  of  the  dog  lying 
near  him,  scarcely  breathing  himself,  in  or- 
der not  to  betray  his  place  of  concealment. 
The  voice  grew  fainter,  and  ceased  to  be 
heard.  He  still  sat  quiet,  and  cautioned 
the  dog  in  a  low  tone  to  be  still  also  ;  the 
dog  seemed  to  understand  him. 

Roland  took  out  of  his  side-pocket  the  let- 
ter he  had  written  to  Eric,  and  read  it ;  his 
eyes  overflowed  with  tears  of  longing  and 
grief,  and  getting  up,  he  hurled  the  letter 
into  the  river. 

The  night  came  on.  Noiselessly,  as  a 
hunter  who  is  stalking  a  deer,  Roland  left  his 
lurking-place,  and  wended  his  way  through 
the  narrow  path  of  the  vineyard  back  from 
the  river.  He  wanted  to  go  to  the  hunts- 
man, he  wanted  to  go  to  the  Major,  he  want- 
ed to  go  to  somebody  who  would  help  him. 
Suddenly  he  stopped. 

"No!  to  nobody  —  to  nobody!"  he 
breathed  low  to  himself,  as  if  he  hardly 
dared  trust  the  silent  night. 

"To  him!  to  him!" 

He  crouched  down,  so  that  nobody  should 
see  him  in  the  vineyard,  although  it  was 
dark.  He  did  not  stand  erect,  until  he 
came  to  the  highway  above. 


v 


•  THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


133 


CHAPTER  X. 
HELPING  ONE'S  SELF,  OR  BEING  HELPED. 

Eric  turned  homewards,  like  a  man,  who, 
coming  out  of  a  saloon  illuminated  with 
dazzling  brilliancy,  to  his  study  where  burns 
a  solitary  lamp,  involuntarily  rubs  his  eyes, 
which  having  become  accustomed  to  the 
greater  degree  of  brightness,  require  it,  and 
are  unable  without  it  to  see  so  clearly  and 
distinctly  as  before. 

The  peril  of  wealth  lies  in  the  fact  that  it 
may  ruin  not  only  the  possessor,  but  the 
non-possessor.  Language  has  not  com- 
pletely covered  the  whole  case,  when  it  calls 
this  dissatisfaction  and  unrest  of  soul,  envy, 
grudging,  churlishness  ;  it  is  not  this  at  all, 
it  is  rather  the  severe  torment  of  the  unan- 
swered question,  Why  art  thou  not  as  rich  ? 
No,  this  thou  dost  not  desire ;  but  why 
art  thou  not,  at  least,  placed  out  of  the 
reach  of  anxious  care  ?  The  struggles  of 
human  life  are  hard  enough,  why  must  thou 
have,  in  addition,  this  wrestling  with  sordid 
want  ? 

The  most  cruel  suffering  which  the  per- 
ception of  riches  inflicts  upon  the  non-pos- 
sessor is,  that  it  produces  in  him  an  unwil- 
lingness to  work,  a  supineness,  a  conscious- 
ness of  servitude,  and  yet  worse,  that  it 
makes  all  effort  appear  questionable.  What 
avails  all  thy  contriving,  thy  aspiration,  all 
thy  superstructure  of  great  thoughts,  so 
long  as  there  are  human  beings  near  thee, 
inhabiting  with  thee  the  same  earth,  and 
perishing  with  starvation ! 

The  ant  in  the  pathway  is  better  taken 
care  of,  for  there  are  no  ants  who  are  glutted, 
while  others  near  by  are  hungry.  What  is 
all  labor,  so  long  as  this  monster  still  stalks 
in  the  midst  of  us  !  Has  that  world-wisdom, 
has  that  religious  doctrine,  the  victorious 
power  of  truth,  if  it  cannot  annihilate  this 
monster  ? 

Eric  shut  his  eyes,  and  dreamed  in  broad 
daylight  that  disturbed  dream  of  our  age, 
which  attends  the  clatter  of  the  locomotive. 
The  locomotive  rushed  along  with  rapid 
piston-beat,  making  a  strange  accofnpani- 
ment  to  the  meditation  of  the  silent  passen- 
ger. He  had  his  eyes  closed,  and  yet  he 
now  perceived  that  they  were  passing 
through  a  tunnel.  And  as  such  a  plunge 
into  the  darkness  of  earth  suddenly  inter- 
rupts all  conversation,  so  does  it  break  off 
the  thread  of  silent  thought. 

When  they  emerged  into  the  light  again, 
the  current  of  Eric's  thoughts  became 
changed.  A  smile  came  over  his  counte- 
nance, which  looked  as  if  he  were  asleep,  as 
the  thought  occurred  to  him  that  a  rich  vein 


was  opened  for  a  treatise  upon  the  theoref 
ical  and  practical  treatment  of  poverty, 
philosophically,  religiously,  politically,  and 
morally,  in  ancient  times.  The  bitterness 
of  the  feeling  of  poverty  was  thereby  less- 
ened and  removed,  for  poverty  itself  came 
into  the  realm  of  science.  And  his  medita- 
tion proceeded  farther ;  for  to  the  historical 
view  of  poverty  there  was  added  a  consid- 
eration of  its  essential  nature.  Man  alone 
can  be  poor  and  rich.  The  whole  world  of 
human  society  is  a  linked  chain  of  inquiring 
glances,  as  if  each  would  say  to  the  other, 
"  Thou  hast  what  I  have  not." 

In  external  nature,  no  creature  looks  to 
another  differently  constituted,  no  created 
thing  troubles  itself  about  another ;  each 
bird  in  the  wood  has  its  own  range  for  pro- 
curing food  for  its  young,  and  no  other  one 
of  the  same  species  builds  its  nest  within 
that  circuit,  obliging  it  to  struggle  for  in- 
sects and  grubs  to  feed  its  brood.  The 
animals  of  a  like  species,  of  like  character- 
istics, of  like  means  of  defence  and  attack, 
alone  live  together  in  one  herd,  but  they 
have  no  union.  Man  alone  comes  into  a 
union  with  beings  of  a  like  species,  those 
who,  endowed  by  nature  with  the  same  fac- 
ulties, are  furnished  by  destiny  with  greater 
force  than  he  himself  possesses. 

The  clattering  continued  without  inter- 
ruption, the  locomotive  whistled,  and  the 
thought  took  hold  of  Eric's  soul,  that  the 
grandest  idea  which  humanity  has  ever  re- 
vealed out  of -the  mouth  of  an  individual 
has  been  this  :  ft  No  one  is  poor  and  no  one 
rich,  when  we  direct  the  thought  to  the 
Eternal.  The  Fatherhood  of  God  bridges 
over  the  abyss." 

The  wheels  upon  the  iron  rails  went  on 
beating  time,  and  gave  a  new  rhythm  to 
Eric's  thought,  who  now  opened  his  eyes, 
saying  to  himself,  — 

"So  it  is!  The  children  of  God  are 
borne  along  in  the  first,  second,  and  third 
class  railway  carriages  by  the  same  power, 
the  power  of  steam,  whether  they  sit  upon 
soft  or  hard  benches ;  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence." 

People  got  in,  people  got  out ;  Eric  took  no 
notice  of  them,  and  they  did  not  disturb 
his  meditation.  He  quietly  smiled  upon  all, 
and  saw  them  as  in  a  dream,  wholly  forget- 
ful of  himself,  as  one  looks  upon  the  move- 
ment hither  and  thither  in  an  ant-hill,  where 
each  may  carry  its  pine-needle,  its  little 
seed-grain. 

Eric  first  waked  up  when  his  ticket  was 
called  for,  as  they  approached  the  univer- 
sity-town, and  then  he  roused  himself  as  if 
he  had  just  come  out  of  a  deep,  dream-dis- 
turbed sleep;  he  composed  himself  ready 


134 


TUE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE.  * 


to  greet  his  mother.  He  got  out.  No  one 
was  awaiting  his  arrival. 

The  hills  around,  which  had  formerly 
seemed  to  Erie  so  bright  and  beautiful,  and 
where  he  had  strolled  alone  or  with  his  fa- 
ther, engaged  in  the  contemplation  of  vast, 
world-important  thoughts,  these  hills  now 
appeared  so  low  and  so  small,  and  the  river 
so  insignificant !  His  eye  had  taken  in 
wider  and  more  extensive  views,  and  a 
larger  standard  of  measurement  had  uncon- 
sciously been  made  his  own. 

He  saw  the  old  forms  at  the  station,  he 
saw  the  university-simpleton,  which  every 
smaller  university  has,  who  grinned  at  the 
doctor,  and  bade  him  welcome.  He  saw 
the  students  with  their  caps  of  various 
colors,  who  were  amusing  themselves  with 
making  passes  in  the  air  with  their  canes, 
and  playing  with  their  dogs.  All  this 
seemed  to  him  like  a  forgotten  dream.  And 
how  was  this  ?  Had  it  not  formerly  been 
his  highest  desire  to  live  and  to  teach  here  ? 

He  went  through  the  town, — nowhere  any- 
thing pleasing  to  the  eye  ;  all  was  narrow, 
angular,  contracted.  He  came  to  the  pater- 
nal mansion ;  the  narrow,  wooden  steps 
seemed  to  him  so  steep ;  he  entered  the  sit- 
ting-room. No  one  was  there.  Mother 
and  aunt  had  gone  out.  He  went  into  his 
father's  library:  the  books,  formerly  ar- 
ranged in  such  good  order,  and  which, 
hitherto,  no  one  had  ventured  to  disturb, 
were  lying,  for  the  most  part,  upon  the 
floor;  a  tall,  lean  man,  looking  over  the 
spectacles  on  the  tip  of  his  nose,  stood  star- 
ing at  him  with  surprise. 

Eric  introduced  himself ;  the  man  took 
the  spectacles  in  his  hand,  and  gave  as  his 
name  that  of  a  well-known  antiquary  in  the 
capital,  who  had  come  to  purchase  the 
library. 

So  his  mother's  hope  was  gone,  thought 
Eric.  He  remarked  to  the  antiquary  how 
valuable  his  father's"  annotations  were, 
which  were  to  be  found  on  almost,  every 
page  of  every  book. 

The  antiquary  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
replied  that  these  comments  were  valueless, 
and  that  they  even  detracted  from  the  value 
of  the  books.  If  his  father  had  written  a 
great  book,  which  gave  him  a  great  reputa- 
tion, these  notes  would  then  have  value  ;  but 
his  lather  had  all  his  life  been  intending  to 
write  a  great  work,  but  had  never  accom- 
plished it ;  and  so  all  the  notes  and  com- 
ments, even  if  valuable  in  themselves,  were 
for  the  antiquary  a  depreciation  in  the 
worth  of  the  books. 

The  tears  came  into  Eric's  eyes,  already 
excited  as  he  was  by  what  he  had  gone 
through. 


The  whole  labor  of  his  father's  life  was 
not  only  to  be  lost,  but  to  be  worse  than 
lost.  Here  was  no  leaf  on  which  the  eye 
of  the  sleeping  one  had  not  rested,  here 
were  his  private  thoughts,  his  feelings  and 
his  rich  wisdom,  and  this  was  to  be  flung 
away  into  the  world,  despised,  and  perhaps 
appropriated  by  some  stranger  for  his  own 
profit. 

Eric  blamed  himself  for  not  accepting  de- 
cidedly and  immediately  the  position  with 
Sonnenkamp;  he  .  might  have  effected  it, 
and  then  have  received  a  considerable  sura 
of  money.  He  blamed  himself  for  letting 
the  old  cavalier  pride  get  the  better  of  him! 

Eric  looked  sorrowfully  upon  a  whole 
pile  of  manuscript  sheets,  books,  and  in- 
serted printed  scraps,  which  his  father  had 
been  collecting  and  preparing  his  whole 
lifetime. 

Eric's  father  had  intended  to  write  a 
book  with  the  title,  44  The  Real  Man  in 
History ;  "  but  he  had  died  before  accom- 
plishing his  purpose.  Many  valuable  notes, 
even  single  portions,  had  been  written  out, 
but  no  use  could  be  made  of  them,  for  each 
separate  remark  was  considered  in  three 
different  ways,  and  the  leading  idea  had 
been  contained  in  the  head  of  the  professor 
alone.  All  the  sciences  and  the  most  re- 
mote facts  of  history  had  been  drawn  to- 
gether, but  the  leading  and  connecting 
thought  of  the  whole  had  vanished  with  the 
man  himself,  now  resting  in  the  ground; 
no  entire  form  could  be  constructed  out  of 
these  fragments.  Only  one  thing  was  of- 
ten pointed  out,  that  the  title  should  be, 
"The  Real  Man."  ■ 

The  first  and  larger  part  was  to  have 
collected  those  traits,  scattered  in  the 
course  of  ages,  out  of  which  the  image  of 
God  could  be  constructed  as  it  was  mani- 
fest in.  all  the  actual  unfoldings  of  human- 
ity ;  the  second  part  was  then  to  give  an 
exact  account  of  the  manifestations  of  the 
soul's  life  in  the  past,  to  be  as  definitely 
determined  as  past  events  in  external  na- 
ture ;  and  from  there  onwards  was  the 
point  to  be  designated  where  genius,  that 
miracle  in  the  intellectual  sphere,  lays  the 
foundation  for  new  developments.  This 
was  what  Eric  thought,  at  any  rate,  when 
he  tried  to  arrange  the  papers  left  by  his 
father;  then  the  leading  and  fundamental 
thought  vanished,  and  all  this  matter  col- 
lected with  such  laborious  industry  seemed 
utterly  useless.  As  a  treasure-digger,  who 
must  raise  the  treasure  without  speaking, 
so  his  father  seemed  to  have  closed  his  lips 
upon  what  he  had  already  done,  and  upon 
what  he  intended  to  do. 

Eric  went  back  to  the  sitting-room,  and 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


135 


the  deep  emotion  of  his  heart,  the  whole 
uncertainty  of  his  position,  the  growing 
strangeness  of  his  home  —  all  these  were 
gathered  into  the  thought  of  the  lost  labor, 
the  useless  toil  of  his  father. 

He  looked  around  the  room ;  it  seemed 
to  him  inconveniently  crowded  with  old 
furniture.  He,  who  generally  examined 
himself  so  closely  and  judged  himself  so 
severely,  did  not  suspect  that  the  sight  of 
luxurious  wealth  and  the  late  recognition 
of  his  own  poverty  had  thrown  a  dark  veil 
over  all  surrounding  objects. 

He  collected  himself,  for  he  heard  his 
mother  and  aunt  returning. 

His  mother  was  heartily  glad  to  see  her 
son,  but  Eric  was  deeply  troubled  when 
she  told  him  that  she  should  have  thought 
it  quite  right  if  he  had  accepted  the  situa- 
tion with  Sonnenkamp  without  reference  to 
her,  because,  in  their  present  position,  it 
seemed  double  good  fortune. 

Eric  saw  that  his  mother,  whom  nothing 
had  ever  been  able  to  bend,  was  now  not 
only  bent,  but  broken,  and  while  he  looked 
into  her  sorrowful  face,  he  bitterly  felt  that 
his  scruples  and  his  sacrifice  appeared  su- 
perfluous. 

His  mother,  repressing  her  own  feelings, 
had  written  to  the  widowed  princess,  whose 
maid  of  honor  she  had  been,  giving  an  ac- 
count of  her  situation.  She  had  poured 
out  her  whole  heart  to  the  noble  lady,  and 
spoken  of  the  great  good  fortune  of  the 
princess  in  being  able  to  render  essential 
help  to  her,  who  had  never  asked  any 
favor ;  she  requested  a  limited  sum  of 
money  in  order  not  to  be  obliged  to  sell 
the^library  of  her  husband,  which  was  a 
sacred  family  possession,  and  had  great 
value  for  her  son.  Tears  came  into  her 
own  eyes,  as  she  read  over  the  letter  she 
had  written.  And  now  the  mother  handed 
to  her  son  the  reply  of  the  dowager  prin- 
cess. She  had  answered  through  her  sec- 
retary in  well-expressed,  sympathetic,  and 
gracious  terms.  A  small  sum  of  money 
was  enclosed,  not  half  enough  for  the  ob- 
ject in  view. 

The  mother  had  had  the  desire  to  return 
this  small  sum,  with  the  shrewd  reply  that, 
perhaps,  the  subordinate  employed  had  not 
enclosed  the  full  amount  determined  on  by 
the  princess  ;  but  she  did  not  do  it ;  one 
must  not  offend  these  high  personages  ;  one 
must  even  return  humble  thanks,  in  order 
not  to  forfeit  their  unsubstantial  good-will. 

Eric  promised  to  have  the  library  secured 
within  a  week. 

He  went  immediately  to  his  chamber, 
and  wrote  a  letter  to  Count  Wolfsgarten. 
He  stated  in  plain  words  his  state  of  mind 


at  reaching  his  paternal  home,  in  what  con- 
dition he  had  found  it  and  his  mother,  and 
finally  he  quoted  to  Clodwig  his  declara- 
tion, — 

**I  feel  so  much  a  friend  to  you,  that  I 
can  allow  myself  to  be  placed  under  obliga- 
tion by  you." 

Eric  had  written  that  he  should  feel  no 
change  towards  Wolfsgarten,  even  if  he  re- 
fused his  request.  But  feeling  that  this 
was  not  true,  he  tore  up  the  letter  and 
wrote  another,  leaving  out  this  assurance. 
It  was  no  trifling  matter  for  Eric,  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  to  present  himself  as  a  pe- 
titioner, yes,  — he  tormented  himself  with 
the  word,  — as  a  beggar. 

Eric  now  spoke  directly  of  his  journey. 
His  mother  heard  him  through  quietly,  ex- 
cept that  when  Bella  was  mentioned,  she 
said,  —  "Bella  Pranken  is  a  woman  who 
cannot  be  counted  on." 

The  old  plans  were  discussed  anew. 
Eric  wanted  to  establish  an  educational  in- 
stitution, and  his  mother  and  aunt  were 
strongly  inclined  to  this,  as  they  had  many 
connections  with  the  best  families  of  the 
country  ;  but  they  were  not  agreed  whether 
they  should  have  an  institution  for  girls  or 
for  boys.  Eric  was  in  favor  of  the  latter, 
as  he  could  have  more  direct  relations  with 
.that;  but  his  mother  wanted  him  to  make 
a  scientific  journey  for  several  years,  so  as 
to  acquire  a  reputation  at  once  by  means 
of  some  great  work,  and  not  creep  on  in 
the  plodding  path.  She  and  the  aunt 
would,  in  the  meanwhile,  earn  so  much  at 
the  capital  that  Eric  could  live  free  from 
care. 

They  came  to  the  conclusion  to  make  no 
positive  decision  until  Herr  Sonnenkamp's 
letter  should  be  received.  The  mother 
said  that  it  would  be  the  fulfilment  of  one 
of  her  ideals  of  life  to  take  possession  of 
the  vinercovered  little  house ;  and  she  en- 
tertained a  sanguine  hope  of  attaining  some 
influence  over  the  lad  surrounded  by  the 
dangers  of  riches ;  she  should  be  glad  to 
do  so,  as  he  was  just  the  age  of  the  son  she 
had  lost. 

Eric  visited  his  old  teacher  and  friend, 
Professor  Einsiedel,  who  was  his  chief  in- 
structor. He  was  a  high-priest  of  science, 
a  man  who,  engaged  continually  and  ex- 
clusively in  the  region  of  pure  thought, 
and  in  investigations  for  the  extension  of 
the  sphere  of  knowledge,  lived  entirely 
alone,  regular,  methodical,  systematic,  free 
from  all  excitement,  eating  and  drinking 
an  incredibly  small  quantity,  but  always 
attracted  by  new  developments  of  truth, 
always  open-eyed  to  look  into  the  wide- 
spreading  realm  of  thought. 


136 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Professor  Einsiedel  had  been  a  friend  of 
Eric's  father,  and  he  always  lamented  that 
he,  who  was  continually  striving  after  the 
best  and  the  perfect,  had  not  accomplished 
the  good,  which  is  necessarily  incomplete. 
His  axiom  was,  that  we  must  be  contented 
with  having  made  some  small,  individual 
contribution,  and  that  this  extends  to  be- 
come a  part  of  the  great  whole.  We  never 
accomplish  anything  that  gives  us  perfect 
satisfaction,  and  to  which  we  have  nothing 
more  to  add.  Only  of  the  Creator  can  it 
be  said,  that  on  ending  his  work,  He  saw 
that  it  was  good.  The  absolute  mind  can 
alone  effect  that  the  created  existence 
shall  correspond  to  the  creative  thought, 
the  actual  to  the  ideal ;  the  finite  mind 
must  always  have  over  it  the  idea  of  what 
it  can  do,  and  what  it  ought  to  do. 

Whenever  Eric  came  to  the  professor 
with  any  scientific  inquiry,  he  received  at 
once  direction  as  to  the  best  and  most  di- 
rect sources  of  information  ;  he  would  even, 
with  the  greatest  disinterestedness,  place  at 
the  disposal  of  every  one  his  own  carefully 
prepared  notes.  It  was  the  same  to  him 
whether  it  were  published  under  his  own 
name  or  under  that  of  another  person,  pro- 
vided it  went  forth  to  the  world. 

In  the  professor's  study  was  a  picture  by 
Rembrandt,  a  small  copper-plate  engrav- 
ing, which  was  almost  a  portrait  of  the  pro- 
fessor himself.  It  represented  Faust  in  his 
night-cap,  gazing  at  the  magic  circle  il- 
luminated by  its  own  light.  Faust  is  an 
old,  wizzled-up  little  man,  sorely  in  need 
of  the  rejuvenating  draught.  Professor 
Einsiedel  had  no  such  magic  potion,  but 
he  drank  new  life,  every  day,  from  the 
ancient  classics. 

When  Eric  now  called  upon  him,  to  get 
help  and  advice,  he  found  the  good  old 
professor — living  entirely  alone,  and  trou- 
bled not  so  much  by  being  alone*,  as  by 
the  necessity  of  taking  care  of  life  —  in 
rather  an  odd  plight.  He  regretted  that 
Eric  did  not  devote  himself  exclusively  to 
science,  but  admitted  also  that  Eric's  nat- 
ural tendency  was  to  some  practical  and 
personal  activity.  And  with  a  smile,  pecu- 
liarly his  own,  he  said,  — 

"  You  are  a  well-formed  man,  and  you 
ought  to  make  money  out  of  that,  for  it  is 
worth  something.  Yes,  yes,  that  will  be  a 
help." 

Eric,  in  his  restlessness  and  in  his  ardent 
desire  not  to  be  waiting,  but  to  do  some- 
thing for  himself,  went  the  next  day  to  the 
capital,  for  he  had  heard  from  the  anti- 
quarian, that  an  elderly  man  who  con- 
ducted a  very  respectable  institute  was 


about  to  retire,  and  wanted  to  transfer  it  to 
good  hands. 

He  came  to  the  capital  where  he  had 
lived  as  an  officer  many  years,  respected 
and  without  care.  Several  comrades  in 
in  their  uniform  seemed  not  to  know  him ; 
others  bethought  themselves  after  he  had 
passed,  and  called  out,  "Ah,  is  it  you? 
j  Good-morning  ! "  and  went  on.  He  went 
j  through  the  capital,  where  he  was  born, 
and  where  he  felt  at  home,  making  inqui- 
ries like  a  stranger;  he  hoped  it  would 
again  seem  familiar  and  homelike  to  him, 
when  he  should  go  out  into  the  streets  from 
an  established  place  of  abode  and  a  daily 
employment. 

He  was  well  received  by  the  school-pro- 
prietor, and  the  conditions  were  acceptable. 
The  respect  in  which  his  parents  were  held 
was  of  great  advantage  to  him  here ;  but 
the  necessity  of  adopting  the  old  regulations 
and  methods  made  him  hesitate.  Without 
coming  to  any  definite  arrangement,  he  left 
the  school-building. 

He  met  now  in  one  of  the  streets  an  old 
friend  of  his  father,  the  present  minister  of 
education,  who,  stopping  him,  and  inquir- 
ing about  his  mother  and  his  own  welfare, 
offered  him  the  situation  of  custodian  in 
the  cabinet  of  antiquities,  with  the  assur- 
ance that  he  should  soon  be  promoted  to  the 
directorship.  Eric  promised  to  take  the 
matter  into  consideration. 

Just  as  he  left  the  minister,  an  oldish 
man,  who  had  been  waiting  for  him  under  a 
house-porch,  came  up  to  him  and  greeted 
him  in  a  very  friendly  manner.  Eric  could 
not  call  to  mind  who  he  was,  and  the  man 
said  that  Eric  had  once  done  him  a  good 
turn  in  the  house  of  correction,  and  thanked 
him  for  it ;  he  was  now  in  a  very  good  situ- 
ation as  servant  of  the  chancellor,  and  with 
a  half-sly,  half-pious  expression  of  counte- 
nance, he  offered  to  render  Eric  any  service 
that  was  in  his  power. 

Eric  thanked  him  ;  he  did  not  notice  that 
many  persons,  who  went  by  and  recognised 
him,  regarded  this  companionship  as  very 
odd. 

Now  the  comrade  who  had  taken  Eric's 
place,  and  had  become  an  actual  captain, 
came  from  parade ;  he  took  Eric  with  him 
to  the  military  club-house,  and  Eric  was 
cheerful  and  lost  all  thought  of  the  troubles 
of  life.  In  the  club-house  there  was  much 
talk  about  Otto  von  Pranken  and  his  mar- 
riage with  a  Creole  worth  many  millions. 
Eric  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  say 
that  Manna  was  no  Creole,  and  that  he  had 
some  knowledge  of  how  the  matter  really 
stood. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


137 


CHAPTER  XI. 
WHERE  ART  THOU,  ROLAND? 

"  Where  is  Roland  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp  asks  Joseph,  Joseph  asks 
Bertram,  Bertram  asks  Lootz,  Lootz  asks 
the  head-gardener,  the  head-gardener  asks 
the  Little-squirrel,  the  Little-squirrel  asks  the 
laborers,  the  laborers  ask  the  children,  the 
children  ask  the  air,  Fräulein  Perini  asks  the 
Chevalier,  the  Chevalier  asks  the  dogs,  and 
Frau  Ceres  must  find  out  nothing  from  any 
of  them. 

Sonnenkamp  rides  at  full  speed  to  the 
Major,  the  Major  asks  Fräulein  Milch,  but 
she,  who  knows  everything,  this  time  knows 
nothing.  The  Major  rides  to  the  castle ; 
Roland's  name  is  called  out  in  all  the  exca- 
vations and  dungeons,  but  there  is  no  an- 
swer. 

Sonnenkamp  sends  .the  groom  to  the 
huntsman,  but  he  is  off  to  the  field,  and  not 
to  be  found. 

Sonnenkamp  rides  to  the  railroad  station, 
taking  with  him  Puck,  Roland's  pony,  and 
often  looking  at  the  empty  saddle.  He 
asks  at  the  station,  in  an  indifferent  tone,  if 
Roland  had  not  arrived,  as  if  he  were  ex- 
pecting his  return  from  a  journey.  No  one 
had  seen  him.  Sonnenkamp  rides  back  to 
the  villa,  and  asks  hurriedly  if  he  has  not 
come,  and  when  they  say  no,  he  rides  to 
the  next  station  up  the  river.  He  asks  here 
also,  but  less  cautiously,  and  here  nothing 
is  known.  The  servants  rush  hither  and 
thither  as  if  bewildered. 

Sonnenkamp  returns  to  the  villa ;  the 
Major  is  there  ;  Fräulein  Milch  has  sent  him, 
as  perhaps  he  can  render  some  assistance. 
She  thinks  that  Roland  has  certainly  gone 
to  the  convent.  The  Major  and  Sonnen- 
kamp drive  to  the  telegraph-office,  and  send 
a  message  to  the  convent ;  they  are  ex- 
tremely impatient,  for  there  is  no  direct 
telegraphic  communication,  and  so  it  will  be 
two  hours  before  an  answer  can  be  returned. 
Sonnenkamp  desires  to  wait  here,  and  sends 
the  Major  to  the  town,  where  he  was  to  see 
the  doctor,  and  make  inquiries  everywhere, 
but  not  so  as  to  excite  any  observation. 

Sonnenkamp  goes  up  and  down  at  the 
station,  and  places  his  hot  brow  against  the 
cool  stone  pillars ;  all  is  quiet  and  empty. 
He  went  into  the  passengers1  room ;  he 
found  that  the  seats  at  the  station  were  not 
made  for  comfortable  rest ;  it  was  horribly 
inhuman.  In  America  it  is  different,  or  it 
isn't  —  no  matter. 

He  went  out ;  he  saw  the  men  loading  a 
freight-car,  —  they  did  it  so  leisurely;  he 
looked  at  a  stone-cutter  who  was  using  a 
pick  and  a  hammer :  he  looked  fixedly  at  him 


as  if  he  himself  wanted  to  learn  the  trade. 
People  everywhere  were  working  so  quietly ; 
they  might  well  do  so,  they  had  not  lost  a 
son.  He  observed  the  telegraph-wires,  he 
had  an  impulse  to  cry  tln-oughout  the  whole 
world,  even  where  it  would  be  of  no  possible 
avail, — 

"  Where  is  my  son  ?  " 

Night  comes  on.  The  railway-train  rolls 
in,  and  Sonnenkamp  steps  back  in  terror ;  it 
seems  to  him  that  the  locomotive  would 
rush  directly  upon  him.  He  composes  him- 
self, he  looks  about,  he  strains  his  eyes,  he 
sees  nothing  of  Roland.  The  people  dis- 
perse, and  all  is  again  still. 

Sonnenkamp  went  to  the  telegraphist, 
and  asked  again  if  the  telegram  which  had 
been  sent  had  reached  its  destination.  The 
reply  was,  "  Yes."  The  clicking  of  the 
telegraph-lever  thrilled  him  ;  he  felt  the  same 
blows  in  his  throbbing  temples.  He  re- 
quested the  operator  to  remain  there  during 
the  night,  as  one  could  not  tell  but  that  a 
message  might  be  sent  to  him,  or  he  might 
want  to  send  one. 

But  the  operator  refused,  although  a  large 
sum  of  money  was  offered  him  ;  he  was  not 
allowed  to  change  the  arrangements  without 
orders  from  his  superiors.  He  ordered  his 
assistant  to  stay  there  as  long  as  he  himself 
remained ;  he  closed  the  door  with  a  bang, 
and  went  off.  He  was  evidently  afraid  of 
Sonnenkamp. 

Sonnenkamp  was  again  alone.  Then  he 
heard  the  stroke  of  oars  on  the  river. 

"Is  it  you,  Herr  Major?"  he  cried  out 
into  the  starlight  night. 

"Yes." 

"  Have  you  found  him  ?  " 
"No." 

The  Major  got  out  of  the  boat ;  there 
was  no  trace  of  Roland  in  the  town.  An 
answer  could  not  be  received  from  the  con- 
vent before  early  the  next  morning.  Now 
the  thought  presented  itself,  that  perhaps 
Roland  was  with  Count  Wolfsgarten.  A 
messenger  was  sent  thither,  and  they  re- 
turned to  the  villa. 

When  Sonnenkamp  extended  his  hand  to 
the  Major  to  help,  him  into  the  carriage  the 
flatter  said,  — 

"  Your  hand  is  so  cold  to-day." 

It  shot  through  Sonnenkamp's  brain,  like 
an  arrow,  that  he  had  wanted  to  punish  the 
boy  to-day.  If  the  boy,  with  this  thought 
in  his  mind,  had  drowned  himself  in  the 
waters  of  the  Rhine  ! 

The  ring  on  his  thumb  burned  into  his 
flesh,  as  if  it  were  red-hot. 

Joseph  met  them  on  their  way  back  to 
the  villa. 

Is  he  there?"  cried  the  Major.  Son- 


138 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


nenkamp  could  not  himself  ask  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  No ;  but  the  gracious  lady  has  got  hold 

of  it." 

In  the  village  through  which  they  drove, 
people  were  still  standing  together  in 
groups,  and  chatting  in  the  mild  spring- 
night.  They  met  the  priest,  and  Sonnen- 
kamp requested  him  to  accompany  them  to 
the  villa. 

When  they  arrrived  at  the  court  of  the 
villa,  Sonnenkamp  remained  sitting  in  the 
carriage,  as  if  he  had  lost  himself,  and  did 
not  get  out  until  he  was  spoken  to.  He 
gained  strength  and  self-possession  after  his 
feet  touched  the  ground. 

Lights  flitted  to  and  fro,  and  shone 
through  the  lofty  windows  of  the  house. 
Now  a  shriek  was  heard,  and  he  hurried  in. 
In  the  great  saloon,  Frau  Ceres,  in  her 
night-dress,  was  kneeling  before  a  chair,  her 
face  hidden  in  the  cushion.  The  priest 
stood  by  her  side,  Fräulein  Perini  was 
pouring  an  effervescent  powder  into  a 
glass.  Sonnenkamp  went  quickly  to  his 
wife,  placed  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder, 
crying,  — 

"  Ceres,  be  quiet." 

The  lady  turned  round,  glared  at  him 
with  glowing  eyes,  then  sprang  up,  tore 
open  the  garment  on  his  breast,  shrieking,  — 

"  My  son  !  give  me  my  son,  you  —  " 

Sonncnkamp  held  his  broad  hand  over 
her  mouth ;  she  tried  to  bite  him,  but  he 
kept  her  mouth  closed,  and  she  was  still. 

Sonnenkamp  requested  the  priest  and 
Fräulein  Perini  to  leave  his  wife ;  Fräulein 
Perini  hesitated,  but  a  wave  of  his  hand 
gave  her  decided  orders  to  go.  She  and  the 
Ecclesiastic  left  the  room.  Now  Sonnen- 
kamp took  Frau  Ceres  up  in  his  arms,  as  if 
she  were  a  child ;  carried  her  in  to  her  cham- 
ber, and  laid  her  upon  the  bed.  Her  feet 
were  cold,  and  he  wrapped  a  cloth  around 
them  in  such  a  manner,  that  they  were 
firmly  bound.  After  a  .while,  Frau  Ceres 
slept,  or  only  pretended  to  be  asleep ;  it 
was  the  same  either  way.  He  went  out 
into  the  balcony-chamber,  where  the  Eccle- 
siastic, the  Major,  and  Fräulein  Perini  were 
sitting  together.  He  urged  the  priest  to 
betake  himself  to  rest,  thanking  him  very 
warmly ;  he  said  the  same  to  Fräulein 
Perini,  with  an  odd  mingling  of  courteous- 
ness  and  authoritativeness  in  his  manner ; 
he  requested  the  Major  to  stay  with  him. 

For  an  hour  he  sat  with  the  Major  at  the 
open  balcony-door,  looking  up  at  the  starry 
heaven  and  listening  to  the  rushing  river ; 
then  he  requested  the  Major  to  go  to  bed ; 
the  day  would  enable  them  to  proceed  qui- 
etly on  sure  ground.    He  himself  lay  down 


in  the  ante-chamber  to  his  wife's  room ;  he 
went  again  softly  to  her  bed,  shading  the 
light  with  his  hand ;  she  was  sleeping 
quietly,  with  burning  cheeks. 

All  was  still  at  the  villa.  Sonnenkamp 
was  waked  up  when  the  messenger  returned 
from  Wolfsgarten;  they  knew  nothing  of 
Roland  there. 

"Is  Herr  von  Pranken  coming?'1  asked 
Sonnenkamp.    The  messenger  did  not  know. 

Sonnenkamp  was  very  weary,  and  ex- 
hausted from  want  of  sleep,  but  he  could 
not  rest ;  he  stood  at  the  balcony  and  lis- 
tened to  the  singing  of  the  birds  and  the 
rushing  of  the  river ;  he  saw  the  sun  rise 
in  the  heavens,  he  heard  the  clocks  strike ; 
the  whole  world,  so  fresh  and  beautiful, 
seemed  to  him  a  chaos.  His  daughter  at 
the  convent,  and  his  wife  ready,  at  any  mo- 
ment, to  testify  the  most  horrible  things 
against  him,  and  hi*  son  disappeared,  leav- 
ing no  trace  !  Perhaps  his  corpse  is  float- 
ing yonder  in  the  water !  It  seemed  to 
Sonnenkamp,  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  must 
throw  himself  headlong  from  the  balcony, 
and  put  an  end  to  his  life.  Then  he  stood 
erect  and  took  a  fresh  cigar. 

He  went  down  into  the  park ;  the  trees 
were  quivering  noiselessly  in  the  early 
dawn,  and  their  leaves  rustled  and  whis- 
pered when  the  morning  sunbeam  stirred 
them  into  music  and  motion.  The  birds 
were  carroling ;  they  had  their  home  and 
their  family,  and  to  them  no  child  was  mis- 
sing  

Sonnenkamp  wandered  hither  and  thither. 
This  soil  is  his,  these  trees  are  his,  every- 
thing is  green,  blooming,  breathing  a 
fresh  life.  Does  he  still  breathe  for  whom 
all  this  had  life,  for  whom  it  all  was  to  live, 
for  whom  it  was  planted  and  set  in  order  ? 

**  Why  is  it?  why  is  it?11  shrieked  Son- 
nenkamp through  the  park.  No  reply 
came  from  without ;  perhaps  one  came  from 
within,  for  he  pressed  both  hands,  doubled 
up,  against  his  breast. 

He  came  into  the  orchard.  There  stood 
the  trees,  whose  branches  he  had  shaped 
according  to  his  pleasure  ;  they  stood  in  full 
blossom,  and  now,  in  the  first  morning 
beam,  the  blossoms  were  falling  down  like  a 
low  rustling  rain  upon  the  ground,  that 
looked  white  as  if  covered  with  flakes  of 
snow. 

The  lighter  the  morning  became,  the 
more  confident  did  Sonnenkamp  feel  that 
Roland  was  floating  there  a  corpse  in  the 
river,  which  was  now  of  a  reddish  purple, 
a  stream  of  blood ;  the  far-extending  water 
was  nothing  but  blood  !  He  uttered  a  deep 
groan,  and  stretched  out  his  hand,  as  if  he 
must  grasp  and  throttle  something.  He 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


139 


seized  hold  of  a  tree  and  shook  it,  and 
shook  it  again  and  again,  so  that  there  was 
scarcely  a  blossom  left  upon  it;  he  stood 
there  covered  all  over  with  the  petals.  And 
now  he  broke  out  into  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  Life  shall  not  vanquish  nie  !  Nothing  ! 
Not  even  thou  !    Roland,  where  art  thou  ?  " 

At  this  instant  he  saw  a  white  form,  with 
a  strange  head-covering,  glide  through  the 
orchard,  and  vanish  behind  the  trees.  What 
is  that  ?  He  rubbed  his  eyes.  Was  that  a 
mere  fancy,  or  was  it  a  reality  ? 

He  went  after  the  apparition. 

"  Stop,"  he  cried,  *'  there  are  steel-traps 
there,  there's  a  spring-gun  there  !  "  A  wo- 
man's voice  uttered  a  lamentable  shriek. 
Sonnenkamp  went  up  to  her,  and  Fräulein 
Milch  stood  before  him.  "  What  do  you 
want  here  ?    What's  the  matter  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  the  Herr  Major." 

"  He  is  still  asleep." 

"  I  may  also  tell  you,"  Fräulein  Milch 
began,  composing  herself,  "  it  leaves  me  no 
rest." 

"  Out  with  it,  — no  preliminaries  !  " 

Fräulein  Milch  drew  herself  up  haughtily 
and  said,  — 

1 1  If  you  are  in  that  humor,  I  can  go  away 
as  I  came." 

"Excuse  me,  what  then  do  you  want?" 
he  asked  gently. 

"  1  had  a  suggestion  for  you." 

Sonnenkamp  composed  himself  to  listen 
patiently,  and  nodded  to  her  to  go  on.  She 
now  said  that  she  could  not  rest,  she  did 
not  know  whether  the  Major  had  suggested 
it.  Sonnenkamp  broke  off  impatiently  a 
blossoming  twig,  and  Fräulein  Milch  con- 
tinued, — •  she  thought  that  the  Herr  Cap- 
tain Dournay  might  perhaps  know  where 
Roland  Avas  ;  they  ought  to  telegraph  to  him. 

Sonnenkamp  thanked  the  old  dame  with 
a  very  obliging  smile,  and  said,  exercising 
great  self-command,  that  he  would  wake  up 
the  Major,  and  send  him  into  the  garden ; 
but  Fräulein  Milch  begged  that  he  might 
be  allowed  to  take  his  sleep  quietly.  She 
turned  back  to  her  house,  and  Sonnenkamp 
walked  on  through  the  park. 

The  roses  had  bloomed  out  -during  the 
night,  and  from  hundreds  of  stems  and 
bushes  sent  their  fragrance  to  their  owner, 
but  he  was  not  refreshed  by  it.  Here  is  the 
park,  here  are  the  trees,  here  is  the  house, 
all  this  can  be  acquired,  can  be  won.  But 
one  thing  cannot  be  won :  a  life,  a  child's 
life,  a  child's  heart,  a  union  of  soul  with 
soul,  which  can  never  be  sundered,  and 
can  never  come  to  an  end. 

And  again  came  to  him  that  cutting  sen- 
tence, —  You  have  killed  the  noblest  im- 
pulses in  your  fellow-men,  the  feeling  of 


father,  and  mother,  and  child.  Now  it  is 
you  who  suffer ! 

Why  does  the  word  of  that  opponent  in 
the  New  World  hover  around  him  to-day,  to- 
day, as  it  did  yesterday  ?  Is  that  terrible 
man,  perchance,  on  board  that  boat  which 
is  now  steaming  up  the  stream  in  the  first 
morning  light  ? 

He  could  not  imagine  that,  at  this  very 
moment,  the  child  of  this  man  was  speaking 
to  his  own  child. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
WHAT  IS  STIRRING  BY  NIGHT. 

The  roses  in  the  garden,  and  in  the 
youth's  soul,  all  opened  during  the  night. 

To  Eric !  Roland's  open  mouth  would 
have  said,  but  no  sound  was  uttered,  he 
said  it  only  to  himself.  It  was  a  clear  star- 
light-night, the  waning  moon,  in  its  third 
quarter,  hung  in  the  heavens,  giving  a  soft 
light,  and  Roland  was  penetrated  with  such 
a  feeling  of  gladness,  that  he  often  threw 
out  his  arms,  as  if  they  were  wings  with 
which  he  could  easily  fly.  He  went  at  a 
quick  pace,  as  if  he  were  pursued ;  he 
heard  steps  behind  him,  and  stopped;  it 
was  only  the  echo  of  his  own  footsteps. 

At  a  distance  a  group  of  men,  standing 
still,  were  waiting  for  him.  He  came  nearer ; 
they  were  wooden  posts,  painted  black,  in- 
tended to  fence  in  a  vineyard.  He  mod- 
erated his  pace,  and  would  have  sung,  but 
he  feared  to  betray  himself  by  any  sound. 
He  stood  still  upon  an  elevation,  and  heard 
far  below  upon  the  river  the  wheezy  puffing 
of  a  tow-boat ;  he  saw  the  lights  upon  the 
masts  of  the  boats  in  tow,  and  they  moved 
along  so  wonderfully  !  He  counted  them, 
and  there  were  seven. 

"  They  are  also  awake,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, and  it  occurred  to  him,  for  the  first 
time,  that  people  were  obliged  to  be  awake, 
and  to  labor  at  night  to  earn  their  living,  as 
the  engineers  there  on  the  tow-boat,  the 
helmsmen,  and  the  boatmen  on  the  boats  in 
tow. 

Why  is  this  ?  What  forces  men  to  this  ? 
The  boy  angrily  shook  his  head.  Why  did 
this  trouble  him  ?  He  walked  on  over  the 
high  level  plain,  and  then  ascended  a  hill 
behind  it.  He  took  a  childlike  pleasure 
that  his  shadow  accompanied  him.  He  kept 
always  the  middle  of  the  road ;  the  ditches 
by  the  wayside  looked  dismal  and  haunted. 
He  was  startled  at  the  shadows  which  the 
trees  cast  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  and  was 
glad  when  he  came  where  it  was  clear  and 
bright.  When  he  drew  near  to  a  village, 
he  felt  secure,  for  although  everybody  was 
asleep,  yet  he  was  in  the  midst  of  human 


140 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


beings.  The  boy  had  been  told  that,  by 
night,  thieves  and  murderers  go  about  on 
all  the  roads  to  rob  and  to  murder.  What 
did  he  have  about  him  for  them  to  rob? 
His  watch  and  chain.  He  took  out  his 
watch,  wanting  to  conceal  it. 

"  For  shame  !  "  he  suddenly  cried.  He 
became  conscious  how  afraid  he  was  in  the 
deptli  of  his  soul;  he  would  not  be  afraid. 
He  boldly  summoned  up  the  dangers  which 
he  wanted  to  encounter,  rejoiced  over  them, 
and  cried  aloud,  — 

"Come  on!  Here  am  I,  and  here  is 
Devil  too!  Isn't  it  so,  Devil?  Just  let 
them  come  on  !  "  he  said  to  the  dog  caress- 
ingly.   The  dog  leaped  up  to  him. 

He  passed  through  a  village.  All  were 
asleep,  except  that  here  and  there  a  dog 
barked,  scenting  Devil's  proximity.  Roland 
ordered  him  to  be  quiet,  and  he  obeyed. 
The  boy  recognized  the  village  as  the  one 
where  he  had  been  with  the  doctor  and  Eric 
on  Sunday ;  here  was  the  house  where  the 
man  had  died ;  here  on  the  opposite  side 
was  the  gymnastic  ground,  where  he  had 
exercised  with  Eric.  At  last  he  came  to 
the  house  of  Sevenpiper,  where  the  entire 
orchestra  were  now  asleep.  He  stood 
awhile,  considering  whether  he  should  not 
wake  up  some  one  in  the  house,  either  to 
go  with  him,  or  to  be  sent  to  his  father. 
He  rejected  both  suggestions  and  went  on. 

The  night  was  perfectly  still ;  the  only 
sound  was  the  occasional  barking  of  a  dog 
at  a  distance,  as  if  disturbed  in  his  sleep. 
A  brook  rippled  by  the  wayside,  and  he  was 
glad  to  hear  its  strange  sound ;  it  went  as 
if  chatting  with  him  for  a  while,  and  then 
disappeared,  and  all  was  silent.  He  passed 
through  a  ravine,  where  it  was  so  dark 
from  the  high  trees  on  both  sides  that  he 
could  not  see  the  path ;  quietly  composing 
himself,  he  went  forward,  thinking  how 
beautiful  it  must  be  there  in  the  clear  day- 
light. He  emerged  from  the  ravine,  and 
was  rejoiced  to  be  in  the  highway  again. 
Over  the  ridge  of  a  mountain  shone  a  star, 
so  large,  so  brilliant,  always  going '  up 
higher,  and  gleaming  so  brightly  !  Does 
Manna  know  what  star  this  is  ? 

There  Avas  a  light  in  the  first  house  of  a 
village;  he  stopped.  He  heard  voices. 
The  woman  inside  was  mourning  and  lament- 
ing, that,  on  the  morrow,  her  only  cow  was  to 
be  sold.  Taking  his  resolution  quickly,  Ro- 
land placed  several  gold  pieces  upon  the 
window-sill  of  the  lower  room,  and  knocked 
on  the  window-pane,  crying,  — 

"  You  people!  there  is  some  money  for 
the  cow  upon  the  sill." 

He  ran  breathlessly  away,  a  sort  of 
trouble  coming  over  him,  as  if  he  were  a 


thief ;  he  did  not  stop  until  he  had  gone 
some  distance,  crouching  down  in  a  ditch. 
He  could  not  tell  why  he  had  run  from 
there.  As  he  now  lay  there  and  hearkened 
whether  the  people  followed  him,  he  laughed 
merrily  to  himself,  to  think  that  it  must  seem 
to  them  to  have  been  some  spirit  that  goes 
about  healing  men's  sorrows,  and  making 
them  grateful.  No  one  came.  He  went 
on  vigorously,  happy  in  the  thought  of  what 
he  had  done,  and  thinking  that  when  he  had 
a  great  deal  of  money  —  as  he  would  have 
at  some  time  —  he  would  go  about  secretly 
in  the  world,  and  thus  make  everybody 
happy  wherever  his  footsteps  went. 

When  he  fixed  his  gaze  again  upon  the 
path,  he  saw  a  strange-looking  man  in  the 
field  by  the  wayside,  who  was  aiming  a  gun 
directly  at  him.  Roland,  trembling,  stood 
still,  and  asked  the  man  what  he  wanted ; 
the  man  did  not  move.  Roland  set  the  dog 
upon  him,  and  the  dog  came  back,  shaking 
his  head.  Roland  went  up  to  the  form,  and 
laughed  and  trembled  at  the  same  time,  to 
find  that  it  was  nothing  but  a  scarecrow. 

A  wagon,  groaning  under  its  heavy  load, 
came  nearer  and  nearer.  It  was  a  strange 
creaking  and  clattering,  as  the  wagon 
swayed  upon  its  axle,  and  the  wheels  grated 
upon  and  crushed  the  stones.  Roland  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  wagon  had  only 
two  wheels,  and  was  drawn  by  one  horse. 
He  kept  still,  in  order  to  determine  this, 
and  then  he  heard  the  sound  of  several 
hoofs.  He  awaited  the  approach  of  the 
wagon,  and  saw  that  there  were  two  horses 
harnessed  tandem  to  a  wagon  with  only  two 
wheels.  Roland  went  on  one  side,  and 
waited  for  the  wagon  to  go  by ;  the  driver 
walked  near  it,  whistling  and  cracking  his 
whip.  Roland  walked  on,  keeping  at  a  lit- 
tle distance  behind  the  wagon.  A  fearful- 
ness  had  taken  possession  of  the  youthful 
wanderer  by  night,  and  now  he  felt  himself 
near  a  human  being  who  was  awake  ;  if  any 
danger  threatened  he  could  call  upon  him. 
"  Yes,"  he  said  inwardly  to  himself,  "this 
is  how  I  would  call  out,  — 

"'Help!  help!1" 

But  no  danger  presented  itself.  And  he 
said  to  his  dog,  as  if  in  derision,  — 

"  Shame  that  nobody  assails  us,  to  give 
us  both  a  chance  to  show  how  courageous 
we  are." 

But  he  was  terrified  when  all  at  once  he 
heard  nothing  more  of  the  wagon ;  it  had 
stopped  at  the  toll-gate.  When  it  again 
creaked  he  was  in  good  spirits  once  more. 
The  wagon  halted  at  the  first  house  of  the 
next  village.  The  hostler,  who  seemed  to 
have  been  expecting  the  driver,  was  not  a 
little  amazed  to  see,  by  the  light  of  the  lan- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  KHINE. 


141 


tern  which  he  had  with  him,  a  handsome 
boy  with  sparkling  eyes.  "Hi!  who  may 
this  be?"  the  servant  cried,  leaving  his 
mouth  wide  open  with  astonishment  and 
terror,  for  the  great  dog  sniffed  about  his 
legs,  then  placed  himself  in  front  of  the 
terrified  fellow,  showing  all  his  teeth,  and 
blinking  back  to  his  master,  as  if  waiting 
for  the  watchword,  "  Seize  him  !  " 

Roland  ordered  the  dog  to  come  away. 
There  must  have  been  something  in  his 
voice  that  produced  a  feeling  of  respect  in 
the  driver  and  in  the  servant. 

They  asked  him  whether  he  would  not 
also  take  a  drink.  Roland  said  yes.  And 
he  sat  now  at  table,  touching  glasses  with 
the  teamster  by  the  light  of  a  solitary  oil 
lamp.  The  servant  was  inquisitive,  and 
said  with  a  smirk,  pointing  to  Roland's  del- 
icate hand,  — 

"  That's  a  splendid  finger-ring;  how  that 
stone  does  shine !  That  is  worth  ever  so 
much,  isn't  it  ?  You  !  make  me  a  present 
of  that.1' 

The  landlord,  in  the  sleeping-room  ad- 
joining, hearing  this,  came  in,  ghostlike,  in 
his  shirt  and  drawers.  Roland  was  now 
asked  who  he  was,  whence  he  came,  and 
where  he  was  going.  He  gave  an  evasive 
answer. 

The  teamster  left,  and  Roland,  keeping 
by  his  side,  listened  to  the  narration  of  his 
way  of  life.  He  learned  that  the  wagon  was 
loaded  with  new  stone  bottles,  which  were 
carried  to  a  neighboring  mineral-spring, 
and  thence  were  sent  into  all  the  world,  even 
as  far  as  Holland.  Roland  was  astonished  to 
find  how  many  kinds  of  occupation  were 
requisite,  before  the  mineral-water  was 
drunk  at  his  father's  table.  For  the  team- 
ster, Holland  was  the  end  of  the  world ;  he 
was  amazed  when  Roland  told  him  that 
there  were  many  countries,  even  whole 
divisions  of  the  earth,  much  farther  off  than 
Holland.  The  teamster  was  surprised  at 
Roland's  extensive  knowledge,  and  inquired 
if  he  had  ever  been  so  far  away. 

Roland  gave  an  indirect  reply.  And  now 
the  teamster  told  him  that  he  himself  was 
an  honest  fellow,  that  he  had  earned  by 
hard  work  everything  which  he  had  upon 
his  back,  and  he  would  go  hungry  and  beg, 
before  he  would  get  anything  by  dishonest 
means.  He  advised  Roland,  if  he  had 
done  anything  which  made  him  afraid  of 
being'  punished  —  if  perhaps  he  had  stolen 
the  ring  —  he  had  better  return  and  give 
everything  up.  Roland  set  the  man  at 
rest. 

The  road  led  through  a  small  forest  of 
handsome  oak-trees.    The   screeching  of 


an  owl  was  heard,  sounding  like  a  mocking 
laugh. 

"  Thank  God,"  said  the  teamster,  "  that 
you  are  with  me ;  did  you  hear  that 
laugh  ?  " 

"  That  is  no  laugh,  that  was  a  screech- 
owl." 

"Yes,  screech-owl. —  that's  the  laughing 
spirit." 

"  The  laughing-spirit  ?  Tell  me  what 
that  is." 

4 '  Yes  ;  my  mother  heard  it  once  in  broad 
daylight,  when  she  was  just  a  little  girl. 
The  children  were  at  one  time  out  there 
in  the  wood,  to  get  acorns.  You  perhaps 
know  that  they  shake  down  the  acorns 
and  place  a  white  cloth  under  the  tree,  and 
catch  them  in  that ;  it  makes  the  best  food 
for  hogs.  Well,  the  children  are  in  the 
woods  on  a  fine  afternoon  in  autumn,  the 
boys  get  up  into  the  tree  and  shake  down 
the  acorns,  and  there  is  such  a  rattling ! 
Then  they  hear,  all  at  once,  in  the  thicket  a 
loud  laugh.  'What  is  that?'  —  *  O,'  says 
my  mother,  *  that  is  a  spirit.  '  What ! ' 
says  a  saucy  fellow  there,  '  if  it's  a  spirit, 
then  I  will  just  for  once  take  a  look  at 
him.'  He  goes  into  the  thicket,  and  when 
he  once  gets  into  the  thicket,  there  sits  a 
mighty  little  dwarf  upon  a  tree-stump  ;  his 
head  is  almost  bigger  than  his  whole  body, 
he  is  gray  all  over,  and  he  has  a  long  gray 
beard.  And  the  boy  asks,  4  Is't  you  that 
laughed  so  ? '  *  Nobody  else,'  says  the 
dwarf,  and  laughs  once  more,  exactly  as 
before.  *  You  have  shaken  down  the 
acorns,  but  there  is  one  fallen  down  under  the 
cloth,  deep  into  the  moss,  that  you  will  not 
find,  and  out  of  that  acorn  will  grow  up  a 
tree,  and  when  it  is  large  enough  it  will  be 
cut  down,  and  out  of  one  part  of  the  boards 
a  cradle  will  be  made,  and  out  of  the  other 
part  a  door,  and  a  child  will  be  laid  in  the 
cradle,  and  when  that  child  shall  open  that 
door  for  the  first  time,  I  shall  be  released. 
Until  that  time  I  must  wander  about,  be- 
cause I  have  been  a  forest-trepasser,  and 
lived  on  dishonest  means.'  The  little 
dwarf  laughs  again,  and  then  vanishes 
into  the  tree-stump.  Since  then  he's  been 
heard  many  a  time,  but  nobody's  seen  him 
again.  Everybody  knows  the  oak-tree  in 
the  forest,  but  no  one  disturbs  it." 

Roland  shuddered.  He  did  not  believe 
in  the  story,  but  he  gave  attention  while 
the  teamster  continued  to  relate  to  him 
how  hard  it  was  to  get  rid  of  possessions 
dishonestly  acquired. 

Gradually  it  began  to  be  twilight.  Ro- 
land extended  his  hand  to  the  teamster,  and 
bade  him  good-bye,  as  he  wished  to  stay 


142 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


here  and  wait  awhile.  The  teamster  seated 
himself  upon  the  wagon-shafts,  and  fixed 
himself  comfortably,  as  it  was  now  day, 
and  he  could  doze  a  little. 

The  boy  sat  down  upon  a  pile  of  stones, 
gazing  into  vacancy,  and  listening  to  the 
gradual  dying  away  in  the  distance  of  the 
rattling  and  creaking  wagon.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  he  represented  to  himself 
in  imagination  the  way  in  which  a  human 
being  lives.  He  saw,  as  in  a  dream,  the 
teamster  arriving  at  his  place  of  destina- 
tion, he  saw  him  lying  in  the  shed  upon  the 
bundle  of  hay  which  he  afterwards  threw  to 
his  horses. 

Roland  had  never  yet  been  so  alone,  so 
without  attendance,  so  conscious  that  no 
one  could  call  to  him  ;  it  seemed  that  he 
now  saw,  for  the  first  time,  the  world  and 
all  that  is  in  it.  He  followed  the  path  of 
a  little  beetle,  which  crept  swiftly  along 
the  ground  and  scrambled  up  a  stalk. 

Incomprehensible- thoughts  were  stirring 
in  his  youthful  spirit.  What  an  infinite 
fulness  of  existence  is  the  world !  In  the 
hedges  of  wild  roses,  just  opening  their 
buds  by  the  roadside,  sat  motionless  bee- 
tles and  insects  of  all  kinds,  and  a  g»eat 
buzzing  and  humming  came  from  one  open 
flower-cup  to  another.  Here  had  beetles, 
butterflies,  flies,  and  spiders  spent  the 
night,  and  the  well-roofed  snails  were 
quietly  housed  upon  the  twigs. 

He  saw  a  field-mouse  come  out  of  its 
hole ;  first  it  remained  resting  upon  the 
edge,  listening,  looking  round,  moving  its 
chaps,  and  finally  it  slipped  out,  and 
quickly  disappeared  into  another  hole 
among  the  grass.  A  variegated  beetle,  in 
the  early  morning,  ran  across  the  field- 
path,  fearing  the  public  road,  and  feeling 
perfectly  safe  only  among  the  thicket  of 
the  grain. 

A  hare  ran  out,  and  Devil  sprang  after 
him;  Roland  involuntarily  felt  at  his  side 
to  seize  hold  of  his  gun. 

As  if  emerging  from  beneath  the  surface 
of  an  overwhelming  floo(J  of  impressions, 
Roland  rose  up.  The  sun  had  risen ;  he 
could  not  endure  its  splendor,  and  with 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground  he  went  on. 
But  his  step'lagged,  for  a  voice  spoke  in 
him :  — 

"  Turn  back  to  father  and  mother !  "  But 
suddenly  he  cried  aioud,  — 
"  Eric!" 

"  Eric  !  "  was  repeated  again  in  multiple 
echoes,  and  Roland  walked  on  now,  as  if 
called  by  the  mountains  themselves.  It 
seemed  to  him,  not  as  if  he  walked,  but  as 
if  lie  were  lifted  up  and  carried  along.  The 
night  without  sleep,  the  wine,  all  that  he  had 


experienced,  excited  his  imagination,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  he  must  now  meet  with  some- 
thing which  no  one  else  had  ever  met  with — 
something  inexpressible,  incomprehensible, 
miraculous.  He  looked  round,  expecting 
to  see  it;  something  must  certainly  come  to 
him  and  say,  "  For  thee  have  I  waited;  art 
thou  here  at  last  ?  "  And  as  he  thus  looked 
round,  he  noticed  that  the  dog  had  left  him. 
The  wood  yonder  was  near,  the  dog  had 
evidently  run  after  a  hare  or  a  wild  rabbit. 
Roland  whistled,  he  wished  to  call  aloud, 
"  Devil !  Devil !  "  but  he  did  not  utter  the 
word.  He  called  the  old  name,  "  Griffin  ! " 
The  dog  bounded  towards  him,  his  tongue 
lolling  from  his  mouth ;  he  was  wet  with  the 
dew  of  the  corn-field  through  which  he  had 
run.  Roland  found  it  difficult  to  keep  the 
dog  off,  for  he  seemed  perfectly  happy  to 
have  his  name  again ;  he  looked  up  intelli- 
gently, panting  quickly. 

"Yes,  your  name  is  Griffin!"  Roland 
cried  to  him.  "Now  down!"  The  dog 
kept  close  to  his  feet. 

As  the  road  now  led  through  the  forest, 
Roland  turned  aside,  and  laid  himself  down 
on  the  moss  under  a  fir-tree ;  the  birds 
sang  over  his  head,  and  the  cuckoo  called. 
The  dog  sat  near  him,  and  seemed  almost 
jealous  that  Roland  did  not  vouchsafe  him 
a  single  glance.  Roland  parted  his  jaws, 
and  took  delight  in  the  magnificent  teeth ; 
then  he  said, — his  own  hunger  might  have 
made  him  think  of  it,  — 

"  The  next  place  we  come  to  where  there's 
a  butcher,  you  shall  have  a  sausage." 

The  dog  licked  his  chaps,  jumped  round 
and  round  as  if  he  understood  the  words, 
chased  the  crows  which  were  that  early  look- 
ing for  their  food  in  the  field,  and  barked  at 
the  rising  sun. 

The  tired  boy  was  soon  asleep ;  the  dog 
placed  himself  by  his  side,  but  he  knew  his 
duty,  and  did  not  lie  down ;  he  remained 
sitting,  and  resisted  sleep.  Occasionally  he 
winked,  however,  as  if  it  were  hard  work 
to  keep  his  weary  eyes  open  ;  then  he  shook 
his  head,  and  kept  faithful  watch  by  his  mas- 
ter. Suddenly  Roland  awoke.  A  child's . 
voice  awakened  him. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  LILY  OF  THE  VALLEY. 

Roland  rubbed  his  eyes ;  before  him 
stood  a  child,  a  little  girl  in  a  snow-white 
dress  and  blue  sash.  Her  face  was  rosy, 
great  blue  eyes  beamed  out  from  it,  and 
long  golden  curls  hung  loose  over  her  neck. 
In  her  hand  she  held  a  bunch  of  wild-flow- 
ers. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


143 


Griffin  stood  in  front  of  the  child,  and 
kept  her  from  coming  nearer. 

"Back,  Griffin!1'  cried  Roland,  rising; 
the  dog  fell  behind  his  master. 

"This  is  the  German  forest ! 11  said  the 
child  with  a  foreign  accent,  and  a  voice  that 
might  belong  to  a  princess  in  a  fairy  tale. 
"  This  is  the  German  forest !  I  have  only- 
been  gathering  flowers.  Are  you  the  forest 
prince  ?  " 

"  No,  but  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  from  America.  My  uncle 
brought  me  here  this  morning,  and  now  I 
am  to  stay  in  Germany." 

"  Come,  Lilian  !  Where  are  you  staying 
so  long?"  cried  a  man's  voice  from  the 
road. 

Roland  saw  through  the  trees  an  open 
carriage,  and  a  tall,  stately  gentleman  with 
snow-white  hair. 

"I'm  coining  directly,"  answered  the 
child  ;  "I  have  some  beautiful  flowers." 

"  Here,  take  this  one  from  me,"  said 
Roland,  gathering  a  full-blown  lily  of  the 
valley. 

The  little  girl  threw  down  all  the  flowers 
which  she  held,  took  Roland's,  cried, 
"  Good-bye,"  and  ran  to  the  carriage.  The 
man  lifted  her  in  as  she  pointed  back  to  the 
wood ;  the  carriage  rolled  away,  and  Ro- 
land stood  once  more  alone. 

Whoever  could  then  have  looked  down 
from  the  vault  of  heaven  would  have  seen 
a  marvel,  for  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
child  was  talking  with  Roland,  Sonnenkamp 
stood  on  the  terrace,  lost  in  thoughts  which 
made  him  shiver  in  the  frosty  morning  air. 

Roland  pressed  his  hand  to  his  brow. 
Had  it  really  happened,  or  had  he  only 
dreamed  ?  He  still  heard  the  roll  of  the  car- 
riage in  the  distance,  and  the  plucked  flow- 
ers on  the  ground  bore  witness  that  he  was 
living  in  the  actual  world.  But  had  the 
child  really  said  that  she  was  from  America? 
Why  had  he  not  followed  her  then  ?  Why 
had  he  not  spoken  to  the  old  man  ?  And 
now  no  one  could  tell  him  who  they  were, 
and  whither  the  child  had  gone. 

For  a  while  Roland  gazed  at  the  flowers 
before  him,  but  picked  up  none  of  them. 
Griffin  barked  at  him,  as  if  to  say,  Yes, 
and  men  assert  that  there  are  no  more  mir- 
acles !  He  sniffed  round  the  gathered  flow- 
ers, then  ran  off  on  the  track  of  the  child 
and  of  the  carriage,  as  if  he  wished  to  fulfil 
his  master's  desire  to  detain  the  people, 
that  he  might  talk  with  them.  Roland 
whistled  and  called  him ;  Griffin  came,  and 
Roland  reproved  him  : — 

"You  don't  deserve  to  have  any  sausage, 
you  are  so  unfaithful." 

Griffin  lay  down  beseechingly  at  his  feet ; 


he  could  not  explain  how  good  his  intention 
had  been. 

"  Well,  now  we  will  go,"  said  Roland. 
And  they  took  up  their  march  again. 

He  heard  the  whistle  of  a  locomotive  in 
the  distance,  and  went  in  that  direction. 
The  wood  was  soon  passed,  and  the  road 
led  again  through  vineyards.  On  a  side- 
path  Roland  saw  several  women  carrying 
powdered  slate,  from  a  great  heap,  into  a 
newly-planted  vineyard.  On  its  border, 
near  a  hedge,  burned  a  fire,  close  to  which 
stood  pots,  whose  contents  an  old  woman 
was  stirring  with  a  dry  bough.  Roland 
stopped,  and  the  old  woman  called  out  to 
ask  him  to  join  them ;  he  went  up  to  the 
group,  an<J  saw  that  coffee  was  boiling. 
The  other  women,  .young  and  old,  came 
nearer,  and  there  was  much  jesting  and 
laughter.  They  turned  their  baskets  up 
and  sat  upon  them ;  such  a  seat  was  also 
prepared  for  Roland,  and  a  sort  of  cushion 
placed  upon  it,  as  they  asked  him  whether 
he  were  not  a  prince.  Roland  answered, 
no ;  but  it  flattered  him  to  be  taken  for  a 
prince  in  this  way ;  he  was  very  condescend- 
ing, and  knew  how  to  joke  with  his  compan- 
ions. An  old  vine-dresser,  the  director  of 
the  work,  told  Roland,  whom  he  held  in 
some  regard  as  being  of  the  masculine  gen- 
der, that  he  drank  no  coffee :  it  was  a  stu- 
pid custom,  which  sent  money  out  of  the 
country  to  America,  never  to  come  baek. 

Roland  was  struck  by  this  second  mention 
of  America.  The  whole  party  listened  at- 
tentively when  he  told  them  that  it  was  not 
coffee,  but  sugar,  which  came  from  America. 

"And  our  sugar,"  said  the  old  woman, 
"  has  all  staid  in  America,  for  we  haven't 
any." 

The  first  cup,  and  the  cream  off  the  milk, 
were  given  to  Roland,  with  a  bit  of  black 
bread.  He  wished  to  give  the  people  some- 
thing in  payment,  but  now  discovered  that 
he  had  not  his  porte-monnaie  about  him. 
He  knew  that  he  had  had  it  in  the  inn ;  the 
knavish-looking  hostler  must  certainly  have 
stolen  it  from  him.  He  soon  overcame  his 
trouble  about  the  lost  money,  however,  and 
told  the  people  that,  some  time  or  other,  he 
would  show  kindness  to  a  stranger,  in  re- 
turn for  what  he  had  received. 

He  wandered  on.  He  had  learned  what 
it  was  to  enjoy  the  kindness  and  bounty  of 
poor  men,  now  that  he  was  himself  poor  and 
helpless  ;  that  was  his  best  experience. 

The  world  is  beautiful  and  men  are  good, 
even  if  a  hostler  could  not  resist  a  well-filled 
purse.  With  these  cheering  thoughts,  he 
went  on  his  way  and  soon  reached  the  rail- 
way-station. He  had.  carefully  avoided  any 
of  the  nearer  stations,  where  he  was  known 


144 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


and  might  easily  be  traced  ;  he  wished,  after 
making  a  circuit,  to  take  the  cars  at  a  dis- 
tant point. 

Here  Roland  was  accosted,  like  an  old 
acquaintance,  by  a  man  in  worn-out  clothes, 
and  with  one  boot  and  one  old  slipper  on 
his  feet. 

44  ( iood-morning,  my  dear  Baron  !  good- 
morning  !  11  cried  this  shabby-looking  per- 
sonage, coining  close  up  to  him. 

It  was  doubly  disagreeable  in  this  fresh 
morning,  after  such  a  night,  to  come  within 
the  atmosphere  of  this  man  so  impregnated 
with  brandy,  who  was  excessively  confiding 
in  his  manner  towards  Roland.  A  railway 
official,  in  the  most  polite  manner,  begged 
the  half-drunken  fellow  to  leave  the  travel- 
ler in  peace  ;  he  nodded  knowingly  to  Ro- 
land from  a  distance,  as  if  there  were  some 
important  secret  between  them.  Roland 
learned  that  the  man  belonged  to  a  respected 
family  of  the  nobility :  his  relations  had 
wished  to  help  him,  and  had  made  him  an 
annual  allowance,  but  it  was  of  no  use. 
Now  he  was  boarding  with  a  baggage-mas- 
ter, and  his  whole  amusement  was  in  the 
railroad.  Every  one  showed  him  due  re- 
spect, because  he  was  a  baron,  and  very 
much  to  be  pitied. 

Roland  shrank  from  the  man  as  if  he  were 
a  ghost.  The  excitement  of  the  night,  and 
of  all  which  he  had  been  through,  was  still 
affecting  him,  yet  the  thought  was  present 
to  him  how  strange  it  was  that  a  half- 
witted, half-intoxicated  man  should  be  so 
respectfully  treated,  simply  because  he  was 
a  baron. 

Roland  succeeded  in  borrowing  money 
for  his  journey  from  the  restorator  at  the 
station, "with  whom  he  left  his  diamond  ring 
in  pawn.  He  bought  a  ticket  for  the  uni- 
versity-town, and  at  last  took  his  seat  in  the 
car,  where  he  could  not  refrain  from  saying 
to  a  fellow-passenger,  — 

'*  Ah  !  it.  is  good  that  we  are  off." 

His  neighbor  stared  at  him  ;  he  could  not 
know  how  happy  it  made  the  sorely  weary 
boy,  to  be  carried  along  towards  Eric  with- 
out any  effort  of  his  own. 

44  Where  lies  your  way,  Herr  Baron  ?  " 
asked  the  neighbor, 

Roland  named  his  destination,  but  looked 
in  surprise  at  the  man  who  called  him  Baron  ; 
had  he  become  one  in  the  course  of  the 
night?  At  a  junction,  where  a  new  set  of 
officials  took  charge  of  the  train,  his  neigh- 
bor, who  was  leaving  it,  said  to  one  of 
them,  — 

"  Attend  to  the  young  Baron,  who  is 
sitting  there.11 

Roland  was  pleased  to  be  so  called,  and 
a  peculiar  feeling  came  over  him  of  the  sat- 


isfaction one  must  have  in  being  really  a 
baron ;  then  one  would  have  a  lasting  title 
with  lasting  honors  in  the  world.  The 
thought  only  passed  through  his  mind,  and 
quickly  vanished,  as  he  began  directly  to 
imagine  Eri^s  pleasure  at  seeing  him ;  his 
face  glowed  with  impatience  and  longing. 

Suddenly  a  painful  thought  struck  him. 
Where  had  he  left  the  dog  ?  He  had  quite 
lost  or  forgotten  him.  But  on  rolled  the 
cars  through  valleys,  cuts,  and  tunnels,  and 
it  seemed  to  Roland  a  year,  since  he  left  his 
home. 

Not  far  from  the  university,  where  the 
road  ao;ain  divided,  some  students  entered 
the  train.  They  soon  let  their  fellow-pas- 
sengers understand  that  they  had  performed 
the  great  exploit  of  drinking  a  May-bowl 
at  their  fathers1  expense  :  for  anybody  could 
drink  native  wine.  They  had  also  brought 
some  provision  into  the  car,  and  in  their 
generosity  or  their  ostentation  they  wanted 
Roland  to  drink  with  them,  but  he  declined 
with  as  much  modesty  as  decision. 

Twilight  had  gathered  when  they  reached 
the  university-town. 

Roland  asked  for  Doctor  Dournay ;  one 
of  the  students,  a  fine-looking  youth  who 
had  kept  aloof  from  the  noisy  party,  told 
him  to  come  with  him,  as  he  lived  near  the 
widow  of  the  professor.  As  Roland  went 
with  him,  a  strange  fear  came  upon  him : 
what  if  he  could  not  find  Eric?  or  if  Eric 
would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him  ? 
How  much  might  have  happened  since  they 
parted ! 

With  beating  heart  he  ascended  the  steep, 
dark,  wooden  staircase.  At  the  top,  the 
door  of  a  room  opened,  and  at  the  door 
stood  a  woman,  who  asked,  — 

"  Whom  do  you  wish  to  see  ? 11 

"  The  Herr  Captain  Dournay." 

"  He  is  away  from  home.11 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  NEW  SOX. 

Rolaxd  asked  to  be  allowed  to  come  in 
and  wait,  and  was  led  into  the  sitting-room  ; 
the  servant  maid  told  him  that  Eric  had 
gone  to  the  capital,  but  might  possibly  re- 
turn that  day.  His  mother  had  gone  to  the 
grave  of  a  son,  of  whose  death  this  was  the 
anniversary.  The  maid  went  out  to  light 
the  lamp,  and  Roland  was  alone  in  the 
room  where  the  twilight  shadows  gathered ; 
he  sat  in  the  corner  of  a  sofa,  weary,  and 
his  mind  full  of  varied  thoughts. 

Wonderful !  there  are  so  many  human 
dwellings  in  the  world,  -one  can  enter  them, 
and  all  at  once  one  is  seated  in  a  strange 
house. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


145 


Outside,  in  accordance  with  an  old  cus- 
tom, there  sounded  from  the  tower  a  choral, 
played  by  trumpets.  Roland  dreamed  of 
the  outer  world,  no  longer  conscious  where 
he  was,  but  remembering  only  that  he  had 
once  travelled  through  many  countries  and 
towns,  and  that  everywhere  in  the  houses 
lived  men,  who  led  their  own  lives,  of  which 
other  people  knew  nothing. 

Eric's  mother  entered.  She  stopped  at 
the  door,  as  Roland  rose,  saying,  — 

"  Good-evening,  mother.1' 

Stretching  out  her  arms,  the  mother 
cried,  — 

14  In  Heaven's  name,  Hermann  —  thou  ?  " 
"My  name  is  not  Hermann.    I  am  Ro- 
land." 

The  mother  approached  him  trembling ; 
just  then  the  aunt  came  in  with  a  light,  and 
all  was  explained.  Roland  said  that  he 
had  followed  Eric,  because  he  wished  never 
to  leave»him.  The  mother  kissed  him,  weep- 
ing and  sobbing. 

Steps  were  heard  on  the  stairs,  and  Eric 
entered.  Roland  had  no  strength  to  rise 
from  his  seat  as  Eric  exclaimed,  — 

14  You  — here  !  " 

Roland  could  hardly  utter  the  words  to 
explain  what  he  had  done.  He  stared 
wildly  at  Eric,  who  stood  before  him  like  a 
stranger,  without  even  holding  out  his  hand. 
As  soon  as  Roland  had  finished  speaking, 
Eric  said  sternly,  — 

"If  you  were  my  son,  I  would  punish 
you  severely  for  your  self-will,  and  the  anx- 
iety you  have  caused  your  family." 

"You  may  punish  me,  I  will  not  stir. 
No  one  in  the  world  could  punish  me  like 
you  ;  you  do  not  punish  like  " 

The  beating  of  his  heart  prevented  his 
finishing  what  he  was  about  to  say,  and 
perhaps  also  an  aversion  to  complaining  of 
his  father  restrained  him.  He  had  forgotten 
till  now  what  had  last  incited  him  to  run 
away,  and  only  remembered  the  longing  for 
Eric;  now  he  looked  around  him,  as  if  he 
saw  his  father's  upraised  hand  in  the  air. 

The  mother  took  him  again  into  her 
arms,  saying,  — 

44  Your  willingness  to  bear  punishment 
atones  for  and  washes  out  everything." 

44  Stay  here  with  my  mother,"  said  Eric, 
sternly  ;  "I  will  come  back  directly." 

He  hurried  out,  and  sent  a  telegram  to 
Herr  Sonnenkamp,  with  the  inquiry  whether 
he  would  come  for  Roland,  or  wished  to 
have  him  brought  home. 

When  Eric  returned,  he  found  Roland 
already  asleep  on  the  sofa.  He  was  tired 
out,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that 
they  could  awaken  him  to  be  put  to  bed. 
Eric  sat  a  long  time  with  his  mother,  talk- 


ing of  the  wonderful  manner  in  which  fate 
seemed  playing  with  them. 

His  mother  related  how,  as  she  came 
from  the  churchyard,  the  painful  thought- 
had  oppressed  her  that  even  she,  his  own 
mother,  could  not  quite  recall  how  Her- 
mann had  looked.  She  could  bring  his  face 
to  mind,  because  it  was  preserved  in  the 
photograph  which  hung,  in  its  frame  of  im- 
mortelles, just  over  her  sewing-machine  in 
the  bay-window.  But  Hermann's  motions, 
his  gait,  his  way  of  throwing  back  his  head 
with  its  thick  brown  hair,  of  laughing,  jest- 
ing, and  caressing ;  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
the  low,  dove-like  laugh, — all.  these  had 
vanished  from  her  —  his  mother.  So  she 
had  walked  on,  with  downcast  eyes,  often 
stopping,  as  she  tried  hard  to  call  up  the  im- 
age of  the  lost  one.  So  she  had  come  home, 
and  here  came  to  meet  her  a  form  like 
Hermann,  and  it  had  cried  out  to  her,  — 
"  Good-evening,  mother  !  "  in  his  very  tone. 
She  could  not  tell  why  she  had  not  fainted, 
and  she  spoke  now  of  Roland  with  the  same 
delight  which  Eric  had  felt  when  he  saw 
him  for  the  first  time. 

Eric,  on  his  side,  told  her  of  the  reasons 
for  and  against  undertaking  the  school,  and 
then  of  the  Minister's  offer.  He  would 
there  enter  a  position  which  his  father  had 
not  reached,  and  which  would,  perhaps, 
have  saved  his  life.  The  idea  of  receiving 
an  appointment  by  inheritance,  and  through 
favor,  without  any  merit  of  his  own,  op- 
pressed him  somewhat. 

His  mother  soothed  both  these  scruples, 
which  were  really  one,  and  quite  uncalled 
for,  as  he  had  the  right  to  collect  the  debt 
which  was  due  to  his  father,  and  still  more 
if  it  was  over  due. 

Very  lightly  she  touched  upon  the  good 
fortune  of  the  nobility,  in  being  able  to  re- 
ceive what  had  been  stored  up  by  past  gen- 
erations, and  to  hand  it  down  to  future  de- 
scendants. With  a  slightly  jesting  tone  she 
said,  — 

44  Our  professor  of  political  economy 
used  to  say  that  capital  was  accumulated 
labor;  so  family  standing  is  nothing  but 
accumulated  honor. '' 

There  were  times,  though  they  were  rare, 
when  the  mother,  from  the  standpoint  of 
her  inherited  opinions  and  habits,  saw  in 
many  of  the  sentiments  and  views  of  the 
burgher  class  an  obstinate  and  perverse  in- 
dependence which  she  could  not  approve. 
In  her  husband  this  had  rarely  and  slightly 
shown  itself,  but  in  Eric  it  was  more  active  ; 
he  had  that  haughty  self-reliance  which 
makes  a  man  unwilling  to  thank  any  one 
but  himself  for  his  position  and  power. 

She  had  never  repented  leaving  her  own 


146 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


class  to  marry  her  husband,  she  had  been 
too  happy  for  that ;  but  she  saw  in  Eric's 
position  something  like  a  grievous  conse- 
quence of  her  own  act.  Moved  by  these 
thoughts,  which  she  never  expressed,  she 
said,  — 

"I  can  easily  understand  how  you  feel 
drawn  to  this  American  ;  there  is  the  great- 
est honor  in  being  a  self-made  man.  Let 
us  unite  the  two  plans  then.  You  can 
bring  it  about,  since  the  boy  is  in  your 
hands,  that  the  American  shall  entrust  him 
to  you,  and  you  can  at  the  same  time  main- 
tain an  independent  position.1' 

Eric  replied  that  his  objection  to  the 
situation  did  not  consist  simply  in  his  re- 
ceiving it  as  a  favor ;  the  task  of  conducting 
foreign  visitors  of  princely  rank  through 
the  art-collections  was  distasteful  to  him ; 
he  did  not  think  that  he  could  conform  him- 
self to  it. 

Suddenly  his  mother  remembered  that  a 
letter  had  come  for  him,  and  she  gave  it  to 
him.  It  was  from  Clod  wig.  The  noble 
man  placed  at  Eric's  disposal  twice  the  sum 
that  he  had  asked  for.  Eric  was  made 
happy  by  this  news,  and  his  mother  nodded 
with  hearty  assent  when  he  said  that  the 
gift  rejoiced  him,  but  still  more  did  the  as- 
surance that  his  confidence  in  men  had  met 
with  so  glorious  a  confirmation. 

Midnight  was  past,  and  mother  and  son 
still  sat  together.  Eric  begged  his  mother 
to  go  to  bed  and  leave  him  to  wait  for  Son- 
nenkamp's  reply.  He  sat  long  alone  in  the 
night,  thinking  over  all  which  had-  passed, 
till  sleep  overcame  him. 

In  the  spirits  of  men,  as  well  as  in  the 
history  of  nations,  thoughts  and  sentiments 
are  formed  which  are  to  be  brought  into 
action  from  their  own  free  will,  when  sud- 
denly there  comes  an  over-mastering  fact, 
which  converts  the  free  choice  into  an  inev- 
itable necessity.  Thus  Eric's  entrance  into 
Sonnenkamp's  household  seemed  to  have 
been  made  an  unavoidable  necessity  by 
Roland's  rash  step. 

Eric  went  again,  with  scarcely  audible 
steps,  into  the  boy's  room.  So  wholly  was 
his  spirit  turned  toward  him  that  the  sleep- 
ing child  moaned,  "Eric,"  but  soon,  turning 
over,  slept  soundly  again. 

Eric  went  back  to  the  sitting-room,  and 
then  it  first  occurred  to  him  that  there  was 
no  night-watch  at  the  telegraph  office  in  Son- 
nenkamp's neighborhood;  the  father  could 
not  receive  the  news  till  morning.  Eric 
also  now  went  to  bed. 

Everything  was  late  in  the  house  of  the 
professor's  wife  the  next  morning ;  Eric 
slept  longest.  When  he  entered  the  sit- 
ting-room, he  found  Roland  already  with 


his  mother,  holding  a  small  wooden  coffee- 
mill  in  his  left  hand  and  turning  it  with  his 
right.  This  mill  was  an  heir-loom  which 
had  belonged  to  Eric's  grandfather,  who 
had  been  a  distinguished  anatomist  at  the 
university.  The  mother  had  already  told 
Roland  this,  and  had  shown  him  all  sorts 
of  ancient  household  furniture,  also  relics 
of  the  times  of  the  Huguenots. 

"  Ah,  how  pleasant  it  is  here  with  you  !  " 
cried  Roland  to  Eric,  as  he  entered. 

Something  of  long-established  family  ex- 
istence opened  upon  the  young  spirit,  and, 
at  this  morning  hour,  with  the  friendly  eyes 
of  three  people  resting  upon  him,  Roland 
felt  very  content  in  the  simple,  old-fash- 
ioned, domestic  life. 

CHAPTER  XV. 
AN  EXTRA  TRAIN. 

"  I've  been  through  a  great  deal,  but 
that  I  should  ever  be  obliged  to  go  through 
this  !  If  we  can  only  come  out  of  this  with 
a  whole  skin  !  This  may  be  called  a  wanton 
exposure  of  one's  life  —  and  one  has  no 
weapons  of  defence." 

Such  were  the  Major's  words,  stammered 
out  at  intervals,  as  he  held  on  to  a  tassel  of 
a  first-class  railway  car,  and  looked  sorrow- 
fully at  the  dog  Laadi  lying  at  his  feet, 
while  he  was  travelling  with  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp in  an  extra  train.  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
appeared  to  feel  a  joy  in  this  mad  speed. 

"  In  America,"  he  said,  "  they  go  three 
times  as  fast  in  an  extra  train." 

He  seemed  to  experience  a  secret  satis- 
faction in  showing  the  Major  that  there  was 
a  courage  wholly  different  from  that  of  the 
battle-field,  which  he  possessed  and  the 
Major  did  not.  He  had  accounts  to  tell  of 
trips  made  in  America  on  wagers.  And 
when  they  stopped  to  take  in  water,  Son- 
nenkamp took  leave  of  the  Major,  saying 
that  he  was  going  to  ride  on  the  locomo- 
tive, for  he  must  try  once  more  how  that 
seemed. 

The  Major  sat  with  Laadi  alone  in  the 
only  car  attached  to  the  locomotive;  he 
stared  fixedly  out  of  the  window,  where 
trees,  mountains,  and  villages  flew  by  like 
a  whirlwind,  and  he  thanked  God  that  Fräu- 
lein Milch  knew  nothing  of  his  consenting 
to  make  such  a  mad  trip  with  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp on  an  extra  train. 

And  why  is  this  man  in  such  a  hurry  ? 
The  Major  does  not  understand  it.  Some- 
times he  was  stingy  about  a  kreuzer,  and  so 
very  modest  that  he  wished  to  make  no  show 
and  to  excite  no  observation,  and  then 
again  he  was  very  lavish  with  his  money, 
and  did  everr  thing  to  attract  people's  at- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


147 


tention.  The  Major  did  not  understand 
the  man.  He  must  certainly  have  been  a 
locomotive-driver ;  and  what  is  there  that 
he  may  not  have  been  ! 

"Yes,  Laadi,"  exclaimed  he,  speaking  to 
the  dog,  "  come,  lie  down  by  me.  Yes, 
Laadi ;  neither  of  us  could  ever  dream  of 
going  through  this  !  If  we  only  once  do 
get  through  it !  Yes,  Laadi,  she  will  mourn 
for  you  too  if  we  are  killed." 

The  dog  growled  away  to  himself;  he 
must  have  been  full  of  wrath  also  at  the 
fool-hardy  Sonnenkamp. 

Madder  and  madder  was  the  speed  :  down 
they  went  over  descending  grades  near  the 
river,  and  the  Major  expected  every  instant 
that  the  locomotive  would  run  off  the  track, 
and  the  passenger-car  be  dashed  in  pieces 
and  tumbled  into  the  stream.  Yes,  there 
came  over  him  such  a  settled  fear,  or  rather 
expectation,  of  immediate  death,  that  he 
braced  his  feet  against  the  back  of  the 
seat,  and  thought  to  himself,  — 

"  Well,  death,  come  !  God  be  praised,  I 
have  never  harmed  anybody  in  the  world, 
and  Fräulein  Milch  has  been  cared  for,  so 
that  she  will  never  suffer  need." 

Tears  wet  his  closed  eyes,  and  he  made 
a  strange  face  in  order  to  stifle  his  tears ; 
he  was  unwilling  to  die,  and  then,  too,  when 
there  was  no  need  of  it.  He  opened  his 
eyes  with  rage,  and  doubled  up  his  fists ; 
this  extra  train  is  wholly  unnecessary ; 
Roland  was  known  to  be  in  good  hands. 
But  this  man  is  such  a  savage ! 

The  Major  was  very  angry  with  Sonnen- 
kamp, and  yet  more  with  himself,  for  being 
drawn  into  any  such  mad  freak.  All  his 
heroic  mood  was  gone,  he  was  wholly  un- 
reconciled to  the  position,  he  had  been 
duped,  this  was  not  fit  for  him.  Fräulein 
Milch  is  right ;  he  is  weak,  he  cannot  say 
no. 

Whenever  he  looked  out  he  became  dizzy. 
He  found  a  lucky  expedient ;  he  placed 
himself  so  as  to  ride  backwards.  There 
one  sees  only  what  has  been  gone  over,  and 
not  what  is  coming.  But  neither  does  this 
do  any  good  ;  it  is  even  more  terrible  than 
before,  for  one  sees  now  the  bold,  short 
curves  which  the  road  makes,  and  the  cars 
incline  on  one  side  as  if  to  plunge  over. 
And  now  tears  actually  flow  out  of  the  Ma- 
jor's eyes.  He  thought  of  the  funeral  ser- 
vice which  the  lodge  would  perforin  for  him 
after  he  was  dead  ;  he  heard  the  organ-peal, 
and  the  dirges,  saying  to  himself,  — 

"  You  eulogize  me  more  than  I  deserve, 
but  I  have  been  a  good  brother.  The 
Builder  of  all  the  worlds  is  my  witness  that 
I  meant  to  be." 

The  car  rolled  on  at  a  more  measured 


I  speed,  and  the  Major  consoled  himself  with 
the  thought  that  no  accident  had  ever  yet 
happened  on  this  road.  But  no,  he  went 
on  thinking,  perhaps  one  would  be  safer  on 
a  road  where  some  accident  has  already 
happened ;  the  people  here  are  too  careless, 
and  thou  must  be  the  first  victim.  Which 
would  Fräulein  Milch  consider  the  more 
dangerous,  a  road  which  had  already  expe- 
rienced mishaps,  or  one  like  this,  that  has 
now  to  meet  with  them  for  the  first  time  ? 
I  must  take  care  to  put  the  question  to  her. 
Don't  forget  it,  Laadi,  we  must  ask  her. 
He  had  now  overcome  all  fear,  and  he  be- 
came so  free  and  cheerful  that  he  ridiculed 
his  own  apprehensions,  thinking  that  the 
millionaire  on  the  locomotive  had  a  much 
greater  stake  involved,  putting  his  life  in 
peril,  and  that  he  would  not  do  it  if  there 
were  any  real  danger. 

The  dog  must  have  scented  out  the  peril 
of  the  rapid  journey,  for  she  was  in  a  con- 
tinual tremble,  and  looked  up  appealingly 
to  her  master. 

"  Thou  art  a  lady,  and  thou  art  afraid," 
said  the  Major,  addressing  her.  "  Take 
courage  !  Thou  art  not  so  faint-hearted. 
Come!  so  —  so  —  get  up  into  my  lap. 
Clean  enough,  clean  enough,"  he  said, 
smilingly,  as  the  dog  licked  his  hand. 

And  from  the  midst  of  his  anguish,  the 
Major  was  already  pleasing  himself  with 
the  thought,  how,  in  a  few  days,  in  the 
quiet  arbor  in  his  garden,  he  will  teil  Fräu- 
lein Milch  of  the  imminent  peril.  He 
caressed  Laadi,  and  rehearsed  to  himself 
the  whole  story  of  the  impending  danger. 

They  arrived  at  the  station  where  the 
road  branches  off  to  the  university-town. 
Here  they  are  told  that  no  extra  train  could 
be  furnished,  as  there  was  only  one  track. 
They  must  wait  an  hour  for  the  next  regu- 
lar train. 

Sonnenkamp  stormed  and  scolded  over 
these  dawdling  Europeans,  who  did  not 
know  how  to  put  a  railroad  to  its  proper 
use ;  he  had  arranged,  indeed,  by  telegram 
for  a  clear  track.  But  it  was  of  no  use. 
The  Major  stood  at  the  station,  and  thanked 
the  Builder  of  all  the  worlds  that  all  was 
so  unalterably  fixed.  He  went  away  from 
the  river,  and  saluted  the  cornfields,  where 
the  standing  corn,  in  its  silent  growth, 
allowed  itself  to  be  in  no  way  disturbed 
out  of  its  orderly  repose ;  he  rejoiced  to 
hear,  for  the  first  time  this  season,  the 
whistling  of  the  quail,  who  has  no  home  in 
the  vineyard  region ;  and  he  gazed  at  the 
larks  singing  as  they  flew  up  to  heaven. 

A  train  had  come  into  the  station  and 
stopped.  The  Major  heard  men's  voices 
singing  finely,  and  he  learned  that  many 


148 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


persons,  who  wore  already  seated  in  the 
cars,  were  emigrating  to  America.  He 
saw  mothers  weeping,  fathers  beckoning, 
and  while  the  locomotive  was  puffing  at  the 
station,  many  village  youths  stood  on  the 
platform  together,  in  a  group,  and  sang 
farewell  songs  to  their  departing  comrades. 
They  sang  with  voices  full  of  emotion,  but 
they  kept  good  time. 

'*  It  will  rejoice  Fräulein  Milch  when  I 
relate  this  to  her,"  thought  the  Major, 
and  he  mingled  among  those  who  remained 
behind,  giving  them  words  of  consolation ; 
he  went  to  the  emigrants  and  exhorted  them 
to  continue  good  Germans  in  America.  In 
the  midst  of  his  weeping,  an  old  man 
cried  :  — 

"  What  are  you  waiting  for?  make  it  go 
ahead !  " 

The  rest  scolded  the  man  for  his  rude- 
ness, but  the  Major  said,  — 

"Don't  take  it  ill  of  him,  he  cannot  do 
differently,  he  is  too  miserable."  The  old 
man  nodded  to  the  Major,  and  all  the  rest 
looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

In  the  mean  while,  the  train  arrived  which 
was  to  carry  those  going  on  the  branch 
road. 

"Herr  Major!  Herr  Major!"  shrieked 
the  employes  of  the  road  from  various  quar- 
ters. They  had  great  difficulty  in  bringing 
the  Major  over  to  the  other  side  of  the 
train. 

"  One  might  almost  envy  you,  you  are 
such  a  child  ;  you  allow  yourself  to  be  dis- 
tracted by  every  occurrence  on  the  way, 
and  to  be  drawn  away  from  your  destina- 
tion like  a  child." 

"  Yes,  yes,11  laughed  the  Major  —  he  had 
recovered  his  broad  laugh  — "Fraulein 
Milch  often  tells  me  that.11" 

He  told  Sonnenkamp  of  the  affecting 
parting  of  the  emigrants  and  their  friends, 
but  Sonnenkamp  seemed  to  have  no  inter- 
est in  it.  Even  when  the  Major  said  that 
the  Freemasons  had  taken  all  pains  to 
block  the  game  of  the  kidnappers  who 
cheated  the  emigrants,  even  then,  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  remained  speechless.  The 
Major  sat  by  him  in  silence. 

They  reached  the  university-town.  No 
one  was  there  to  receive  them,  and 
Sonnenkamp  was  very  indignant. 

The  family  of  the  professor's  wife  were  at 
breakfast.  Roland  drank  his  coffee  out  of 
the  cup  which  had  Hermann's  name  upon 
it,  and  Eric  said  that  they  must  be  at  the 
station  in  an  hour,  since  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
would  probably  come  by  the  express  train: 
it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  would 
come  by  the  accommodation  train,  which 
had  no  connection  with  the  West.    Just  as 


Eric  was  saying  this,  there  was  -a  knock; 
the  Major  walked  in  first,  and  after  him, 
Sonnenkamp. 

"  Here  is  our  devil  of  a  boy  !  "  cried  the 
Major.    "  Here  is  the  deserter  himself!  " 

The  awkwardness  of  the  first  interview 
was  thus  removed.  Roland  sat  immovable 
upon  his  chair ;  Eric  went  to  meet  Sonnen- 
kamp :  he  turned  then  to  the  boy,  and  or- 
dered him  to  ask  his  father's  forgiveness 
for  what  he  had  done.    Roland  complied. 

The  mother  prayed  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
not  to  punish  the  boy  for  his  wilfulness. 
His  father  replied,  good-humoredly,  that, 
on  the  contrary,  this  bold  stroke  of  the  boy 
gave  him  particular  delight ;  he  showed 
courage,  resolution,  and  self-guidance :  he 
would  rather  reward  him  for  it.  Roland 
looked  at  his  father  in  amazement,  then 
grasped  his  hand  and  held  it  fast. 

Eric  requested  his  mother  and  aunt  to 
retire  with  Roland  to  the  study,  and  he  re- 
mained with  the  Major  and  Sonnenkamp. 
Sonnenkamp  expressed  his  satisfaction  and 
gratitude  to  Eric,  who  must  certainly  be 
familiar  with  magic,  to  have  so  bewitched 
his  son  that  he  could  not  live  apart  from 
him. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  Eric  asked.  "I 
must  express  to  you  my  astonishment." 

"  Your  astonishment  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  have,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  no 
talent  at  all  of  that  sort,  but  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  say  that  I  almost  envy  those  who 
can  accomplish  such  things." 

Sonnenkamp  looked  inquiringly  at  Eric, 
who  continued :  — 

"It  is  a  master-stroke  of  pedagogical 
science  that  you  have  effected.  I  see  now 
that  you  have  declined  my  service  in  Ro- 
land^ hearing,  in  order  to  induce  him  to 
act  from  his  own  free-will ;  this  will  bring 
him  under  my  influence  as  nothing  else 
would  be  likely  to  do." 

Sonnenkamp  looked  amazed.  Is  this 
man  making  fun  of  him?  Does  he  wish  to 
ridicule  him,  or,  by  means  of  this  refined 
policy,  to  get  the  better  of  him  still  far- 
ther? This  would  be  a  touch  of  diplomacy 
of  the  highest  order.  Pranken  is  probably 
right,  and  Eric  is  a  wily  trickster  under  the 
mask  of  honest  plainness.  Well,  let  it  be 
so.  Sonnenkamp  whistled  to  himself  in  his 
inaudible  way ;  he  would  appear  not  to  see 
through  Eric.  He  let  it  be  understood  that 
he  had  played  a  nice  game  with  Roland, 
and  he  smiled  when  the  Major  cried  :  — 

"  Frauleiri  Milch  saidso  —  ye§,  she  under- 
stand everybody,  and  she  has  said,* — Herr 
Eric,  he  is  the  man  who  sees  clear  through 
Herr  Sonnenkamp's  policy.  Yes,  yes,  that 
is  a  whole  extra  train  of  smartness." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


149 


Sonnenkamp  continued  smiling  depreca- 
tingly  and  gratefully,  but  his  astonish- 
ment was  renewed,  when  Eric  now  made 
the  declaration,  — 

"  Unfortunately,  life  itself  is  so  self- 
willed,  that,  the  best-laid  logical  chain  is  cut 
in  two ;  I  find  myself  obliged,  on  my  part, 
to  decline  positively  your  friendly  offer." 

Sonnenkamp  again  whistled  inaudibly. 

Another  stroke  of  diplomacy,  then  !  He 
could  not  grasp  him ;  the  antagonist  has 
enticed  his  foe  out  of  his  stronghold ; 
Sonnenkamp  joined  battle  in  the  open  field. 
Eric  related  that  he  had  the  offer  of  acting 
director  in  the  Cabinet  of  Antiquities,  with 
the  promise  of  a  permanent  appointment. 

"  That's  it,"  nodded  the  Major  to  him- 
self, "that's  it,  screw  him,  make  terms  for 
yourself,  as  a  singer  does  who  is  in  de- 
mand ;  you  can  have  your  own  price,  they 
must  give  you  all  you  ask." 

But  the  Major's  look  suddenly  changed, 
when  Eric  continued,  — 

"  From  your  practical  American  stand- 
point you  would  certainly  approve  of  my 
refusal,  if  that  were  necessary,  in  order  to 
attain  higher  conditions,  whether  internal 
or  external,  of  my  own  freedom.  But  I  tell 
you  frankly,  that  I  have  no  motive  for  this 
refusal,  except  the  duty  of  gratitude  towards 
my  patron." 

Sonnenkamp  answered,  assentingly,  — 

"I  am  very  far  from  desiring  to  interfere 
at  all  with  your  plan  of  life.  I  regret  to  be 
obliged  to  give  it  up,  but  I  give  it  up." 

"  Yes,"  interposed  the  Major,  "  you  give 
it  up,  and  he  declines.  That's  no  go.  The 
youth,  what  is  he  going  to  do  ?  What  be- 
comes of  him  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp  and  Eric  regarded  the  Ma- 
jor in  silence,  who  uttered  the  decisive 
words,  —  "  What  becomes  of  Roland  ?  " 

Eric  was  the  first  to  collect  himself,  and 
requested  that  Sonnenkamp  would  commit 
his  son  to  hi  in  for  a  year  at  the  capital ;  for 
he  himself  must  acknowledge  that  he  should 
no  longer  be  happy  or  at  rest,  until  he  could 
expend  his  best  energies  for  the  boy,  in 
order  to  establish  him  in  a  noble  career  in 
life ;  and  that  it  would  be  the  best  plan  for 
Roland  also  to  be' brought  up  in  the  com- 
panionship of  others,  and  he  would  see  to  it 
that  he  had  good  companions. 

Sonnenkamp  pressed  his  fingers  to  his 
lips,  and  then  said,  — 

"  Such  a  plan  cannot  be  talked  of  for  a 
moment;  my  breath  is  gone,  when  I  know 
that  the  child  is  away  from  me.  I  must 
therefore  beseech  you,  not  a  word  of  this." 

He  now  requested  the  Major  to  leave  him 
alone  with  the  Captain. 


The  Major  complied  at  once,  and  did  not 
take  it  at  all  amiss,  that  Sonnenkamp  dis- 
posed of  him  so  readily. 

And  now  that  they  wete  alone,  Sonnen- 
kamp said,  rubbing  his  chin  repeatedly,  — 

"  I  see  clearly  the  difficulty  of  consigning 
Roland  to  any  one  but  you  ;  I  have  already 
dismissed  the  man  who  was  employed  by 
me.  But  now,  one  question.  Were  you 
not,  voluntarily,  employed  in  the  House  of 
Correction  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask,  since  the  asking  tells 
me  that,  you  already  know  ?  " 

"  And  do  you  think  that  you  can  now  be 
Roland's  preceptor  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  Do  you  think  that  it  will  not  revolt  the 
boy,  or  at  least  deeply  wound  him,  when 
he  shall  at  some  time  learn  by  chance,  that 
he  is  under  a  man  who  has  had  the  manage- 
ment of  convicts  ?  " 

"  Roland  will  not  learn  this  by  chance. 
I  shall  tell  him  myself,  and  he  will  have  un- 
derstanding enough  to  perceive  that  this  is 
no  degradation  of  my  personal  worth,  but  — 
I  say  it  with  all  modesty  —  an  exaltation  of 
it.  With  my  own  free  will,  and  holding  an 
honorable  position,  I  desired  to  devote  my- 
self to  my  fallen  fellow-men  ;  and  I  can  only 
regret  that  I  must  acknowledge  myself  to 
have  no  talent  for  this.  I  am  of  the  con- 
viction that  every  man,  whatever  he  has 
done,  can  become  once  more  pure  and 
noble ;  I  was  not  able,  unfortunately,  in 
that  position,  to  carry  out  my  conviction." 

Sonnenkamp  listened,  with  closed  eyes ; 
he  nodded,  and  thought  that  he  must  say 
something  laudatory  to  Eric,  but  he  did  not 
seem  able  to  bring  it  out. 

At  last  he  said,  — 

"I  have  introduced  this  matter  only  to 
show  you  that  I  keep  nothing  in  reserve ; 
we  are  now,  I  hope,  of  one  mind.  Might  I 
ask  you  to  call  the  Major,  and  let  me  join 
the  ladies  ?  " 

The  Major  came,  and  when  Eric  was 
alone  with  him,  naturally  related  first  of  all 
the  terrors  of  the  extra  train,  and  that  the 
clattering  was  no  longer  a  perceptible  beat, 
but  one  continued  rumble.  He  knew  how 
to  imitate  it  very  exactly,  and  to  give  the 
precise  difference  of  sound  when  going  by 
the  stations,  and  the  mountains,  and  over 
the  dikes. 

Eric  could  have  replied  that  he  was  ac- . 
curately  acquainted  with  the  road ;  he  had 
gone  over  it  a  few  days  before,  without 
speaking  a  word,  engaged  in  his  own  medi- 
tations, but  the  Major  did  not  suffer  him- 
self to  be  interrupted ;  he  asserted  that  no 
one  had  evei  before  so  rode,  and  no  one 


150 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


would  ever  ride  so  again,  so  long  as  Europe 
had  its  iron  rails,  for  Sonnenkamp  had  fired 
up  after  the  American  fashion. 
Then  he  said, 

"  I  have  come  to  know  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
very  thoroughly,  since  his  son  went  away. 
I  have,  indeed,  no  son,  and  cannot  enter 
completely  into  his  way  of  expressing  him- 
self, but  such  lamentation,  such  reproaches 
against  himself,  such  raving,  such  cursing, 
—  our  hardest  corporal  is  a  tender  nun  in 
comparison  —  such  words  he  brought  out. 
It  must  truly  be  a  fact !  In  countries  where 
good  tobacco  grows,  and  snakes  and  par- 
rots, Fräulein  Milch  has  said,  there  the 
soil  of  men's  hearts  is  much  hotter,  and 
there  things  grow  up,  and  creatures  creep 
out  and  fly  about,  such  as  we  have  no  sort 
of  idea  about.  And  how  Frau  Ceres  car- 
ried on,  I'll  not  speak  of. 

"  But  you  know  who  first  told  where  the 
youth  is  ?  Fraulein  Milch  told  it.  And  do 
you  know  what  she  said  ?  1  If  I  were  a  young 
girl,  I  would  run  after  Herr  Eric  too,  over 
mountain  and  valley.'  That  is  to  say,  she 
has  said  that  in  all  honor ;  she  has  never 
loved  any  one  but  me,  and  we  have  known 
each  other  now  for  nine  and  forty  years, 
and  that  is  something.  But  why  do  we 
speak  of  such  things  now?  we  shall  have 
time  enough  for  this  by  and  by.  You  are 
right,  you  are  smarter  than  I  thought  for ; 
it  is  shrewd  in  you  not  to  make  terms  at 
once.  Now  he  has  come  to  you,  into  the 
house,  you  can  make  whatever  conditions 
you  want  to.  In  his  raving  he  cried, — A 
million  to  him  who  restores  my  son  to  me ! 
You  can  claim  the  million,  it  belongs  to  you  ; 
I  am  witness  of  that." 

Eric  declared  that  he  was  irresistibly  at- 
tracted towards  the  boy,  but  that  he  could 
not  come  to  terms,  for  it  would  be  the 
highest  kind  of  ingratitude  if  he  should  de- 
cline the  position  that  had  been  offered  to 
him  in  such  a  friendly  way,  and  of  which  a 
report  had  certainly  been  made,  before  this 
time,  to  the  Prince. 

In  what  light  would  he  stand  with  his 
patron,  and  with  the  Prince,  who  had,  be- 
sides, grounds  of  displeasure  with  him,  if  he 
should  now  say,  "Thank  you  kindly;  I 
have,  in  the  mean  while,  made  a  previ- 
ous engagement  elsewhere  "  ?  The  Major 
drummed  with  the  fore  and  middle  fingers 
of  his  right  hand  rapidly  upon  the  table,  as 
if  his  fingers  were  drumsticks. 

"  Bad,  very  bad,"  he  said.  "  Yes,  yes, 
fate  often  takes  an  extra  train  too;'  every- 
thing has  an  extra  train  now-a-days." 

Eric  said,  in  addition,  that  service  to  an 
individual  had  its  difficulty ;  he  might  per- 
haps be  able  to  consent  to  appear  ungrate- 


ful, and  forfeit  forever  all  favor,  but  he 
feared  lest,  in  the  dependent  servitude  to 
the  rich  man,  he  might  often  be  troubled 
with  the  thought  how  much  more  free  he 
might  have  been  in  the  service  of  the  State. 

The  Major  continued  to  drum  and  drum, 
repeating  the  words,  — 

"  Bad  —  very  bad  ! " 

He  uttered  the  words  so  oddly,  that  it 
sounded  like  a  crow,  in  the  freshly-turned 
furrow,  gulping  down  an  earthworm. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
WE  HAVE  HIM. 

While  the  Major  and  Eric  were  silting 
together,  Sonnenkamp  was  with  the  mother 
in  the  library ;  Roland  and  the  aunt,  in  the 
recess,  had  a  great  book  open  before  them, 
containing  outline  drawings  of  Greek  sculp- 
ture. 

The  boy  now  looked  up  and  cried,  —  • 

"  Father,  only  think  that  Herr  Eric  must 
sell  this  fine  library  of  his  father's,  and 
there  is  not  a  single  leaf  here  that  his  father 
has  not  written  on,  and  it  must  go  now  into 
the  hands  of  strangers." 

"  It  would  be  a  favor  to  me,"  said  Son- 
nenkamp, turning  to  the  aunt,  "  if  you,  gra- 
cious Fräulein,  would  take  my  son  out  to 
walk;  I  have  something  to  say  to  Frau 
Dournay." 

Roland  went  away  with  the  aunt. 

Sonnenkamp  now  asked  the  professor's 
wife  if  what  Roland  had  stated  were  true. 

She  replied  in  the  affirmative,  adding 
that  the  danger  was  over,  as  Count  Wolfs- 
garten  had  furnished  the  required  sum  of 
money. 

When  Sonnenkamp  heard  the  name  and 
the  amount,  a  surprising  transformation 
seemed  to  take  place  in  him.  He  said  that 
he  allowed  no  one  the  privilege  of  helping 
Eric  in  money-matters ;  he  claimed  that  as 
exclusively  his  own.  And  now,  having  once 
begun  to  be  beneficent,  a  new  strength 
seemed  to  be  unfolded  in  him ;  he  consid- 
ered himself  very  fortunate  in  being  per- 
mitted to  render  assistance  to  such  an  ex- 
cellent family,  even  if  Eric  should  not  re- 
main with  him. 

The  professor's  widow  could  not  refrain 
from  confessing  that  it  required  great 
strength  of  soul  to  receive  favors,  and  that 
her  family  were  not  accustomed  to  it.  She 
spoke  of  her  son. 

"He  is  a  child  in  feeling,"  she  said, 
"  without  anything  false,  incapable  of  any 
indirection,  a  strong,  steadfast,  sincere, 
manly,  and  noble  character.  I  ought  not,  as 
his  mother,  to  say  this,  but  I  can  only  con- 
gratulate you.    You  can  entrust  to  him 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


that  which  you  value  most,  as  the  precious 
jewel  of  your  life,  and  I  tell  you  that  who- 
ever loves  Eric  has  a  heaven  in  his  heart, 
and  whoever  does  not  love  him  is  without  a 
heart." 

Sonnenkamp  rose,  drawing  a  deep  breath  ; 
he  would  have  liked  to  say,  How  happy  was 
that  man  who  could  call  this  woman  mother ; 
but  he  restrained  himself.  He  stood  before 
the  flower-stand,  which  was  artistically  ar- 
ranged, by  an  invisible  contrivance,,  in  a 
pyramidal  shape,  and  all  so  well  cared  for 
and  ordered,  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  be- 
hold it.  He  led  the  conversation  to  botany  ; 
Eric  had  informed  him  that  his  mother  had  a 
knowledge  of  it,  and  he  was  happy  to  meet 
in  her  an  associate  in  his  special  pursuit  — 
for  he  considered  botany  his  specialty. 

He  turned  the  conversation,  aptly  and 
sympathizingly,  to  the  lady's  past  history. 
He  asked  first,  whether  she  would  not  take 
pleasure  in  coming,  at  some  time,  to  the 
Rhine. 

She  replied  that  she  should  like  much  to 
do  so,  and  that  she  had  a  special  desire  to 
see  once  more,  before  she  died,  a  friend  of 
her  youth,  the  present  Superior  of  the  island- 
convent,  and  principal  of  the  seminary. 

"  Are  you  so  intimate  with  the  Superior  ?  " 
said  Sonnenkamp,  and  something  occurred 
to  him  which  he  could  not  make  clear  to 
himself,  but  he  evidently  impressed  it  upon 
himself  to  reserve  this  for  further  considera- 
tion. He  smiled  in  a  very  friendly  manner, 
when  the  lady  dwelt  at  length,  in  a  pleasant 
way,  upon  the  strangeness  of  life.  There 
sits  a  lady  in  her  cage,  and  here  another  has 
her  nest  in  a  little  garden,  and  they  cannot 
come  to  each  other.  The  older  one  be- 
comes, indeed,  so  much  the  more  enigmati- 
cal seem  often  the  interwoven  threads  of 
human  relations  in  the  world. 

She  added,  gently  closing  her  eyes,  that 
it  had  seemed  so  only  since  the  death  of  her 
husband,  for  she  had  been  able  to  say  every- 
thing to  him,  and  he  had  unfolded  clearly 
and  harmoniously  what  seemed  to  her  a  con- 
fused puzzle. 

Sonnenkamp  experienced  something  like 
a  feeling  of  devotion,  as  the  wife  said  this. 

She  made  mention  now  of  her  life  as  a 
lady  of  the  court,  and  her  eyes  glistened 
while  speaking  of  the  Princess  dowager. 

"  I  had  not  only  the  happiness  and  the 
honor,"  she  said,  "  to  visit  and  oversee  with 
her,  and  yet  oftener  in  her  name  and  by  her 
order,  the  many  various  institutions  of  be- 
neficence of  which  her  highness  was  the  pro- 
tectress, but  I  had  the  yet  more  important 
and  often  more  melancholy,  though  blessed 
ar.d  refreshing  duty,  to  visit  those,  or  to 
institute  inquiries  concerning  those,  who  ap- 


151 

plied  to  the  Princess  for  assistance,  often 
with  heartrending  cries  for  help.  The  greater 
part  of  the  letters  were  entrusted  to  me,  eith- 
er to  bring  in  a  report  concerning  them,  or  to 
answer  them.  This  was  a  sad,  but,  as  I 
said  before,  a  blessed  and  an  ennobling  ser- 
vice." 

While  the  lady  was  thus  speaking,  plac- 
ing at  the  same  time  her  delicate,  soft 
hand  upon  her  heart,  as  if  she  must  re- 
press the  overflowing  feelings  of  this  recol- 
lection, her  whole  countenance  was  illumi- 
nated by  an  inexpressible  tenderness. 

Sonnenkamp  rose  suddenly,  as  if  some 
irresistible  power  had  called  to  him,  and 
there  was  deep  feeling  in  his  voice,  as  he 
said,  — 

"  Might  I  be  allowed,  noble  lady,  to 
offer  you  a  compensation,  if  you  will  be 
induced  to  live  in  our  neighborhood  ?  I 
am  no  prince,  but  I  am,  perhaps,  as  much 
overrun  with  begging  letters.  Our  good 
Major  frequently  helps  me  in  instituting 
inquiries.  But  you,  honored  lady,  could 
render  much  more  effectual  service  in  this 
matter  ;  and  even  if  one  cannot  render  as- 
sistance in  every  case,  it  is  always  a  con- 
solation to  the  poor  to  receive  at  least  a 
friendly  answer,  and  your  look  is  radiant 
with  a  mother's  blessing." 

It  was  an  hour  in  which  Sonnenkamp  ex- 
perienced a  blessedness  such  as  he  thought 
himself  wholly  incapable  of  receiving,  and 
his  fixed  purpose  was,  — 

"  This  must  be  ;  here  is  the  starting-point 
in  life  which  you  have  so  long  desired,  and 
all  the  past  is  annihilated." 

Sonnenkamp  had  formed  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent notion  of  the  professor's  widow  and 
her  sister-in-law.  He  saw  in  Eric's  mother 
a  stately  lady  of  fine  mind  and  high-bred 
manners ;  she  was  pale,  and  this  paleness 
was  very  much  increased  by  her  black  cap 
and  her  mourning  dress. 

The  aunt  seemed  to  him  still  handsomer. 

It  was  a  peculiar  gesture  that  Sonnen- 
kamp made  in  the  air ;  it  was  as  if  he 
seized  hold  of  the  two  ladies  :  for  he  men- 
tally transplanted  them  to  his  splendid 
rooms,  where  they  did  the  honors  of  the 
house,  adorning  his  house,  and  his  house 
adorning  them,  and  when  company  were 
present  a  whist-table  was  formed,  as  a 
matter  of  Course. 

Sonnenkamp  was  obliged  to  restrain 
himself  from  asking  the  ladies  at  once 
whether  they  played  whist,  and  with  the 
consciousness  that  he  was  thinking  about 
it,  and  with  the  exertion  of  self-control 
necessary  to  keep  it  to  himself,  his  counte- 
nance assumed  a  variety  of  expressions. 

During   the  conversation   Roland  had 


152 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  TH^  RHINE. 


left  the  room,  holding  the  aunt's  hand ;  he 
now  came  in  with  Eric  and  the  Major, 
holding  in  his  hand  a  large  letter  with  the 
seal  of  the  ministry  of  education. 
Roland  said,  — 

"  I  beseech  you,  aunt,  let  me  speak." 

All  were  surprised  at  the  appearance  of 
the  boy,  who  now  said,  holding  up  the  let- 
ter, — 

"  The  aunt  has  confided  to  me,  that  here 
is  the  decree  appointing  you  to  be  director 
for  the  keeping  of  the  beautiful  bronze  and 
marble  statues  of  antiquity.  Eric,  I  am 
not  made  of  bronze  or  marble,  and  when 
you  are  there  among  those  figures  it  will 
freeze  you,  and  it  will  also  freeze  me  for- 
ever, if  you  abandon  me.  Eric,  don't  do 
it ;  don't  do  it  to  yourself,  or  to  me.  Stay 
with  me,  I  will  stay  with  thee.  I  beseech 
you,  Eric,  do  not  leave  me;  I  am  not 
plaster.  I  am  not  marble;  do  not  leave 
me.  I  beseech  thee,  Eric,  do  not  forsake 
me  —  do  not  forsake  me." 

All  were  thrilled  by  this  scene,  and 
while  the  boy  was  speaking  thus,  the 
Major  said  in  a  low  tone,  — 

"This  is  no  child.  What  can  it  be? 
The  lad  speaks  just  as  if  a  holy  spirit  pos- 
sessed him  !  " 

Eric  went  to  Roland,  raised  him  in  his 
strong  arms,  held  him  high  up,  and 
said,  — 

"Roland,  as  I  hold  you  now,  and  you 
hold  me,  so  hold  fast  to  me  with  all  the 
strength  of  your  life  !  We  will  together 
grow  into  something  great;  here  is  my 
hand." 

The  letter  was  forgotten.  The  mother 
begged  to  be  permitted  to  open  it,  and  she 
had  hardly  run  it  over,  when  she  cried  with 
a  lightened  heart,  — 

"  Thank  God,  Eric,  you  need  not  be 
ungrateful." 

The  letter  contained  an  expression  of 
regret  that  the  place  had  been  already 
given  to  a  young  man  of  the  nobility,  who 
had  shown  himself  unfitted  for  a  diplomatic 
post. 

Sonnenkamp  requested  them  to  let  him 
have  the  letter ;  he  '  might  perhaps  make 
use  of  it  as  a  documemt  against  Eric's  en- 
emies, who  charged  him  with  being  in  ill- 
favor  at  court.  And  now  he  desired  that 
mother  and  aunt  would  remove  at  once  to 
Villa  Eden ;  but  Eric  answered  positively 
in  the  negative.  He  himself  agreed  to  go, 
but  his  mother  and  aunt  could  not  before 
the  autumn ;  he  must  first  become  initia- 
ted, with  Roland  alone,  into  the  family 
life. 

No  one  was  happier,  that  everything  had 
turned  out  so  well,  than  the  Major.    It  was 


decided  to  start  to-day.  The  Major  prom- 
ised that  he  and  Fräulein  Milch  would  help 
the  mother  and  aunt  in  all  the  arrange- 
ments, when  they  removed  later  in  the 
season ;  nothing  else  would  do,  as  Fräulein 
Milch  must  be  consulted  in  everything. 
He  now  requested  k  ave  of  absence  for  an 
hour,  to  visit  friends  in  the  university- 
town,  whom  he  did  not  know  personally. 

After  the  Major  had  gone,  Sonnenkamp 
said,  in  a  kindly  tone  of  patronage,  that  the 
Major  probably  had  some  brother  Free- 
masons to  visit.  Eric  also  asked  to  be  ex- 
cused, as  he  hacj  yet  to  take  leave  of  one 
man. 

He  went  to  see  Professor  Einsiedel. 
The  Professor  was  always  uniformly  ready 
for  every  friendly  call,  but  as  uniformly 
angry,  if,  forgetting  the  hour  of  his  lecture, 
any  one  came  during  the  half  hour  previ- 
ous ;  he  could  be  very  angry.  His  anger 
consisted  in  saying,  — 

"But,  dear  friend!  how  could  you  for- 
get this  ?  You  must  surely  know  that  I 
have  a  lecture  at  two  o'clock,  and  can  now 
see  no  one.  No,  I  must  beg  you  very  ear- 
nestly —  very  —  very  —  very  earnestly  beg 
you  to  note  my  lecture-hour." 

And  while  saying  this,  he  pressed  one's 
hand  with  great  good-nature. 

When  Eric  said  that  it  would  be  of  no 
service  for  him  to  note  this  for  the  future, 
as  he  was  going  to  leave  town  to-day,  Ein- 
siedel requested  to  be  informed  of  the  hour 
when  the  train  left ;  perhaps  he  would  then 
meet  him,  but  he  would  not  make  a  definite 
promise,  for  if  he  did,  it  would  disturb  him 
in  the  delivery  of  his  lecture. 

Eric  left  him.  The  Professor  went  with 
him  to  the  door,  took  off  his  black  cap,  and 
excused  himself  for  not  accompanying  him 
down  the  steps.  "I  beg  earnestly  —  very 
—  I  lecture  at  two,"  he  turned  back  into 
his  study.  Eric  was  sure  that  the  Professor 
would  see  him  again. 

The  whole  town  lifted  up  their  eyes,  as 
the  six  persons  were  going  to  the  station. 
Sonnenkamp  escorted  Frau  Dournay,  the 
Major  the  aunt,  and  Eric  held  Roland  by 
the  hand.  They  had  to  wait  for  the  train 
to  come  in.  Suddenly  Professor  Einsiedel 
made  his  appearance ;  and  it  was  a  great 
deal  for  the  slender  little  man  to  do,  as  it 
interrupted  the  regular  order  of  the  day. 

Eric  introduced  the  Major  and  Sonnen- 
kamp. Sonnenkamp  had  no  special  word 
to  say  to  him,  and  the  Major,  notwithstand- 
ing his  kind  feelings  towards  everybody, 
could  not  find  just  the  right  friendly  ex- 
pressions with  which  to  address  this  delicate, 
feeble-looking  person,  when  Eric  introduced 
him  as  his  teacher  and  master.    Roland,  on 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


153 


the  contrary,  with  hearty  pleasure  seized 
the  hand  of  the  little  man,  soft  as  a  child's, 
and  said,  — 

"Do  you  know  how  you  seem  to  me? 
You  are  my  grand-teacher ;  for  Herr  Eric 
is  my  teacher,  and  you  are  his  teacher,  and 
so  you  are  my  grand-teacher ;  and  if  you 
want  a  dog,  I  will  send  a  dog  to  you." 

Professor  Einsiedel  quoted  some  Greek 
words  out  of  Plato  to  Eric,  which  expressed 
the  joy  one  feels  in  a  beautiful  animated 
youth  ;  then  he  patted  the  boy  on  the  shoul- 
der, thanked  him  for  the  offer  of  the  dog, 
and  said  that  as  he  did  not  like  to  bid  good- 
bye in  the  rush,  he  would  now  bid  them  fare- 
well before  the  train  arrived.  He  consid- 
ered that  those  who  were  waiting  at  the 
station  had  already  started  on  their  journey, 
and  taking  Eric  aside,  he  said  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  emotion,  — 

"You  are  well  enough  off,  and  you  must 
also  marry,  for  the  apostle  Paul  says,  'Who- 
ever careth  for  the  things  that  are  of  the 
world  ought  to  marry.1 "  He  requested 
him  to  write  more  particularly  concerning 
Clodwig's  antiquities,  then  shook  him  by 
the  hand.  Roland  also  extended  his  hand 
to  the  professor. 

Eric  looked  after  the  little  man  going 
away,  who  was  in  his  eyes  a  walking  temple 
of  the  spirit  of  wisdom ;  and  the  good  lit- 
tle man  rubbed  his  tender  hand  on  his  coat, 
for  Roland  had  pressed  it  a  Httle  too  hard. 

The  train  came  thundering  in.  The 
leave-taking  was  hurried.  Roland  kissed 
repeatedly  the  mother  and  aunt,  and  Son- 
nenkamp kissed  the  mother's  hand. 

His  mother  said  in  a  low  tone  to  Eric  on 
taking  leave,  — 

"  You  are  forsaking  me.  I  am  at  rest,  I 
know  you  are  not  forsaking  yourself,  and 
so  you  are  still  with  me.  Go,  then ;  hold 
thyself  within  thyself,  and  me  in  thee,  and 
it  will  be  well  with  thee,  and  well  with  me.11 

In  the  railway-car  the  Major  bent  towards 
Eric  and  whispered,  — 

"  I  have  learned  something  about  your 
father." 

"  What  is  it?" 

"  Something  good  for  you  and  for  me. 
Your  father,  who  has  gone  to  the  eternal 
home,  belonged  to  our  brotherhood.  It  is 
your  right  to  claim  assistance,  and  my  duty 


to  give  it.  I  only  beg  that  you  will  never 
thank  me  ;  we  are  not  allowed  to  thank  one 
another." 

At  the  first  station  the  Major  took  Eric 
aside,  and  asked  him  whether  he  had  made 
a  positive  agreement  as  to  salary,  indemni- 
fication at  dismissal,  and  pension  after  the 
completion  of  the  tutorship.  Eric  treated 
the  subject  with  indifference,  and  the  Major 
gave  him  to  understand  that^he  had  full 
power  to  grant  all  his  demands.  He  ad- 
vised Eric  to  strike  now  while  the  iron  was 
hot.  But  Eric  not  seeming  at  all  disposed 
to  take  up  with  the  advice,  the  Major  de- 
sisted, murmuring  to  himself,  — 

"Here  now,  Fräulein  Milch  is  always 
saying  that  I  am  not  practical;  and  here 
now  is  a  man  who  is  so  learned,  and  can 
turn  himself  round  and  face  about  seven 
times  before  I  can  get  up  on  my  feet,  and 
he  is  ever  so  much  less  practical  than  I  am." 

The  Major  was  almost  delighted  that  Eric 
was  so  unpractical ;  he  could  tell  Fräulein 
Milch  all  about  it. 

On  the  way  the  diamond  ring  was  re- 
deemed, and  Eric  said  to  Roland,  — 

"  Let  your  father  take  the  ring ;  I  would 
prefer  that  you  would  not  wear  a  ring  for 
the  future." 

Roland  gave  the  ring  to  his  father,  and 
the  Major  said,  humming  to  himself,  — 

"  He  has  him!  He  has  him  by  bit  and 
curb." 

It  was  evening  when  they  drove  by  the 
small  vine-covered  house.  Roland  pointed 
out  the  house  to  Eric  with  glistening  eyes," 
but  uttered  no  word.  They  drove  into  the 
grounds  of  Villa  Eden,  where  the  air  was 
laden  with  the  fragrance  of  roses,  for  all 
the  roses  in  Sonnenkamp's  garden  were  in 
fresh  bloom. 

"  We  have  it,"  cried  the  architect  from 
the  castle  to  the  Major,  as  he  was  getting 
I  out. 

"Have  what?" 

"  We  have  found  the  castle-spring." 

"  And  we  have  /urn,"  cried  the  Major, 
pointing  to  Eric. 

And  from  this  day,  the  Major  began 
many  of  his  stories  with  the  words,  — 

"  At  the  time  I  rode  with  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp in  the  extra  train." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  Ol  THE  MINE. 

I  part  n. 

* 


/ 


154 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


BOOK  V.     CHAPTER  I. 
HIGH  ABOVE. 

The  rosebuds  in  the  garden  bad  opened 
in  the  spring  night,  and  rare  flowers  blos- 
somed out  in  the  soul  of  the  youth. 

With  transcendent  delight,  Roland  wel- 
comed his  recovered  teacher  to  the  house, 
lie  went  in  high  spirits  to  his  mother's  room, 
but  she  was  so  exhausted  that  he  could  not 
see  her.  He  forgot  Fraulein  Perini's  dis- 
tant reserve  towards  him,  and  announced 
to  her  jubilantly,  that  Eric  was  there,  and 
would  now  remain ;  she  was  just  to  say  so 
to  his  mother. 

"  And  have  you  no  inquiries  to  make 
about  the  Chevalier?  " 

"No:  I  know  that  he  is  gone;  he  was 
not  with  me  even  when  he  was  here.  Ah, 
forgive  me,  I  don't  know  what  I  am  saying ! 
O,  why  does  not  the  whole  world  rejoice  ! 11 

Roland's  rejoicing  received  the  first  check 
when  Fräulein  Perini  said,  that  no  one  could 
estimate  correctly  the  inconsolable  distress 
which  his  mother  had  suffered  from  his 
flight. 

The  boy  stood  still,  but  he  felt  assured 
that  now  all  would  go  well ;  that  everybody 
must  now  be  well  and  strong. 

He  came  across  Joseph  in  the  court,  and 
joyfully  informed  him  that  he  now  was  ac- 
quainted with  his  native  city  ;  he  nodded  to 
all  the  servants,  he  greeted  the  horses,  the 
trees,  the  dogs ;  all  must  know  and  rejoice 
in  the  fact  that  Eric  was  here.  The  ser- 
vants looked  at  Roland  in  astonishment, 
and  Bertram,  the  coachman,  drew  his  long 
beard  through  the  fingers  of  both  hands,  and 
said,  — 

"  The  young  master  has  got,  during  these 
two  days,  a  man's  voice." 

Joseph  smilingly  added  :  — 

"Yes,  indeed,  a  single  day  at  the  Uni- 
versity has  made  him  a  different  being.  And 
what  a  being  !  " 

In  fact,  Roland  was  wholly  different.  He 
returned  to  his  home  as  from  a  voyage  ;  yes, 
even  as  from  another  world :  he  could  not 
comprehend  how  everything  should  appear 
so  changed,  illuminated  so  brightly ;  he  had 
been  alone  with  himself,  and  had  gained 
possession  of  himself  in  solitude. 

Eric  had  made  no  definite  agreement 
about  his  salary,  and  Sonnenkamp  said  to 
the  Major,  smiling  :  — 

"  These  enthusiastic  Idealists  have  a 
concealed  policy.  The  man  does  as  people 
do  when  they  are  invited  to  dinner ;  they 
let  themselves  be  served  by  the  host  and 
hostess  with  some  nice  dish,  and  so  receive 
a  larger  share  than  they  would  have  helped 
themselves  to." 


Eric  had  only  made  one  demand,  that  he 
should  inhabit  with  Roland  the  house-turret, 
remote  from  all  noise,  and  furnishing  an 
extensive  prospect.  This  was  granted,  and 
Eric  felt  himself  strangely  free  in  these 
handsome,  spacious  rooms,  with  their  out- 
look upon  the  river  and  the  landscape. 

How  confined  is  one's  life  in  those  small, 
close  apartments  of  the  University-town, 
and  yet  how  far  the  spirit  can  extend  itself 
beyond  that  narrow  enclosure  !  And  these 
carpets,  this  elegant  furniture,  how  soon 
will  it  become  an  ordinary  thing,  forgotten 
and  unconsidered,  like  the  wide  view  of  the 
landscape  !  It  seemed  to  Eric  as  free,  as 
inspiring,  and  as  commanding,  as  if — he 
himself  laughed  when  the  comparison  came 
into  his  mind  —  as  if  he  were  living  on 
horseback.  We  can  go  very  comfortably 
over  hill  and  vale,  with  a  light  walking- 
staff,  but  to  sit  on  horseback,  and  course 
away,  with  a  double,  triple  strength  united 
to  our  own,  and  elevating  us  above  the 
ordinary  level,  this  is  a  rare  exhilaration. 

Roland  came  to  Eric,  and  he  expressed  to 
the  boy  his  joy  at  the  beautiful  and  peaceful 
life  they  would  live  here ;  but  Roland 
begged : — 

"  Give  me  something  to  do,  something 
right  hard  ;  try  and  think  of  something." 

Eric  perceived  the  boy's  state  of  excite- 
ment ;  sitting  down  near  him,  he  took  his 
hand,  and  showed  him  that  life  seldom  fur- 
nished a  single  deed  on  which  one  could 
employ  the  whole  strength  of  his  voluntary 
powers ;  they  would  work  quietly  and 
steadily,  and  make  each  other  wiser  and 
better.  The  boy  was  contented,  and  looked 
at  Eric  as  if  he  would,  with  his  eyes,  draw 
him  into  his  soul,  and  make  him  his  own. 
Then  he  lightly  touched  Eric's  shoulder,  as 
if  to  be  newly  assured  that  he  was  really 
with  him. 

Now  they  put  things  in  order,  and  Ro- 
land was  glad  to  render  all  kinds  of  assist- 
ance. In  spite  of  his  former  deliberation, 
Eric  had  entered  upon  the  new  relation  so 
unexpectedly,  and  plunged  into  it  so  sud- 
denly, that  he  had  hardly  settled  upon  any- 
thing. Then  there  was  so  much  to  be  dis- 
cussed with  his  mother,  deciding  what  he 
would  take  with  him,  and  what  he  would 
leave  behind,  that  they  postponed  all  to  a 
future*  arrangement  by  letter. 

W^hen  temporary  order  was  established, 
Eric  complied  with  Roland's  request  to  go 
with  him  upon  the  platform  of  the  tower. 
They  sat  down  here,  and  looked  about,  for 
a  long  time,  in  every  direction.  Eric  could 
not  restrain  himself  from  telling  the  boy 
how  new  and  beautiful  all  life  appeared  to 
him.    They  had  formerly  built  castles  upon 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


155 


the  heights,  for  strife,  for  feuds,  and  for 
robbery  of  travellers  upon  the  highway ;  but 
we,  we  work  with  the  powers  of  nature,  we 
endeavor  to  gain  wealth,  and  then  we  with- 
draw, and  place  our  dwelling  upon  an  ele- 
vated site,  in  some  lovely  valley,  and  desire 
to  take  in  only  the  eternal  beauty,  which  no 
one  can  take  away.  The  great  river  be- 
comes a  highway,  along  which  industrious 
and  noble  men  erect  their  habitations.  The 
generations  after  us  will  be  obliged  to  say 
that,  at  this  time,  men  began  to  pay  loyal 
homage  to  nature,  as  had  never  before  been 
paid  in  the  history  of  humanity ;  this  is  a 
new  religion,  even  if  it  has  no  outward  form, 
and  shali  never  acquire  any. 

"  Go  on  speaking,  go  on,  on  further,"  said 
Roland,  nestling  up  to  Eric ;  he  could  not 
say  that  he  would  like  to  hear  just  the 
sound  of  his  voice ;  he  closed  his  eyes  and 
cried  again  :  "Go  on  speaking  ! 11 

Eric  understood  the  imploring  call,  and 
went  on  to  relate,  how,  when  he  stood 
for  the  first  time  upon  the  Righi,  looking  at 
the  setting  sun,  he  had  been  impressed  with 
the  thought  whether  there  might  not  be  some 
form,  some  service,  by  which  the  devo- 
tional feelings  of  these  assembled  specta- 
tors, in  this  temple  of  nature,  might  find 
expression.  He  had  learned  that  this  was 
impossible,  and  perhaps  was  not  needful : 
nature  imparts  to  each  one  a  joy  of  his  own, 
and  joy  in  nature  to  each  a  private  feel- 
ing of  devotion,  in  which  no  others  can 
share.  Then  extolling  the  happiness  of 
being  able  thus  in  one's  own  house,  on  a 
tower  erected  by  one's  self,  to  appropriate 
the  world,  and  the  beauty  of  the  earth,  he 
showed  how  wealth,  its  pursuit,  and  its 
possession  might  be  the  basis  of  a  grand 
moral  and  social  benefit.  Riches,  he  ex- 
plained, were  only  a  result  of  freedom,  of 
the  unfettered  employment  of  activities, 
and  must  have  only  freedom  as  their  result- 
ant product. 

Roland  was  happy ;  he  did  not  compre- 
hend the  whole,  but  he  felt,  for  the  first 
time,  that  wealth  was  neither  to  be  de- 
spised nor  to  be  gloried  in.  All  his  teach- 
ers, hitherto,  had  endeavored  to  impress 
upon  him  either  the  one  view  or  the  other. 

Joseph  came  to  the  tower,  and  asked 
whether  Eric  and  Roland  wished  to  dine 
together  in  their  room  ;  he  was  answered  in 
the  affirmative.  They  were  happy,  sitting 
together,  and  Roland  cried  : — 

"We  two  dwell  upon  an  island;  and  if 
I  ever  live  in  the  castle,  you  must  also  live 
with  me.  Do  you  know  what  one  thing 
more  I  want  ?  " 

"  How  !  you  want  one  thing  more  ?  " 

"Yes;  Manna   ought  to   be  with  us. 


Don't  you  think  she  is  now  thinking  of 
us?" 

"  Probably  not  of  me." 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  I  have  written  to  her  about 
you,  and  this  evening  I  am  going  to  write 
again,  and  tell  her  everything." 

Eric  was  puzzled,  for  a  moment :  he  did 
not  know  what  he  ought  to  do.  Ought  he 
to  restrain  the  boy  from  writing  about  him? 
There  was  no  reason  for  doing  so,  and  he 
would  not  disturb  Roland's  impartial  can- 
dor. 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  SPIRIT'S  VOICE  BY  NIGHT. 

Roland  was  writing  in  his  room,  and,  as 
he  wrote,  frequently  uttering  the  words 
aloud  to  himself.  Eric  sat  silent,  looking 
at  the  lamp.  What  was  the  use  now  of 
wishing  ?  He  stood  in  front  of  the  un- 
packed books ;  there  were  but  few.  Dur- 
ing the  last  fifteen  minutes  before  going  to 
the  train,  he  had  gone  once  more  into  his 
father's  study,  and  locked  up  the  papers 
left  by  him ;  glancing  his  eye  around  the 
library,  he  took  down  a  book,  the  first  vol- 
ume of  Sparks's  handsome  edition  of  the 
works  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  This  volume 
contained  the  autobiography  and  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  life.  Some  leaves  were  in- 
serted in  the  handwriting  of  his  father. 

And  now  he  read,  on  this  the  first  night 
of  his  new  occupation,  these  words,  — 

"Look  at  this!  Here  is  a  real  man, 
the  genius  of  sound  understanding  and  of 
steadfast  will.  Electricity  is  always  here 
in  the  atmosphere,  but  does  not  concen- 
trate-itself  and  become  visible  lightning. 

"This  is  genius.  Genius  is  nothing  but 
electricity  collected  in  the  atmosphere  of 
the  soul. 

"  With  this  book  a  man  would  not  be 
alone,  if  he  were  alone  on  an  island ;  he 
would  be  in  the  midst  of  the  world. 

"No  philosopher,  no  poet,  no  statesman, 
no  artisan,  no  member  of  the  learned  pro- 
fessions, and  yet  all  of  these  combined  in 
one ;  a  pet  son,  with  Nature  for  his  mother 
and  Experience  for  his  nurse ;  an  outcast 
son,  who,  without  scientific  guidance,  finds 
by  himself  all  medicinal  herbs  in  the  wild 
woods. 

"  If  I  had  a  youth  to  educate,  not  for  any 
special  calling,  but  that  he  might  become  a 
genuine  man  and  a  good  citizen,  I  would 
place  my  hands  upon  his  head  and  say, 
'  My  son,  become  like  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin —  no,  —  not  this  ;  develop  thine  own  be- 
ing, as  Benjamin  Franklin  developed  his.'  " 

Eric  rested  his  chin  upon  his  hand,  and 
gazed  out  into  the  darkness  of  the  night. 


156 


THE  C0UNT11Y-H0USE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


What  is  that  ?  Are  there  miracles  in 
our  life  ?  He  looked  to  the  right  and  to 
the  left,  as  if  he  must  have  heard  the  voice 
of  his  lather ;  as  if  he  had  not  written,  but 
was  speaking  the  words,  — My  son,  become 
like  Benjamin  Franklin  ! 

Eric,  with  great  effort,  continued  his 
reading :  — 

"It  is  indeed  well  for  us  to  form  our- 
selves alter  the  first  men  of  the  old  world, 
the  period  of  generative,  elementary  exist- 
ence ;  the  characters  of  the  Bible  and  of 
Homer  are  not  the  creations  of  a  single, 
highly  endowed  mind,  but, they  are  the  em- 
bodiments of  the  primitive,  national  spirit 
in  distinct  forms,  and  embrace  a  far  wider 
compass  than  the  span  of  individuul  exist- 
ence. 

"  Understand  me  well.  I  say,  I  know  in 
modern  history  no  other  man,  according  to 
whose  method  of  living  and  thinking  a  man 
of  our  day  can  form  himself,  except  Benja- 
min Franklin. 

"  Why  not  Washington,  who  was  so  great 
and  pure  ? 

"  Washington  was  a  soldier  and  a  states- 
man, but  he  was  not  an  original  discoverer 
of  the  world  within  himself,  and  an  un- 
földer  of  that  world  from  his  own  inner  be- 
ing. He  exerted  influence  by  ruling  and 
guiding  others ;  Franklin,  by  ruling  and 
guiding  himself. 

"  When  the  time  shall  ever  come,  and  it 
will  come,  that  battles  shall  be  spoken  of 
as  in  this  day  we  speak  of  cannibals  ;  when 
honorable,  industrious,  humane  labors  shall 
constitute  the  history  of  humanity,  then 
Franklin  will  be  acknowledged. 

' '  I  would  not  willingly  fall  into  that  sancti- 
monious tone,  the  remnant  of  pulpit  oratory, 
that  comes  out  in  us  whenever  we  approach 
the  eternal  sanctities  ;  and  I  hope  our  tone 
must  be  wholly  different  from  that  of  those 
who  claim  to  speak  in  the  name  of  a  spirit 
which  they  themselves  do  not  possess. 

"  God  manifested  himself  to  Moses,  Jesus, 
Mohammed  in  the  solitude  of  the  desert ; 
to  Spinoza  in  the  solitude  of  the  study;  to 
Franklin  in  the  solitude  of  the  sea."  (This 
last  clause  was  stricken  out,  and  then  again 
inserted.)  "Franklin  is  the  man  of  sober 
understanding,  who  knows  nothing  of  en- 
thusiasm. 

"  The  world  would  not  have  much  beauty 
if  all  human  beings  were  like  Franklin  ;  his 
nature  is  wholly  destitute  of  the  romantic 
element,  (to  be  expressed  differently,"  was 
written  in  the  margin,  and  attention  called 
to  it  by  a  cross,)  "  but  the  world  would  have 
uprightness,  truthfulness,  industriousness, 
and  helpfulness.  Now  they  use  the  word 
love,  and  take  delight  in  their  beautiful 


I  sentiments  ;  but  you  are  permitted  to  speak 
about  love  when  you  have  satisfied  those 
four  requirements."  (This  last  sentence  was 
underlined  with  red  ink.) 

"  In  Franklin  there  is  something  of  Socra- 
tes, and  there  is  specially  noticeable  a  happy 
vein  of  humor ;  Franklin  enjoys  also  a  good 
laugh. 

"  Franklin  is,  through  and  through,  good 
prose,  intelligible,  transparent,  compact. 

"  We  do  not  have  to  educate  geniuses  in 
the  world.  Every  genius  trains  himself, 
and  can  have  no  other  trainer.  In  the 
world  we  have  to  form  substantial,  ener- 
getic members  of  the  common  weal.  What 
thou  dost  specially,  whether  thou  makest 
shoe-pegs  or  marble  statues,  is  not  my  busi- 
ness but  thine. 

"  We  shall  never  be  in  a  right  position  in 
regard  to  the  world,  if  we  do  not  believe  in 
purity,  in  the  noblest  motives ;  the  inmost 
of  humanity  is  revealed  to  us  only  on  this 
condition.  There  is  no  better  coat-of-mail 
against  assaults,  than  faith  in  the  good  which 
others  do,  and  which  one  is  to  do  himself; 
one  hears  then,  within,  the  inspiring  tones 
of  martial  music,  and  marches  with  light 
and  free  step  onward  through  the  contest 
of  life. 

"It  is  the  distinguishing  and  favorable 
feature  in  Franklin's  life,  that  he  is  the  self- 
made  man ;  he  is  self-taught,  and  has  dis- 
covered by  himself  the  forces  of  nature  and 
the  treasures  of  science ;  he  is  the  repre- 
sentative of  those,  who,  transplanted  from 
Europe  to  America  and  in  danger  of  deteri- 
oration and  decay,  attained  a  wholly  new 
development. 

"  If  we  could  have,  like  antiquity,  a  myth- 
ological embodiment  of  that  world  which  is 
called  America,  which  carried  with  it  the 
gods  of  Europe, — I  mean  those  historical 
ideas  which  the  colonists  carried  over  with 
them,  and  yet  freely  adopted  into  their  own 
organic  life,  —  would  you  have  these  ideas 
embodied  in  a  human  form,  —  here  stands 
Benjamin  Franklin.  He  was  wise,  and  no 
one  taught  him ;  he  was  religious,  and  had 
no  church ;  he  was  a  lover  of  men,  and  yet 
knew  very  well  how  bad  they  were. 

"  He  not  only  knew  how  to  draw  the  light- 
ning from  the  clouds,  but  also  the  stormy 
elements  of  passion  from  the  tempers  of 
men ;  'he  has  laid  hold  of  those  prudential 
maxims  which  are  a  security  against  des- 
truction, and  which  lit  one  for  self-guidance. 

"  The  reason  why  I  should  take  him  for  a 
master  and  a  guide  in  the  education  of  a 
human  being,  is  this: — he  represents  the 
simple,  healthy,  human  understanding,  the 
firmly  established  and  the  safe ;  not  the  er- 
ratic spirit  of  genius,  but  those  virtues  of 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE   ON  THE  RHINE. 


157 


head  and  of  heart  which  steadily  and  quietly 
promote  man's  social  happiness  and  his 
moral  well-being. 

"  Luther  was  the  conqueror  of  the  middle 
ages  ;  Franklin  is  the  first  in  modern  times 
to  make  himself.  The  modern  man  is  no 
longer  a  martyr;  Luther  was  none,  and 
Franklin  still  less.    No  martyrdom. 

"  Franklin  has  introduced  into  the  world 
no  new  maxim,  but  he  has  expressed  with 
simplicity  those  which  an  honest  man  can 
hud  in  himself. 

"  In  what  Franklin  is,  and  in  what  he  im- 
parts, there  is  nothing  peculiar,  nothing  ex- 
citing, nothing  surprising,  nothing  mysteri- 
ous, nothing  brilliant  nor  dazzling  ;  it  is  the 
water  of  life,  the  water  which  all  creatures 
stand  in  need  of."  (Here  it  was  written  on 
the  margin,  —  Deep  springs  are  yet  to  be 
bored  for,  and  to  be  found  here).  "The  man 
of  the  past  eighteenth  century  had  no  idea 
of  the  people,  could  have  none,  for  it  was 
wrung  and  refined  out  of  the  free  thinking 
that  prevailed  even  to  the  very  end  of  the 
century,  even  to  the  revolution. 

"  He  who  creates  anew  stands  in  a  strange 
and  hostile,  or,  at  least,  independent  atti- 
tude towards  that  which  already  exists. 

"  Franklin  is  the  son  of  this  age  ;  he  recog- 
nizes only  the  in-born  worth  of  men,  not 
the  inherited.  (Deeper  boring  is  yet  to  be 
done  here)." 

With  paler  ink,  evidently  later,  it  was 
written,  — 

"It  is  not  by  chance,  that  this  first  not 
only  free-thinking,  —  for  many  philosophers 
were  this,  — but  also  free-acting  man  was  a 
printer. 

"  In  the  sphere  of  books  lies  not  the  hero- 
ism,—  I  believe  that  the  period  of  heroic 
development  is  past,  —  but  the  manhood  of 
the  new  age. 

"  Because  our  influence  is  exerted  through 
books,  there  can  be  no  longer  any  grand, 
personal  manifestation  of  power."  (Here 
were  two  interrogation-points  and  two  ex- 
clamation-points in  brackets,  and  there  was 
written  in  pencil  across  this  last  remark,  — 
"  This  can  be  better  said.") 

Then  at  the  conclusion  there  was  written 
in  blue  ink,  — 

"  Abstract  rules  can  form  no  character, 
no  human  being,  and  can  create  no  work 
of  art.  The  living  man,  and  the  concrete 
work  of  art  contain"  all  rules,  as  language 
contains  all  grammar,  and  these  are  the 
good  and  the  beautiful. 

"  He  who  knows  the  real  men  who  have 
preceded  him,  so  that  they  live  again  in 
him,  enters  into  their  circle ;  he  sets  his 
foot  upon  the  holy  ground  of  existence,  he 


is  consecrated  through  the  predecessors  who 
trode  it  before  him.1' 

And  again,  in  a  trembling  hand,  there 
was  written,  at  a  late  period,  clear  across 
the  previous  writing  : — 

"  Whoever  takes  a  part  in  the  up-build- 
ing of  the  State  and  the  community,  who- 
ever fills  an  office  and  makes  laws,  whoever 
stands  in  the  midst  of  the  science  of  his 
time,  becomes  antiquated  in  the  course  of 
the  new  civilization  that  succeeds  him ;  he 
is  not,  by  virtue  of  his  position,  an  arche- 
typal pattern  of  the  coming  age.  He  only 
is  so,  who  discerns,  clears  up,  lays  hold  of 
and  establishes  anew,  those  eternal  laws  of 
the  human  spirit,  which  are  the  same  from 
the  beginning  and  throughout  all  time ; 
therefore  Franklin  is  not  a  pattern,  but 
rather  a  method." 

And  now,  finally,  came  the  words,  which 
were  twice  underlined  :  — 

"My  last  maxim  is  this:  —  'Organic 
life,  abstract  laws  !  '  We  can  make  brandy 
out  of  grain,  but  not  grain  out  of  brandy. 
He  who  understands  that,  has  all  that  I 
have  to  say." 

Eric  had  read  so  far,  and  now  he  leaned 
back,  and  endeavored  to  form  an  idea  of 
his  father's  thought,  and  to  catch  the  whole 
meaning  of  these  often  half-expressed  utter- 
ance's. 

He  felt  as  if  he  were  walking  upon  a 
mountain-top  in  the  midst  of  clouds,  and 
yet  seeing  the  path  and  the  goal. 

He  placed  his  hand  upon  the  manuscript 
leaves,  and  a  happy  smile  came  over  his 
countenance ;  then  he  arose,  and  almost 
laughed  aloud,  for  the  expression  of  the 
architect,  on  his  arrival,  occurred  to  him. 

4 '  We  have  it !  " 

"  Yes,"  he  cried,  "  I  have  it,  I  have  the 
spring,  from  which  clear,  sparkling  water 
shall  flow  forth  for  Roland  and  for  me." 

He  found  no  rest ;  he  opened  the  window, 
and  looked  out  for  a  longtime  on  the  night. 
The  air  was  full  of  the  fragranee  of  roses, 
the  sky  full  of  the  glory  of  stars  ;  occasion- 
ally a  nightingale  sang,  and  then  ceased, 
while  in  the  distance,  where  the  river  was 
dammed  up,  the  frogs  kept  up  a  noisy 
croaking. 

Now  Eric  heard  a  man's  voice  —  it  is  the 
voice  of  Franken  below  on  the  balcony  — 
which  was  saying  in  a  loud  tone,  — 

"  We  attach  much,  too  much  importance 
to  it.  Such  a  family-tutor  ought  properly 
to  wear  a  livery ;  that  would  be  the  best." 

"  You  are  very  merry  to-day,"  replied 
Sonnenkamp. 

"On  the  contrary,  very  serious;  the  sa- 
cred order  of  things,  without  which  neither 


158 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


society  nor  the  state  can  exist,  has  a  sure 
support  in  the  differences  of  rank  being 
maintained,  if  each  one  shows  his  particular 
class.    Service  —  " 

Eric  closed  the  window  softly  ;  he  deemed 
it  unworthy  to  listen. 

The  nightingales  sang  outside  in  the 
thicket,  and  the  frogs  croaked  in  the  swamp. 

"  Each  sings  in  its  own  way,"  said  Eric 
to  himself,  as  he  thought  of  the  cheering 
words  of  his  father,  and  the  expression  of 
the  young  baron. 

CHAPTER  III. 
THE  OLD  UNDER  A  NEW  FACE. 

On  the  morning,  Roland  wanted  to  ride 
before  doing  any  thing  else ;  but  Eric, 
whose  maxim  was  that  the  day  could  be 
consecrated  only  by  taking  some  good  in- 
fluence into  the  soul,  made»him  read  aloud 
the  first  chapter  of  Benjamin  Franklin's  au- 
tobiography. This  was  the  dedicatory  act 
of  their  new  occupation,  and  when  they 
were  called  to  breakfast,  both  were  very  ani- 
mated. They  could  take  an  equal  satisfac- 
tion with  Fraulein  Perini,  who  returned 
from  mass  with  Herr  von  Pranken. 

Eric  had  not  mistaken,  Pranken  was 
there.  He  greeted  Eric  with  a  sort*  of 
studied  respectfulness,  but  he  fulfilled,  after 
his  way,  the  demands  of  sincerity ;  whilst 
he,  as  a  man  who  has  nothing  to  conceal, 
openly  acknowledged  that  he  had  frequently 
thought  it  would  be  better  that  Eric  should 
not  enter  upon  the  position,  with  great  de- 
cision, and  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction,  he 
added  to  this,  that  there  were  mysterious 
presentiments  in  the  soul,  which  we  must 
humbly  acknowledge ;  and  so  this  self- 
willed  act  of  Roland's  was  the  finger  of  fate, 
which  laid  upon  Eric,  as  upon  all  the  others, 
the  duty  of  compliance. 

Eric  looked  at  Pranken  in  utter  amaze- 
ment. He  had  mistaken  this  man ;  Pranken 
brought  forward  principles  of  conduct 
which  he  should  never  have  supposed,  nor 
would  now  have  attributed  to  him. 

The  breakfast  passed  off  cheerfully ;  the 
amusement  was  at  the  Major's  expense, 
more  indeed  while  absent,  than  while  pres- 
ent. He  had  naturally  narrated  to  Pranken 
the  terrors  of  the  extra  train,  and  Pranken 
knew  how  to  tell  the  story  again  very  much 
to  their  entertainment ;  he  could  imitate  the 
Major's  thick  way  of  talking,  and  Fraulein 
Milch  was  always  spoken  of  as  Fräulein 
Milch  with  the  black  eyes  and  the  white 
cap. 

After  breakfast,  Eric  requested  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  that  he  and  Roland  might,  for 


the  future,  be  excused  from  this  breakfast- 
ing in  common,  and  might  be  left  alone  to- 
gether until  dinner-time. 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  him  with  surprise. 
Eric  explained  that  he  asked  this  on  the 
first  day,  in  order  that  there  might  be  no 
precedent  of  custom  established.  It  was 
thoroughly  needful  to  keep  Roland  undis- 
turbed, and  in  a  persistent  determination ; 
this  could  only  be  done  by  leaving  to  them 
at  least  half  of  the  day,  and  the  freshness 
of  the  morning.  Sonnenkamp  agreed  to  it, 
shrugging  his  shoulders. 

At  breakfast  it  had  been  casually  men- 
tioned that  Bella  and  Clodwig  Avould  dine 
with  them  to-day. 

Eric  saw  at  once  the  chief  difficulty  of 
his  calling,  which  lay  in  the  liability  of  di- 
versions becoming  interruptions.  He  drew 
a  line  of  demarkation  between  himself  and 
all  the  household,  especially  Sonnenkamp, 
which  was  not  expressly  defined,  but  yet 
could  not  be  overstepped;  and  this  was  so 
much  the  more  difficult,  as  Eric  was  not 
taciturn,  and  readily  entered  into  the  dis- 
cussion of  all  matters.  But  what  was  this 
line  ?  There  was  a  something  in  him  which 
said  to  each  one  that  he  must  not  ask  more 
than  Eric  was  ready,  on  his  part,  to  answer. 
He  labored  with  Roland,  and  found  out 
where  the  boy  was  well-grounded  in  knowl- 
edge, where  there  was  only  a  partial  defi- 
ciency, and  where  there  was  total  igno- 
rance. 

A  carriage  drove  into  the  court.  Roland 
looked  towards  Eric.  He  did  not  appear 
to  have  heard  the  rattling  wheels. 

"Your  friends  have  arrived,"  said  Ro- 
land. He  avoided  saying  that  he  himself 
was  very  impatient  to  greet  Clodwig  and 
Bella,  and,  under  the  form  of  a  reprimand, 
to  receive  praise  for  executing  the  bold 
deed.  But  Eric  insisted  that  they  had  no 
friends  except  duty  ;  that  there  was  nothing 
and  nobody  there  for  them  until  they  had 
performed  their  duty. 

Roland  clasped  his  hands  tightly  together 
under  the  table,  and  compelled  himself  to 
be  quiet. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  a  mathematical 
axiom,  he  said,  — 

4 *  Excuse  me,  they  have  fastened  Griffin 
by  a  chain,  I  know  it  by  his  bark ;  they 
must  not  do  it :  it  spoils  him." 

"Let  Griffin  and  everything  else  alone; 
all  must  wait,"  Eric  said,  maintaining  his 
stand 

Roland  pranced  like  a  horse  who  feels  the 
rein  and  spurs  of  the  rider. 

Soon,  however,  Eric  went  with  Roland 
down  into  the  court.  Roland  was  right; 
Griffin  was  chained.    He  loosed  him,  and 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


159 


both  boy  and  dog  seemed  unchained,  madly 
sporting  together. 

Bella  was  with  Frau  Ceres. 

A  servant  informed  Eric  that  Count 
Clodwig  was  expecting  him.  Clodwig 
came  to  meet  Eric  with  great  cordiality, 
greeted  him  as  a  neighbor,  and  rejoiced 
that  the  boy  had  exhibited  so  much  energy. 

"  If  we  were  living  in  the  ancient  times," 
he  added,  "  the  boy  would  have  received  a 
new  name  from  this  exploit."  What  Clodwig 
said  of  Roland  was,  at  the  same  time,  noble 
in  sentiment  and  good  in  the  manner  of  ex- 
pression. 

When  they  were  at  the  dinner-table,  Eric 
heard  in  what  way  Bella  jested  with  Roland  ; 
the  boy  was  beaming  with  delight,  for  Bella 
told  him  of  the  hero,  Roland. 

Eric  was  greeted  in  a  friendly  but  meas- 
ured way,  by  Bella;  she  called  him  repeat- 
edly, "  Herr  Neighbor,"  and  was  extremely 
unconstrained.  It  could  seem  to  her  now 
as  a  laughable  piece  of  prudery  and  timid- 
ity, that  she  had  endeavored  at  one  time  to 
exert  an  influence  to  remove  Eric  from  the 
vicinity.  Had  then  the  man  made  an  unu- 
sual impression  upon  her  ?  It  appeared  to 
her  now  like  a  dream,  like  a  mistake. 

Eric  had  thought  of  this  first  meeting  with 
a  sort  of  anxiety ;  now  he  chided  also  his 
vanity. 

"  Shall  you  have  the  library  of  your  fa- 
ther brought  here  ?  "  asked  Clodwig. 

Eric  replied  affirmatively,  and  Bella 
stared  at  him.  He  knew  now  why  Bella 
had  been  so  indifferent  and  unconcerned ; 
he  had  received  money  from  her  husband, 
and  he  now  ranked,  therefore,  very  differ- 
ently in  her  estimation. 

At  dinner  he  saw  Frau  Ceres  again,  for 
the  first  time ;  and  when  he  went  to  her, 
she  said  in  a  very  low  tone,  "  I  thank  you," 
but  nothing  further ;  the  words  were  very 
significant. 

They  were  in  good  spirits  at  table.  They 
thought  that  the  journey  would  be  a  benefit 
to  Frau  Ceres.  It  would  be  a  suitable 
preparation  for  the  journey  to  the  baths. 
One  and  another  day  was  named  for  setting 
out. 

Eric  did  not  know  what  this  meant ;  Ro- 
land saw  his  inquiring  look,  and  said  to 
her  in  a  low  tone  , — 

"  We  are  all  going  to  see  Manna,  and 
bring  her  back  to  journey  with  us  to  the 
baths.    This  will  be  jolly  and  fine." 

Eric  experienced  anew  that  the  chief  diffi- 
culty of  a  life  so  abounding  in  means  and  so 
unconfined  by  regular  duties  was,  that  every 
one  in  the  family,  and  the  boy  especially, 
was  living  either  in  the  reaction  from  some 


I  dissipating  amusement,  or  in  the  expectation 
of  engaging  in  it.  He  would  wait  quietly., 
until  the  question  was  asked  him,  in  order 
then  to  make  his  resolute  decision  of  some 
account. 

After  dinner  it  happened,  as  if  by  chance, 
that  Bella  walked  with  Eric.  She  first 
told  him  how  happy  Clodwig  was  that  Eric 
was  to  remain  now  in  his  neighborhood,  and 
then  suddenly  standing  still,  and  with  a 
furtively  watchful  look,  she  said,  — 

"  You  will  shortly  see  Fräulein  Sonnen- 
kamp again." 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  journey  with  us,  do  you 
not  ?  " 

"  No  one  has  so  informed  me." 
Bella  smiled. 

"  But  surely  you  will  be  glad  to  see 
Frauleki  Sonnenkamp  again  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  she  when  I 
met  her."  9 

Bella  smiled  again,  and  said,  — 

"  I  have  seen  enough  of  the  world  to  have 
no  prejudice.  The  daughter  of  the  house 
and  my  brother  Otto  —  Ah,  you  know  well 
enough  what  I  wish  to  say." 

"  No,  gracious  lady,  you  give  me  credit 
for  too  much  wisdom." 

"  It  should  offend  me  if  you  are  reserved 
towards  me,  and  are  on  such  intimate  terms 
with  the  outside  acquaintances  of  the  fami- 
ly. The  Major's  housekeeper  boasts  of 
your  being  her  favorite,  and  yet  do  you 
know  nothing  of  the  private  betrothal  ?  " 

"  Not  until  this  moment.  I  offer  my  con- 
gratulations, and  I  am  proud,  gracious  lady, 
that  you  initiate  me  with  such  confidingness 
into  your  family  affairs." 

"Do  you  know,"  cried  Bella  quickly, 
"do  you  know  that  I  promise  myself  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  from  you  ?  " 

4 '  From  me  ?    What  can  I  do  ?  " 

"That  is  not  my  meaning,  to  speak  in 
direct  terms.  I  have  thought  a  great  deal 
about  you.  You  are  of  an  impulsive  dispo- 
sition, but  you  are  still  an  enigma  to  me, 
and  I  hope  that  I  also  am  to  you." 

"  I  had  not  allowed  myself,  indeed — " 

"I  allow  you  to  allow  yourself.  Then, 
Herr  Captain,  or  Herr  Doctor,  or  Herr 
Dournay,  but,  at  any  rate,  Herr  Neighbor, 
we  will  make  a  contract.  I  shall  try  to  re- 
solve for  myself  the  contradictions  and 
oddities  of  your  nature,  and  make  such 
investigations  as  I  am  able  to ;  on  the  other 
hand,  I  allow  you  to  do  the  same  with  me. 
Do  you  not  find  this  attractive  ?  " 

"  Attractive  and  dangerous." 

Bella  straightened  herself  up,  and  Eric 
continued :  — 


160 


THE  .  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Dangerous  for  me,  for  you  know  what 
friend  Hamlet  says,  that  if  our  deserts  are 
known,  '  who  can  escape  a  whipping  ?  1 " 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  not  polite,  but 
neither  should  you  be  diffident.11 

"I  mean,  that  it  might  be  dangerous  for 
me,  not  for  you.11 

"I  am  too  proud  to  sell,  or  to  throw 
away  politeness,  as  the  Austrian  proverb 
says.11 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  are  too  proud  for 

it  too.11 

"  And  now  tell  me  in  what  way  you  saw 
Manna,  and  how  she  appeared  to  you.11 

Eric  narrated  the  casual  meeting,  and 
how  he  had  first  learned  her  name  through 
the  daughter  of  the  Justice. 

"Ah,  indeed,  indeed,  Lina,11  said  Bella, 
and  her  fingers  moved  very  rapidly,  as  if 
she  were  playing  a  piano  in  the  air..  It 
was  an  agreeable  recreation  to  look  upon 
the  playing  of  this  sentimental  game,  for 
Lina  had  a  decided  penchant  for  Otto. 
But  the  naive  Innocence  knew  very  well 
that  Otto  had  a  preference  for  Manna,  and 
it  was  not  so  very  bad  a  plan  to  introduce 
to  Manna  so  handsome  a  suitor  as  Eric. 

AVhile  Bella  was  walking  with  Eric, 
Pranken  had  taken  Roland  very  confid- 
ingly by  the  hand,  and  visited  with  him  the 
stables  and  the  young  dogs ;  then  he  led 
him  into  an  unfrequented  part  of  the  park, 
very  remote  from  the  road.  Their  talk 
was  very  naturally  about  Eric,  and  Roland 
could  not  find  words  to  tell  how  all-wise 
and  all-good  he  was.  Pranken  rebuked, 
with  a  stern  countenance,  the  application 
of  such  words  to  a  human  being,  and  he 
impressed  very  strenuously  upon  him,  that 
he  could  learn  much  from  the  worldly  man 
that  would  be  advantageous  to  him  in  the 
world,  but  there  was  a  highest  which  he 
was  not  to  entrust  to  him,  and  wherein  he 
was  to  be  in  no  way  obedient. 

And  now  he  spoke  of  Manna.  There 
was  an  expression  of  devotion  in  his  words, 
as  well  as  in  his  tone.  He  took  the  book, 
which  he  always  carried  over  his  heart,  out 
of  his  breast-pocket,  and  showed  Roland 
the  exact  place  which  Manna  reads  to-day  ; 
by  running  away,  Roland  had  let  several 
days  slip  without  reading  the  same  pas- 
sages, but  he  could  now  catch  up  by  dili- 
gence. But,  more  than  all,  Herr  Dournay 
need  know  nothing  of  it,  for  no  one  of  a 
different  faith  should  step  between  Roland 
and  his  God. 

Pranken  seated  himself  with  Roland  un- 
der a  great  nut-tree,  by  the  road,  and  read 
aloud  some  expressive  passages.  The  boy 
looked  at  him  in  wonderment.  The  Wine- 
chevalier  rode  by ;  he  called  out  a  greeting 


to  Pranken,  but  the  latter  returned  it  with 
only  a  friendly  wave  of  the  hand,  and  con- 
tinued his  reading. 

It  was  like  a  release  to  Roland  when 
Bella  and  Eric  came  along,  engaged  in  a 
merry,  jesting  conversation.  He  called  to 
them,  and  shortly  after  joined  Eric ;  and 
Bella  went  by  the  side  of  her  brother,  who 
twirled  his  moustaches  and  surveyed  his 
handsome  boots.  When  Eric  and  Roland 
had  departed,  Pranken  straightened  himself 
up,  and  began  to  appeal  directly  to  BehVs 
conscience  for  coquetting  and  trilling  thus 
with  a  young  man. 

Bella  stood  still,  seemingly  at  a  loss 
whether  to  laugh  at  he.r  brother  or  sharply 
reprove  him  ;  but  she  concluded  in  favor  of 
the  former  course,  and  ridiculed  the  new 
convert. 

"Ah,11  she  cried,  "you  are  very  prop- 
erly afraid  that  this  Herr  Dournay  will  be 
pleasing  to  the  glorified  Manna,  and  you 
suppose  the  same  in  regard  to  me.  You 
have  just  hit  it.  The  man  has  something 
bewitching  for  us  women,  provided  we  are 
shut  up  in  the  bonds  of  wedlock,  or  in  a 
convent.1' 

Pranken  did  not  fall  in  with  this  tone ; 
he  repeated,  that  every  jest,  every  act  of 
trifling,  bordered  upon  a  sin,  and  jesting 
was  liable  to  remove  imperceptibly  the 
boundary  line.  He  was  so  zealous,  that 
he  took  the  book  out  of  his  breast-pocket, 
and  read  aloud  to  Bella  a  passage  having 
reference  to  the  subject. 

Bella  looked  with  astonishment  when 
Otto  exhibited  so  pious  a  book :  she 
pointed  out  to  her  brother,  meanwhile, 
what  impregnable  virtue  was ;  she  made 
fun  of  the  young  man,  who  had  a  truly  re- 
volting self-confidence.  Moreover,  Otto 
could  be  wholly  at  rest,  if  there  was  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  understanding  between  her 
and  Eric ;  yes,  she  would  willingly  make, 
so  far,  a  sacrifice  for  him  ;  her  virtue  would 
be  secure  from  every  misconstruction,  and 
she  would  assume  this  appearance,  in  order 
to  free  Otto  from  a  dangerous  rival. 

"I  am,  indeed,  in  earnest,11  she  con- 
cluded. "  Are  the  good  to  deny  to  them- 
selves a  friendly  intercourse,  because  the 
bad  conceal  under  this  appearance  all  kinds 
of  baseness  ?  That  would  be  a  world 
turned  upside  down  ;  that  would  be  the  sub- 
jection of  the  good  to  the  evil/1 

Bella  was  not  aware,  or  she  did  not  think 
it  worth  while  to  take  note  of  it,  that  she 
here  set  forth  a  remark  of  her  husband. 
Pranken  looked  at  her  with  surprise.  Was 
he,  in  fact,  misled  by  his  newly  awakened 
zeal,  or  was  this  only  a  nicely-woven  veil, 
a  mere  outside  show  of  virtue  ?    He  was  in 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


161 


perplexity ;  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say  in 
reply  to  this  jesting  and  playful  tone,  to 
these  insinuous  and  flexible  evasions  of  his 
sister. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  FRUSTRATED  PLAN. 

Eric  found  great  difficulty  in  keeping  his 
pupil  steadily  at  his  lessons,  so  completely 
was  he  taken  up  with  the  thought  of  the 
journey. 

The  day  came  for  the  journey  to  the  con- 
vent; it  was  a  bright  day  of  sunshine. 

Eric  requested  that  he  might  remain 
behind ;  Sonnenkamp  immediately  agreed, 
adding  kindly  that  it  would  probably  be 
agreeable  to  Eric  to  have  a  few  quiet  days 
alone.  This  considerateness  appeared  very 
friendly  to  Eric,  who  returned  it  by  saying 
that  it  should  be  his  endeavor  not  to  es- 
trange Roland  from  his  family. 

Pranken  drove  over  with  his  sister,  and 
Bella  told  Eric  that  Ciodwig  sent  a  message, 
begging  for  his  company  during  their  ab- 
sence. Eric  became  thus  aware,  for  the 
first  time,  that  he  had  never  been  expected 
to  join  the  party ;  he  immediately  stifled 
the  sensitive  feelings  arising  from  this,  as 
well  as  from  some  other  occurrences.  Ro- 
land alone  urged  him  pressingly  to  go  with 
them,  saying,  unreservedly,  — 

"Manna  will  be  very  much  vexed  if  you 
do  not  come  ;  she  ought  to  see  you  too." 

Sonnenkamp  smiled  oddly  at  this  en- 
treaty, and  Pranken  turned  away  to  con- 
ceal his  features. 

Roland  took  a  most  affectionate  leave  of 
Eric  ;  it  was  the  first  time  that  he  was  to  be 
parted  from  him  for  hours  and  through 
the  night :  he  promised,  meanwhile,  to  tell 
Manna  much  about  him.  Something  un- 
usual must  have  been  passing  in  the  boy's 
mind,  for  just  at  the  moment  of  departure, 
he  said  to  Eric,  — 

"  You  and  the  house,  you  don't  go  away 
from  your  place." 

Eric  pressed  his  hand  warmly. 

They  drove  to  the  steamboat  in  three 
carriages.  Pranken  with  Frau  Ceres,  Son- 
nenkamp with  Fraulein  Perini  and  Bella, 
and,  in  the  third  carriage,  Roland  and  the 
servants. 

They  drove  a  short  distance  up  the  river 
to  take  the  boat,  and  as  they  afterwards 
shot  quickly  past  the  Villa,  Eric  was  stand-  I 
ing  on  the  beautiful,  wooded  hill,  whence  I 
there  was  a  view  down  the  stream,  where 
the  mountains  seemed  to  meet  to  compel 
the  river  to  spread  out  into  a  lake.  Roland 
waved  his  hat  from  the  boat,  and  Eric  an- ! 


swered  the  greeting  in  the  same  way,  say- 
ing to  himself,  — 

"  Farewell,  boy  dear  to  my  heart." 

Whoever  understands  the  meaning  of  the 
fact  that  Eric  could  not  send  a  greeting  into 
the  distance,  where  it  was  inaudible,  with- 
out speaking  an  earnest  word  of  love,  — 
whoever  understands  this,  has  the  key  to 
the  depths  of  Eric's  character. 

The  boat  puffed  by,  the  waves  in  its  wake 
plashed  for  a  while  against  the  shore,  and 
tossed  the  pretty  pleasure-boat  up  and  down, 
then  all  was  still  again.  The  steamboat 
shot  down  the  stream,  and  the  party  on 
board  was  very  cheerful.  Pranken  occu- 
pied himself  with  special  attentions  to  Frau 
Ceres,  who,  wrapped  in  fine  shawls,  sat  on 
the  deck. 

Roland  had  received  permission  to  take 
Griffin  with  him.  All  on  board  were  struck 
by  the  handsome  boy,  and  many  expressed 
their  admiration  aloud. 

For  a  short  distance  the  Wine-count  and 
his  son,  the  Wine-chevalier,  travelled  with 
them.  The  old  gentleman,  a  tall,  distin- 
guished-looking man,  wore  his  red  ribbon 
in  his  button-hole ;  the  young  man  was  very 
much  pleased  to  meet  Pranken  there,  and 
especially  happy  to  be  able  to  salute  Frau 
Bella.  • 

Towards  Sonnenkamp  and  his  family  both 
these  old  inhabitants  had  hitherto  borne 
themselves  with  some  reserve  ;  to-day  they 
seemed  to  wish  to  change  this  reserve  for  a 
more  friendly  manner,  but  Sonnenkamp  held 
back,  not  choosing  that  they  should  make 
advances  to  him  now  that  they  saw  him  in  a 
position  of  honor ;  and  he  was  evidently  re- 
lieved when  they  left  the  steamer,  at  the 
second  stopping-place,  where  there  was  a 
large  Water-cure  establishment.  On  the 
landing  stood  the  steward  of  the  prince's 
household  with  his  invalid  son,  waiting  for 
the  two  gentlemen.  Bella  received  a  most 
respectful  bow  from  his  Excellency,  and  she 
told  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  as  they  went  on 
their  way,  that  it  was  almost  a  settled  mat- 
ter, that  the  daughter  of  the  rich  wine-mer- 
chant was  to  marry  the  invalid  son  of  the 
steward. 

The  day  was  bright  and  clear ;  hardly  a 
breath  of  wind  blew  .upon  the  swiftly-mov- 
ing boat.  Roland  frequently  overheard 
some  one  whispering  half  aloud  to  some 
passenger,  newly  come  on  board,  "There 
is  the  rich  American,  who  is  worth  ten  mil- 
lions." 

A  special  table  was  laid  on  deck  for  Son- 
nenkamp's  party,  and  Joseph  had  it  orna- 
mented with  flowers  and  brightly-polished 
wine-coolers.  Sonnenkamp's  servants,  in 
their  coffee-colored  livery,  waited  on  them. 


162 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


At  table  Roland  asked,  — 

14  Father,  is  it  true,  that  you  are  worth 
ten  millions  ? 11 

' 1  People  have  not  yet  counted  my  money,11 
replied  Sonnenkamp,  smiling ;  "  at  all  events 
you  Avill  have  enough  to  allow  you  to  order 
such  a  dinner  as  we  have  to-day.11 

The  boy  did  not  seem  satisfied  with  this 
answer,  and  Sonnenkamp  added,  — 

"My  son,  one  is  rich  only  by  compari- 
son.11 

"  Mark  the  words,  rich  only  by  compari- 
son,11 repeated  Franken;  "that's  a  tine 
expression ;  it  includes  a  whole  balance- 
sheet.11 

Sonnenkamp  smiled ;  he  was  always 
pleased  when  any  one  dwelt  on  an  expres- 
sion of  his  with  special  emphasis. 

"  Ah,  travelling  is  so  pleasant,  so  jolly, 
if  we  only  had  Eric  with  us  !  11  cried  Ro- 
land. 

No  one  answered.  The  boy  seemed  un- 
usually talkative,  for  as  the  champagne  was 
opened,  and  Bella  proposed  Manna1  s  health, 
he  said  to  Franken,  — 

"  You  ought  to  marry  Manna.11 

The  ladies  gave  an  odd  look  at  the  two 
men ;  Roland  had  given  utterance  to  the 
wish  of  all.  He  became  more  and  more  the 
central  object  of  the  conversation  and  the 
jesting,  and  more  and  more  talkative  and 
extravagant;  he  uttered  the  wildest  non- 
sense, and  at  last  complied  with  Pranken^ 
request  that  he  would  imitate  the  candidate 
Knopf.  He  smoothed  his  hair  back,  took 
snuli"  from  his  left  hand,  which  he  held  like 
a  snuff-box,  and  constantly  tapped  ;  he  sud- 
denly assumed  a  perfectly  strange  voice  and 
expression,  as,  in  a  stiff,  wooden  manner, 
he  declaimed  the  fourth  conjugation,  and 
the  precepts  of  Pythagoras,  with  a  mixture 
of  all  sorts  of  other  things. 

"Now  can  you  mimic  Herr  Dournay?11 
asked  Franken. 

Roland  was  struck  dumb.  A  stony  look 
came  into  his  face,  as  if  he  had  seen  some 
monster  ;  then  he  grew  suddenly  calm,  and 
looked  at  Franken  as  if  he  would  annihilate 
him,  saying,  — 

"I  will  never  again  imitate  Candidate 
Knopf,  that  I  vow  from  this  day  forth.11 

The  boy,  who  was  excited  by  wine  and  by 
talking,  became  suddenly  quiet,  and  disap- 
peared, so  that  the  servants  had  to  be  sent 
in  search  of  him.  He  was  found  on  the 
forward  deck  with  his  dog,  great  tears  in 
his  eyes  ;  he  allowed  himself  to  be  led  back 
to  his  friends  without  opposition,  but  he 
continued  silent. 

The  steamboat  glided  on  and  on ;  the 
vineyards  glowed  in  the  midday  sunshine, 
and  soon  it  was  said,  — 


"  Only  two  more  stops,  then  comes  the 
convent.11 

Roland  went  back  to  his  dog,  and  said, — 

"  Griffin,  now  we  are  going  to  Manna; 
aren:t  you  glad  ?  11 

It  was  still  high  noon  when  they  landed 
by  the  weeping-willows  on  the  shore,  and 
entered  the  refreshing  shade  of  the  park 
which  surrounded  the  convent.  The  ser- 
vants were  left  in  a  large  inn  on  the  other 
bank  of  the  river. 

No  one  was  on  the  shore  awaiting  the 
travellers,  although  their  coming  had  been 
announced  beforehand. 

"  Manna  not  here  ?  11  asked  Sonnenkamp 
as  he  sprang  ashore,  and  the  fierce  look, 
which  he  generally  knew  how  to  conceal, 
came  into  his  face. 

Frau  Ceres  only  turned  her  head  towards 
him,  and  he  became  gentle  and  mild. 

"  I  only  hope  the  good  child  is  not  sick,11 
he  added,  in  a  tone  which  would  have  suited 
a  hermit  doing  penance. 

They  went  to  the  convent,  whose  doors 
were  closed ;  the  church  alone  was  open, 
and  a  nun,  with  veiled  face,  was  prostrate 
in  prayer,  while  the  bright  sunshine  sparkled 
out  of  doors.  The  visitors,  who  had  crossed 
the  threshold,  drew  quietly  back ;  they 
rang  at  the  convent  door,  and  the  portress 
opened  it.  Herr  Sonnenkamp  inquired 
whether  Fräulein  Hermanna  Sonnenkamp 
were  well ;  the  portress  answered  in  the 
affirmative,  and  added,  that  if  they  were  her 
parents,  the  Superior  begged  them  to  come 
to  her  in  the  parlor.  Sonnenkamp  asked 
Bella,  Pranken,  and  Fraulein  Perini  to  wait 
in  the  garden ;  he  wished  Roland  to  stay 
with  them,  but  the  boy  said,  — 

"  No,  Fm  going  with  you.11 

His  mother  took  his  hand  and  spoke  for 
the  first  time. 

"  Very  well,  you  can  stay  with  me.11 

Griffin  remained  outside.  Roland  and 
his  parents  were  shown  into  the  presence 
of  the  Superior,  who  received  them  with  a 
very  friendly  and  dignified  bearing.  She 
asked  a  sister  who  was  with  her  to  leave 
them  alone,  and  then  requested  the  visitors 
to  be  seated.  It  was  cool  and  pleasant  in 
the  large  room,  where  hung  pictures  of 
saints  painted  on  a  gold  background. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  our  daughter?11 
asked  Sonnenkamp  at  last,  breathing  deeply. 

"  Your  child,  whom  Ave  may  call  our 
child  also, — for  we  love  her  no  less  than 
you  do,  —  is  quite  well ;  she  is  generally 
yielding  and  patient  too,  but  sometimes  she 
shows  an  incomprehensible  self-will,  amount- 
ing almost  to  stubbornness.11 

A  rapid  flash  from  Sonnenkamp^  eyes 
fell  upon  his  wife,  who  looked  at  him  and 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


163 


moved  her  upper  Hp  very  slightly.    The  I 
Superior  did  not  notice  this,  for  while  she 
spoke  she  either  closed  her  eyes  or  kept  I 
them  cast  down  ;  she  quietly  continued,  — 

"  Our  dear  Manna  refuses  to  see  her  pa- 
rents, unless  they  will  promise  beforehand 
that  she  may  remain  with  us  at  the  convent 
through  the  winter ;  she  says  that  she  does 
not  yet  feel  herself  strong  enough  to  enter 
the  world.1' 

"And  you  have  granted  her  this  condi- 
tion ? 11  asked  Sonnenkamp,  as  he  ran  his 
hand  through  his  white  neck-handkerchief, 
and  loosened  it. 

"  We  have  nothing  to  grant  to  her ;  you 
are  her  parents,  and  have  unconditional 
power  over  your  child.1' 

"Of  course,"  burst  out  Sonnenkamp, 
"  of  course,  if  her  thoughts  are  influenced 
—  but  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  interrupted 
you." 

"  By  no  means,  I  have  finished ;  you  have 
to  decide  whether  you  will  agree  to  the 
condition  beforehand ;  you  have  full  pa- 
rental power.  I  will  call  one  of  the  sisters 
to  conduct  you  to  Manna's  cell ;  it  is  not 
locked.  I  have  only  performed  the  child's 
commission,  now  act  according  to  your  own 
judgment.11 

"Yes,  that  I  will  do,  and  she  shall  not 
stay  here  an  hour  longer  ! " 


"  If  her  mother  has  any  voice  in  the  mat- 
ter," began  Frau  Ceres. 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  her  as  if  some 
speechless  piece  of  furniture  had  spoken, 
and  Frau  Ceres  continued,  not  to  him,  but 
to  the  Superior,  — 

"I  declare  as  her  mother  that  we  will 
lay  no  compulsion  upon  her ;  I  grant  her 
this  condition." 

Sonnenkamp  started  up  and  clutched  the 
back  of  a  chair ;  there  was  a  violent  strug- 
gle within  him,  but  suddenly  he  said,  in  a 
most  gentle  tone,  — 

"  Roland,  go  now  to  Herr  von  Pranken.11 

Roland  was  forced  to  leave  the  convent, 
his  heart  beating  fast.  There  was  his  sister 
in  a  room  above ;  what  was  to  happen  to 
her  ?  Why  could  he  not  go  to  her,  embrace 
and  kiss  her,  and  play  with  her  long  dark 
hair  as  be  used  to  do  ?  He  went  out  of 
doors,  but  not  to  Pranken ;  he  entered  the 
open  church,  and  there  he  knelt  and  prayed 
with  deep  fervor.  He  could  not  have  said 
for  what  he  prayed,  but  he  asked  for  peace 
and  beauty,  and  suddenly,  as  he  looked  up, 
he  started  back ;  there  was  the  great  picture 
of  St.  Anthony  of  Padua,  and,  wonderful  to 
say,  this  picture  resembled  Eric,  —  the  no- 
ble, beautiful  face  was  Eric's. 

The  boy  gazed  long  at  it ;  at  last  he  laid 
his  head  on  his  hands,  and  —  blessed  power 
of  youth !  —  he  fell  asleep. 


164 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  V. 
SECRET,  SILENT  LOVE. 

The  parents  entered  Manna's  cell. 
Manna  calmly  met  them,  and  said,  — 

"  Welcome,  and  may  God's  blessing  be 
with  you  !  "  She  extended  her  hand  to  her 
father ;  her  hand  thrilled  as'she  felt  the  ring 
on  her  father's  thumb.  Then  she  threw  her- 
self upon  her  mother's  breast  and  kissed  her. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  cried,  "  forgive  me  ! 
Do  not  think  me  heartless  ;  I  must  do  so  — 
no,  I  will  to  do  so.  I  thank  you,  that  you 
have  granted  my  request." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  we  put  no  constraint  upon 
you,"  said  the  mother ;  and  Sonnenkamp, 
who  had  not  yet  assented,  was  obliged  to 
comply  with  her  wishes. 

Manna's  countenance  became  suddenly 
lighted  up ;  she  said  that  she  was  glad  to 
see  her  parents  looking  so -well,  and  that 
she  prayed  for  them  daily,  and  that  heaven 
would  hearken  to  her  prayer.  Manna  had 
a  tone  of  voice  in  which  one  seemed  to  feel 
the  repressed  tears ;  this  voice  appeared  to 
affect  Sonnenkamp,  so  that  he  placed  his 
hand  upon  his  heart,  and  his  posture  and 
look  were  as  if  he  were  making  a  silent 
vow. 

When  Manna  asked  after  Roland,  he  said, 
with  the  mien  of  one  speaking  to  a  person 
who  has  been  ill  and  is  just  convalescent, 
that  Roland  was  in  the  park,  and  Manna 
must  go  with  them,  and  greet  the  ladies  and 
Herr  von  Pranken. 

When  her  father  mentioned  this  name, 
a  slight  shudder  went  over  Manna,  but  she 
said  with  immediate  composure,  — 

"  I  will  see  no  one  but  you  and  Roland." 

A  lay-sister  was  sent  for  Roland.  Mean- 
while, Manna  explained,  that,  according  to 
the  regulations,  she  must  return  .for  a  year 
to  the  world,  and  then  —  she  hesitated  a! 


moment,  and  ended  with  the  words 


if  he 


present  resolution  continued,  she  would 
take  the  veil. 

"And  will  you  never  tell  me,  why  and 
how  this  thought  has  sprung  up  in  you  ?  " 
asked  Sonnenkamp  in  a  supplicating  tone. 

"Indeed  1  will,  father,  when  it  is  all 
over." 

• '  I  don't  comprehend  !  I  don't  compre- 
hend it !  "  cried  Sonnenkamp  aloud.  Man- 
na hushed  the  loud  tone  of  her  father  with 
her  hand,  signifying  to  him  that  here  in  the 
convent  no  one  spoke  so  loud. 

Roland,  after  whom  they  had  been  look- 
ing for  a  long  time,  was  terrified  and  shrank 
back,  when,  awakened  suddenly  by  a  form 
clothed  in  black,  he  found  himself  in  the 
church.  «He  was  conducted  to  Manna.  He 


embraced  his  sister  heartily,  crying  out,  — 
"  You  good,  bad  sister !  " 

He  could  say  no  more,  from  the  impetu- 
osity of  his  feelings. 

"  Not  so  violent,"  said  the  maiden, 
soothingly.  "-Indeed!  what  a  strong  lad 
you  have  got  to  be  !  11 

"And  you  so  tall!  And  you  look  like 
him,  but  Eric  is  handsomer  than  you  are. 
Yes,  laugh  if  you  will !  Isn't  it  so,  mother  ? 
Isn't  it,  father  ?  Ah,  how  glad  he  will  be 
when  you  return  home,  and  how  much  you 
will  like  him  too  !  " 

Roland  talked  sometimes  of  St.  Anthony, 
sometimes  of  Eric,  mingling  them  together, 
and  telling  what  an  excellent  man  he  had 
for  a  teacher  and  friend  ;  and  when  Manna 
said  that  she  should  not  go  home  until 
spring,  Roland  ended  by  saying,  — 

"You  can  very  well  imagine  how  Herr 
Eric  looks  ;  when  you  go  into  the  chapel, 
look  at  St.  Anthony,  he  looks  exactly  like 
him,  exactly  as  good.  But  he  can  also  be 
strict ;  he  has  been  an  artillery-officer." 

Again  the  father  made  the  request,  and 
the  mother  joined  in  it,  that  Manna  would 
accompany  them  in  their  journey  to  the 
baths,  after  which  she  would  be  allowed  to 
come  back  to  the  convent. 

Manna  informed  them  that  she  could  not 
interrupt  her  studies  and  her  retreat. 

The  strange,  thrilling  tone  of  her  voice 
had  something  saddening  in  it,  and  when  she 
now  stated  how  earnestly  she  hoped  to  be- 
come clear  and  resolute  in  her  determina- 
tion to  be  constant  to  the  religious  life, 
tears  came  into  her  mother's  eyes.  But 
her  father  gazed  fixedly  at  her ;  he  hardly 
saw  his  child,  hardly  knew  where  he  was. 
He  heard  a  voice,  which  once  —  it  seemed 
incredible  that  he  was  the  same  person  — he 
had  heard  many,  many  years  ago ;  and  as 
he  thus  gazed,  he  saw  not  his  child,  not  the 
scenes  around  him,  he  saw  nothing  but  a 
neglected  little  mound  of  earth  in  the 
churchyard  of  a  Polish  village.  He  passed 
his  broad  hand  over  his  whole  face,  and.  as 
if  waking  up,  he  looked  now  at  his  child, 
and  heard  her  saying,  — 

"  I  shall  be  constant  to  the  life." 
He  had  heard  all  that  had  here  trans- 
pired, and  yet  his  thought  and  his  internal 
eye  had  been  fixed  upon  a  far  distant  scene, 
scarcely  comprehensible.  Now  he  repeated 
his  request  that  Manna  would  just  go  with 
them  into  the  park,  and  salute  the  friends  ; 
that  she  ought  not  to  slight  them;  but 
Manna  firmly  persisted  that  she  could  not 
go. 

Manna  had  requested  a  sister  to  send  for 
Heimchen ;  the  child  came,  and  looked 
wonderingly    at    the    strangers.  Manna 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ointed  out  to  the  child  her  parents  and  her ! 
rother.  The  child,  scarcely  glancing  at  j 
the  parents,  nestled  up  to  Roland,  when 
Manna  said,  — 

"  This  is  my  brother  I  have  told  you  of." 
"I  like  you,'1  said  the  child,  "I  like 
you." 

She  was  as  confiding  with  Roland  as  if 
she  had  always  played  with  him.  "And 
will  you  be  my  brother?"  asked  the  child. 

Manna  delared  how  happy  it  made  her,  to 
be  able  to  do  so  much  for  the  child. 

Sonnenkamp  hummed  to  himself,  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  the  way.  I  know  what 
you  are,  a  child  who  takes  to  a  stranger 
child.    But  enough  !  " 

He  rose  hastily. 

The  parents  and  Roland  left  the  cell. 
Manna  remained  there  with  Heimchen. 

Upon  the  steps,  Sonnenkamp  said  to  his 
wife,  — 

"This  is  your  doing!  The  child  is  es- 
tranged from  me ;  you  have  turned  her  heart 
from  me,  you  have  said  to  her  " 

A  strange  laugh,  a  laugh  sounding  as  if 
it  came  from  some  other  person,  was  uttered 
by  Frau  Ceres.  Roland  stared  at  her; 
here  is  something  incomprehensible  to  him. 

The  parents  and  the  boy  rejoined,  the 
visitors  in  the  park,  and  Sonncnkamp  in- 
formed them  very  calmly  that  he  had  given 
permission  to  his  daughter,  in  order  not  to 
interrupt  and  disturb  her  education  by  out- 
side impressions,  to  remain  at. the  convent 
until  Easter.  Pranken  darted  a  strange 
glance  at  Sonnenkamp,  and  then  expressed 
his  admiration  of  the  imperturbable  compo- 
sure with  which  Sonnenkamp  accomplished 
everything. 

Bella  and  Fräulein  Perini  had  walked 
over  the  island.  They  did  not  return  for 
a  long  time ;  at  last  they  came  from  the 
room  of  the  Superior. 

Evening  was  approaching,  and  as  they 
embarked  on  the  boat,  Roland  cried,  look- 
ing towards  the  convent,  — 

"  Good-night,  Manna." 

Manna  had •  heard  the  good-bye,  she  had 
slipped  into  the  park,  taken  a  farewell  look 
at  the  departing  visitors,  and*  then  went 
quietly  into  the  chapel. 

As  they  reached  the  shore,  they  heard 
the  choir  of  girls'  voices  singing  with  clear 
tone  at  the  convent. 

"This  may  sound  very  fine  to  him  who 
has  no  child  joining  in  it,"  said  Sonnen- 
kamp to  himself. 

In  the  large  inn  there  was  hurrying  and 
commotion,  as  if  a  prince  had  arrived  with 
his  suite,  for  Sonnenkamp  was  fond  of 
making  a  display  of  his  wealth.  The  large 
garden  was  festively  illuminated,  this  party  I 


165 

j  of  travellers  was  served  with  special  con- 
sideration, and  every  other  arrival,  on  this 
evening,  hardly  received  any  attention. 
When  all  was  still,  a  boat,  in  which  Pran- 
ken sat,  rowed  over  to  the  convent.  He 
landed  on  the  island,  and  heard  the  music 
of  a  harp  from  an  open  window.  That 
came  from  Manna,  he  was  sure.  Soon  a 
light  was  visible  in  a  cell,  here  and  there, 
windows  were  opened,  the  heads  of  girls 
appeared  and  looked  out  once  more  into 
the  night ;  then  the  windows  were  closed, 
the  lights  extinguished,  and  the  harp-play- 
ing ceased. 

Pranken  saw  the  church  open,  and  enter- 
ing, he  knelt  down  and  prayed  silently. 
Then  he  heard  a  light  step,  and  a  sound,  as 
if  some  one  knelt  down  before  the  altar ;  a 
thrill  passed  over  him,  and  yet  he  did  not 
look  up,  and  if  he  had,  he  could  not  have 
recognized  any  thing  in  the  darkness 
lighted  only  by  the  solitary,  ever-burning 
lamp.  The  form  arose,  and  went  towards 
the  open  church  door.  The  moon  cast  a 
broad  beam  as  far  as  the  middle  aisle  of  the 
church ;  now,  as  the  form  stood  in  the  door- 
way, Pranken  approached  and  said,  — 

"Fräulein  Manna,  a  friend.  Fear  not, 
a  man,  who  through  you  has  known  salva- 
tion, stands  before  you.  I  have  not  come 
to  shake  your  holy  resolve,  I  have  only 
come  to  tell  you  what  I  have  become  by 
your  instrumentality.  No,  I  cannot  tell 
you  —  but  you  ought  to  know  this,  —  if 
you  take  the  veil,  then  I  also  will  renounce 
the  world ;  apart  from  each  other,  so  long 
as  we  live  on  this  earth,  we  will  live  for 
heaven.  Farewell,  a  thousand  times  fare- 
well, thou  pure,  thou  blessed  one!  fare- 
well !  " 

The  young  man  and  the  maiden  looked  i 
upon  each  other  as  if  they  were  no  longer 
living  creatures  of  human  passions,  as  if 
they  were  transported  above  the  world. 
Manna  could  not  utter  a  single  word ;  she 
simply  dipped  her  hand  into  the  vessel  of 
holy  water,  and  sprinkled  Pranken's  face 
three  times. 

With  hasty  step,  Pranken  went  to  the 
shore.  Manna  stood  and  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  brow. 

Has  all  this  been  only  a  vision  of  her  own 
fancy  ? 

Then  she  heard  the  stroke  of  oars  in  the 
river,  and  a  voice  again  cried :  — 
"  Thou  pure,  thou  blessed  one  ! " 
Then  all  was  still. 

On  the  other  side  a  chain  rattled,  the 
boat  was  drawn  up  to  the  shore,  and  no 
sound  was  heard;  only  the  waves  of  the 
river,  which  are  not  heard  by  day,  rippled 
I  and  plashed  and  murmured  in  the  still 


166 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON   THE  KHINE. 


night.  Mauna  thought  that  she  could  hear 
the  blood  as  it  flowed  through  her  heart,  so 
full,  so  oppressed,  and  yet  so  blissful. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
A  DAY  WITHOUT  PEN  OR  TYPE. 

Eric  stood  on  the  shore  gazing  after  the 
boat,  from  which  Roland  was  waving  at  a 
distance  his  white  handkerchief*  To  see  a 
person  so  attached  to  us  flitting  away  from 
us  in  a  vessel,  seems  as  if  one  should  love  a 
bird  which  soars  freely  up  into  the  air 
where  it  cannot  be  reached ;  and  yet  it  is 
different.  Human  love  connects  by  invisi- 
ble ties,  and  this  signalizing  from  afar  is  a 
sign  of  a  thought  in  common,  of  communi- 
cation of  feeling  and  participation  of  in- 
terest, notwithstanding  all  separation  by 
space. 

When  the  boat  had  disappeared,  and 
only  a  light  streak  of  vapor  floated  along 
the  vine-covered  slopes,  Eric  remained 
standing  upon  the  hill,  and  as  the  faint  mists 
hovered  in  the  air,  so  hovered  in  his  soul 
the  last  words  of  Roland's  farewell, — "  You 
and  the  house  do  not  move  from  your 
place.1' 

What  a  commotion,  what  an  upheaving 
and  swelling,  there  is  in  the  soul  of  youth, 
until  it  comes  to  some  expression,  like  an 
opening  blossom  ! 

But  that  which  is  closed  and  wrapped  up 
in  the  bud  has  an  equal  beauty  and  depth 
of  sentiment,  but  it  is  not  manifest  to  us, 
and  does  not  breathe  upon  us  with  such  a 
fragrant  and  charming  loveliness. 

So  thought  Eric  as  he  looked  at  an  aca- 
cia-tree, whose  buds  were  yet  unopened, 
and  which  had  put  forth  not  even  a  green 
leaf. 

Eric  was  now  alone  at  the  villa.  He  in- 
haled the  quiet,  the  peace,  and  the  stillness 
in  full  draughts,  as  if,  after  long  days  and 
nights  of  travel  upon  the  noisy  steam-cars, 
he  should  suddenly  come  into  the  silent 
woods  ;  yes,  as  if  he  were  lying  deep  down 
at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  and  over  him 
were  gently  rippling  the  cooling  waves. 
He  did  not  read,  he  did  not  write,  he  en- 
joyed only  an  unfathomable  rest. 

He  did  not  mean  to  comply  with  Clodwig's 
invitation  to  visit  him,  until  the  next  day. 
Eric  was  certainly  removed  from  all  sel- 
fishness, but  the  freedom  of  living  for  a 
whole  day  without  being  called  upon  to 
talk,  and  of  being  entirely  by  himself,  had 
a  charm  for  him  as  if  he  had  now,  for  the 
first  time,  escaped  out  of  the  captivity  of 
servitude,  and  acquired  the  disposal  of 
himself.    The  thought  came  over  him  at 


one  time,  that  Clodwig  was  expecting  him' 
but  he  said  almost  aloud,  — 

"  I  cannot !  —  I  must  not !  "  He  wished 
to  pass  a  single  day  without  speaking  or 
being  spoken  to,  to  be  by  himself,  alone, 
speechless,  solitary,  referring  to  no  one, 
and  no  one  referring  to  him. 

He  thought,  for  one  moment,  of  writing 
to  his  mother,  but  he  dismissed  the  idea. 
No  one  was  to  have  anything  of  him,  he 
would  have  all  of  himself.  This  perpetual 
obligation  to  think  for  others,  this  striving 
for  them  and  love  to  them,  seemed  to  him 
a  painful  and  keen  suffering ;  there  was 
now,  in  the  depths  of  his  soul,  a  call 
for  solitude.  For  a  single  day  only  would 
he  be  an  egoist,  live  in  absolute  rest,  and 
let  no  book,  no  relation  of  life,  no  longing, 
no  endeavor,  deprive  him  of  aught  of  this 
entire  loneliness. 

This  villa  was  called  Eden,  and  he 
would,  for  one  day,  be  the  first  man  alone 
in  Eden.  He  looked  at  a  tree  and  nodded 
to  it.  Fixed  thus,  abiding  in  himself,  like 
this  tree,  would  he  live  for  just  a  single 
day. 

He  lay  down  in  the  park  under  a  spread- 
ing beech-tree,  and  dreamed  away  the  day. 
There  is  a  low,  gladsome  rippling  of  being 
and  of  feeling,  without  definite  thought  or 
volition,  which  is  the  inmost  desire  of  those 
harassed  with  restless  thought  and  anxious 
care.  Eric  lay  thus,  happy  in  himself,  con- 
templating and  breathing  alone,  so  that  the 
step  of  a  gardener  upon  the  grating  gravel 
aroused  him  as  from  a  dream.  The  gar- 
dener began  to  rake  the  path ;  it  was  a 
strangely  harsh  sound.  Eric  would  have 
liked  to  bid  him  keep  still,  but  he  forbore, 
and  said  to  himself,  smiling,  — 

"Thou  art  just  such  a  raker  of  the 
paths." 

He  looked  into  the  branches  of  the  trees, 
and  as  the  gentle  breeze  moved  them  to 
and  fro,  so  he  allowed  his  thoughts  to  be 
swayed  hither  and  thither,  with  no  desire, 
no  conscious  endeavor, — simply  living.  All 
was  peaceful  and  silent  within  him.  How 
long,  ever  since  its  first  shooting  forth,  has 
such  a  leaf*  been  moved  by  the  wind  the 
whole  summer  long,  until  it  drops,  and 
then  —  well,  then  ? 

A  smile  passed  over  his  countenance. 
We  are  no  longer  alone,  because  there  is  a 
second  self,  and  one  is  conscious  of  his  own 
unconsciousness.  And  the  thought  pro- 
ceeded farther.  Yes,  solitude,  this  is  the 
rest  upon  the  mother-earth,  this  is  the 
story  of  Antasus,  who  is  inspired  with 
fresh  strength  from  the  ever-present  ener- 
gies of  mother-earth,  as  soon  as  he  touches 
her.    We  are  raised  from  the  ground  by 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


167 


our  constant  thinking,  and  so  are  rendered 
powerless.  And  farther  yet  went  his  dream- 
ing and  meditation.  This  is  one  trouble 
of  wealth,  this  is  its  curse,  that  it  does  not 
enter  into  the  heavens,  cannot  again  be 
immersed  in  the  primitive  might  of  earthly 
being,  for  wealth  possesses  everything  ex- 
cept this,  a  deliverance  from  the  world,  a 
being  alone  with  one's  self.  Ballast !  bal- 
last !  too  much  ballast  ! 

The  doctor's  word  came  into  his  mind, 
and  the  word  ballast  again  and  again  re- 
curred to  his  thoughts,  just  as  the  finch  in 
the  tree  over  his  head  continually  repeated 
the  same  notes. 

In  the  midst  of  this  dreaming  and  unlim- 
ited contemplation  he  fell  asleep,  and  when 
he  waked  up,  he  was  invigorated  and  full 
of  a  fresh  life ;  for  the  first  time,  since  a 
long  period,  he  felt  at  home  within  himself. 
He  smiled,  for  a  new  thought  occurred  to 
him,  and,  as  it  were,  shone  through  him. 
Adam  slept  in  Paradise,  and  when  he  waked, 
he  saw  his  wife  by  his  side ;  a  world  is  his, 
and  also  another  who  is  to  become  one 
with  him. 

It  was  one  of  those  days  and  hours 
in  which  all  the  past  and  the  present,  all 
that  humanity  has  ever  dreamed  and  ever 
obtained  for  itself  by  toil,  bright  with  a  re- 
flected glory,  and  gleaming  in  its  own  splen- 
dor, stands  before  the  eyes.  All  riddles 
seem  solved.  All  is  peaceful,  harmonious, 
and  divine. 

So  must  it  be  to  the  thoughtful  man 
when  he  awakens  from  the  sleep  of  death, 
and  the  eternal  life  opens  to  his  view. 

But  the  struggle  must  be  entered  upon 
anew,  in  order  to  maintain  the  battle  of  life. 

Eric  went  into  the  park  and  around  the 
house,  and  took  in  all  with  newly  opened 
eyes  ;  he  had  forgotten  how  all  looked,  it 
had  been  put  far  away,  and  now  he  surveyed 
everything  like  a  man  newly  awakened  and 
endowed  with  fresh  strength. 

It  is  well  that  the  world  abides,  and  is 
always  ready  in  its  place  when  we  return  to 
it  again  from  the  sphere  of  unconscious 
forgetfulness. 

A  whole  day  passed,  in  which  Eric  read 
nothing  and  wrote  nothing. 

The  next  morning,  ordering  his  horse  to 
be  saddled,  he  mounted  and  rode  towards 
Clodwig's  house. 

He  had  scarcely  been  riding  fifteen  min- 
utes, when  a  boy  called  to  him,  and 
brought  him  a  letter.  He  read  it,  nodded, 
and  rode  in  good  spirits  to  the  village. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
OUR  FRIEND  KNOPF. 

On  the  bright  summer  days  people  sail 
joyously  up  and  down  the  river,  everything 
sparkles  and  glitters  in  the  sunlight,  and  is 
full  of  gladness.  Who  there  thinks  how 
much  sorrow,  how  much  weariness,  an- 
guish, and  care,  dwell  within  the  houses 
they  pass  by  ?  Look  yonder  at  the  high- 
perched  village,  that  seems  to  rise  so  pret- 
tily out  of  the  river,  and  sends  to  us  now 
the  sound  of  bells ;  there  goes  a  poor  vil- 
lage schoolmaster,  with  depressed  counte- 
nance, from  the  church  to  the  school-house. 
But  to-day  his  face  is  lighted  up,  for  a 
faithful  friend  stands  in  front  of  the  school- 
house,  and  extends  to  him  his  hand. 

"Hey!  you  here,  Herr  Knopf?"  cried 
the  schoolmaster. 

"  The  free  Republic  of  the  United  States 
gives  me  a  day's  freedom.  You  see  before 
you  an  independent  man.  Ah,  dear  Fass- 
bender,  I  am  specially  born  to  be  a  teacher 
of  girls  ;  I  tell  you  that  previous  to  the  del- 
uge of  their  first  ball,  girls  are  the  choicest 
blossoms  of  our  planet." 

Knopf  related  to  his  fellow-teacher  how 
happy  he  was  to  have  for  a  pupil  a  bright 
American  girl,  quick  of  apprehension  ;  and 
his  homely  countenance,  as  he  spoke,  as- 
sumed a  wholly  different  expression. 

Knopf  had,  in  fact,  an  ugly  face,  it  was 
so  full  of  seams.  His  nose,  mouth,  brow, 
even  his  eyebrows,  which  projected  some- 
what over  his  light-blue  eyes  whenever  he 
wore  no  spectacles,  as  was  now  the  case,  all 
seemed  kneaded  out  of  dough.  But  now, 
as  he  spoke  of  his  pupil,  his  countenance 
was  lighted  up. 

He  made  known  that  he  had  come  hither, 
in  order  to  give  Roland's  present  instructor 
some  hints  concerning  the  character  of  his 
pupil,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  could 
best  be  advanced.  He  had  already  been 
walking  since  before  sunrise,  and  it  was  a 
refreshing  walk.  He  felt  now  that  it  was 
not  needful  for  him  to  go  to  the  villa,  he 
would  make  an  appointment  with  the  tutor 
to  meet  him  here,  and  requested  that  a  boy 
might  carry  a  note  from  him  to  Captain 
Dournay. 

The  children  came  up  one  after  another, 
and  saluted  Herr  Knopf,  whom  they  already 
knew.  A  curly-headed  boy  was  very  happy 
to  be  the  bearer  of  the  note  to  Villa  Eden, 
instead  of  being  obliged  to  sit  in  school. 

Knopf  knew  a  beautiful  spot  back  of  the 
village,  under  a  linden  on  the  crown  of  the 
hill,  where  there  was  a  wide  prospect  on 
every  side.    Strolling  thither,  he  laid  him- 


168 


THE  COUNTRY-IIOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


self  down  under  the  tree,  and  surveyed  the 
landseape  with  a  joyful  glanee. 

"  In  grass  and  flowers  I  love  to  lie, 
And  hear  afar  the  flute's  sweet  sigh," 

he  said  almost  aloud  to  himself.  And  since 
in  our  steam-puffing  times  there  is  no  flute 
to  be  heard,  Knopf  screwed  his  cane,  which 
was  intended  also  for  a  flute,  into  the  right 
shape,  and  played  upon  it  the  tune  set  by 
Conrad  Kreuzer  toUhland's  song.  He  was 
more  pleased  at  the  thought  that  others 
would  hear  this  at  a  distance,  than  that  he 
was  hearing  it  himself. 

No  boat  went  up  or  down  the  stream  that 
he  did  not  signalize  it  with  a  white  hand- 
kerchief. What  matter  if  those  on  board 
were  strangers  ?  He  has  given  them  a  sign 
that  he  on  the  height  here  is  happy ;  they 
below  there  are  to  be  happy  too.  The  sig- 
nal may  tell  them  that. 

Yes,  Knopf  deserves  to  be  known  more 
intimately. 

The  son  of  a  poor  schoolmaster,  Knopf 
had  gone  through  his  university  course  with 
great  difficulty,  and  had  passed  his  exam- 
ination ;  but  now  he  fell  into  great  misfor- 
tune. On  the  very  first  day  of  his  year  of 
probation,  the  boys  stamped  and  hissed, 
and  the  more  he  bade  them  be  quiet,  so 
much  the  more  noisy  were  they ;  and  the 
more  enraged  he  became,  so  much  the  more 
insolent  was  their  derision.  The  director 
came  to  his  assistance,  but  as  soon  as  he 
went  away  from  the  schoolroom,  the  noise 
and  stamping  began  afresh.  It  was  granted 
to  Knopf  to  pass  his  year  of  probation  in  a 
distant  city ;  but  some  invisible  sprite  must 
have  spread  abroad  his  mishap,  for  very 
soon  after  he  began  teaching,  the  same 
thing  happened  here.  And  now  he  gave 
up  entirely  the  office  of  a  public  school 
teacher. 

Knopf  was  abundantly  liked  at  the  capi- 
tal as  a  teacher  of  girls.  Inasmuch  as  he 
was  so  fabulously  ugly,  mothers  could  en- 
trust their  half-grown  daughters  to  his  pri- 
vate instruction,  without  the  least  anxiety 
lest  they  should  fall  in  love  with  him.  He 
was  conscientious  and  painstaking,  but  he 
did  not  succeed.  He  was  liked  in  all  the 
families,  but  no  one  wished  to  employ  him 
exclusively,  or  for  any  considerable  length 
of  time  ;  he  was  only  a  temporary  teacher. 
No  other  one  had  so  many  deceased  schol- 
ars as  he,  for  many  were  committed  to  his 
instruction  only  after  they  became  ailing. 

Knopf  had  been  much  at  the  watering- 
places,  and  when  the  parents  could  not  go 
with  their  children  to  the  baths,  he  was  en- 
trusted with  that  service  ;  he  was  both  tutor 
and  attendant.    He  was  also  teacher  for 


some  time  in  an  asylum  for  idiots,  and  his 
conscience  often  reproved  him,  then  and 
afterwards,  for  not  remaining  in  that  posi- 
tion ;  but  he  asserted  that  he  was  too  much 
a  devotee  of  the  beautiful. 

Yes,  he  wanted  to  explore  what  kind  of 
humane  institutions  were  established  among 
the  Greeks  and  Romans.  Pie  found  that 
they  had  very  few  children  morally  and 
physically  diseased.  Knopf  had  a  plan, 
which  he  held  on  to  for  some  time,  of  es- 
tablishing an  institution  for  the  care  of  sick 
children  at  some  salt-spring ;  for  iodine  is 
the  watch-word  of  the  cultivated,  that  is, 
the  possessing  world,  whose  humours  are 
acrid :  he  hoped  to  find  an  associate  for  the 
sacred  iodine.  Meanwhile  he  remained  a 
make-shift  teacher  for  girls. 

Greek  and  Roman  mythology  was  his 
strong  point,  and  it  is  extremely  important 
that  a  maiden  in  cultivated  society  should 
make  no  mistake  in  that.  His  favorite  pur- 
suit was,  however,  the  interpretation  of  the 
poets,  especially  the  romantic.  Of  course, 
he  was  himself  a  poet,  but  modestly,  only 
to  himself.  There  were  probably  in  the 
capital  few  albums,  begun  by  very  young 
girls  and  afterwards  abandoned,  which  did 
not  contain  a  sonnet,  or  oftener  a  triolet, 
beautifully  written  by  Emil  Knopf  for  his 
dear  pupil.  He  had  also  a  musical  knowl- 
edge sufficient  to  direct  the  private  practis- 
ing of  pupils,  and  he  was  particularly  strict, 
yes,  even  unmerciful,  in  keeping  time.  He 
could  also  draw  sufficiently  well  to  give  as- 
sistance in  that  respect,  especially  in  draw- 
ing flowers.  He  was  also  handy  and  popu- 
lar in  wedding-games,  whenever  one  of  his 
pupils  was  married.  He  not  only  knew 
how  to  make  the  maidens  speak  in  the 
language  of  flowers,  as  "I  am  the  rose," 
"I  am  the  violet,"  but  he  could  bring  out 
jokes  and  sportive  allusions  ;  and  while  the 
players  in  their  fine  dresses  were  declaim- 
ing, and  forming  charming  tableaux,  he  sat 
in  the  prompter's  box,  and  breathed  to 
them  the  words.  How  happy  he  was,  too, 
at  some  public  dinner,  and  how  assentingly 
he  nodded,  when  this  or  the  other  speaker 
recited  by  heart,  or  read  from  a  manuscript, 
the  toast  he  had  himself  composed  ! 

Emil  Knopf  was  one  of  the  most  service- 
able of  men ;  he  was  proud  of  never  having 
advertised  in  the  newspapers ;  he  was 
recommended  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and 
for  the  most  part  from  one  fair  mouth  to 
another,  one  mother  speaking  in  his  com- 
mendation to  another,  and  the  fathers  smil- 
ing and  saying,  "Yes,  Herr  Knopf  is  a  very 
conscientious  teacher." 

If  he  were  in  a  house  where  smoking  was 
disagreeable,  he  chewed  roasted  coffee- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


169 


berries,  and  he  was  jüst  as  contented  with 
that.  Knopf  liked  to  take  snurff,  but  he  did 
it  only  when  he  was  alone,  and  very  quietly  ; 
he  carried  a  colored  and  a  white  pocket- 
handkerchief,  so  that  the  gentleman  and  the 
lady  of  the  house  might  not  notice  that  he 
took  snuff.  One  very  peculiar  habit  he 
could  not  Dreak  himself  of,  that  of  hitching 
up  the  trousers  on  both  legs,  as  if  they  were 
going  suddenly  to  drop  down  from  his 
body. 

But  this  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  his 
appearing  destined  to  be  only  a  temporary 
teacher,  nothing  but  a  pedagogical  nurse 
for  a  few  weeks.  Knopf  is  taken  into  some 
family  until  the  stress  of  sickness  or  need 
of  some  kind  is  over,  and  then  he  is  dis- 
missed with  very  courteous,  very  friendly 
words ;  but  still  always  dismissed.  Four- 
teen half-yearly  terms  —  Knopf  always 
reckoned  by  the  semester,  and  we  must  do 
the  same  by  him  —  Knopf  lived  at  the  capi- 
tal ;  and,  during  this  period,  he  always 
intended  to  procure  a  wholesale  quantity  of 
a  brand  of  cigars  which  should  taste  right, 
but  he  never  made  up  his  mind.  Fourteen 
semesters  he  smoked,  from  week's  end  to 
week's  end,  different  kinds  of  cigars  on 
trial,  and  was  perpetually  asking  what  was 
the  price  by  the  thousand,  but  he  never  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  the  thousand  at  one  time. 

Knopf  was,  naturally,  one  of  the  clumsi- 
est of  mortals,  but  he  trained  himself  to  be 
one  of  the  best  swimmers  and  gymnastic  per- 
formers, so  that  he  was,  for  a  time,  assistant 
teacher  of  gymnastics.    Having  been  era- 

f)loyed  twice  in  the  country,  where  it  is  so  dif- 
icult  to  procure  piano-tuners,  he  hadbeenled 
to  learn  how  to  tune  pianos  himself;  but  he 
would  never  do  it  except  in  the  house  where 
he  happened  to  be  temporarily  living.  Sev- 
eral persons  asserted  that  he  could  also 
knit  and  do  plain  sewing,  but  this  was  un- 
mitigated slander.  He  could  darn  stock- 
ings in  a  most  masterly  style,  but  no  one 
had  ever  seen  him  do  it,  he  always  did  it 
secretly  by  himself.  • 

Knopf  had  come  to  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
likewise  as  a  temporary  candidate  and  tem- 
porary teacher ;  here  a  longer  tarrying 
seemed  to  be  allotted  to  him,,  and  a  future 
free  from  anxiety.  Knopf  had  an  enthusias- 
tic love  for  Roland,  and  although  the  boy 
learned  nothing  thoroughly  with  him,  Knopf 
used  to  say  to  his  crony,  the  teacher  Fass- 
bender,  — 

"  The  Gods  never  learned  anything, 
they  had  it  all  in  themselves.  Who  can 
tell  us  the  name  of  Apollo's  teacher  of 
music,  or  with  what  chief-butler  Ganymede 
served  his  apprenticeship  ?  Fine  natures 
have  all  in  themselves,  and  do  not  require 


instruction.  We  are  only  cripples  with  all 
our  learning  ;  we  are  tvrannized  over  by  .the 
four  Faculties,  but  life  is  no  four-sided 
figure." 

This,  then,  is  our  friend  Knopf;  and  he 
was  called  "  our  friend  Knopf"  in  the  best 
families  of  the  land. 

Knopf  had  just  left  off  playing  the  flute, 
and  was  now  sitting  with  his  writing-tablets 
upon  his  knee,  looking  sometimes  round 
upon  the  landscape,  sometimes  writing 
rapidly  a  few  words ;  then  he  would  put  his 
pencil  in  his  mouth,  and  seemed  ruminating 
for  some  new  turn  of  expression.  One 
could  see  the  road  for  a  great  distance, 
leading  from  the  village,  by  the  villa,  to  the 
neighboring  hamlet.  Now  Knopf  saw  a 
man  on  horseback  coming  towards  him. 
He  transformed  speedily  his  flute  into  a 
walking-stick  again,  concealed  his  tablets, 
and  then  hastened  across  the  vineyard  down 
to  the  highway. 

"Yes,  he  who  sits  a  horse  so  well,  he  is 
just  the  right  teacher  for  him,"  said  Knopf. 
He  took  off  his  hat ;  while  still  at  a  distance, 
the  rider  nodded  to  him. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  WALK  IN  THE  OPEN  AIR. 

The  rider  approached,  and  was  soon  by 
the  side  of  Knopf,  who,  unable  to  utter  a 
word,  looked  in  surprise  at  the  noble 
figure.    Eric  said,  however,  — 

"  Have  I  the  honor  of  seeing  my  col- 
league, Herr  Knopf?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  he." 

Eric  swung  himself  quickly  from  the 
saddle,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said;  and  at  every 
word  which  he  spoke,  at  every  tone  of 
his  voice,  Knopf's  face  brightened ;  more 
and  more  knots  and  seams  showed  them- 
selves all  over  it,  as  Eric  continued,  — 

4 '  It  was  my  intention  to  visit  you  very 
soon ;  but  I  did  not  want  to  do  so,  until  I 
had  made  my  own  independent  observations 
on  all  sides." 

"Very  right,"  answered  Knopf,  "  every 
judgment  received  from  others  is  a  preju- 
dice." With  constantly  increasing  admira- 
tion, Knopf  looked  at  Eric,  saying, — and 
the  words  sounded  like  a  confession  of 
love,  — 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  really  a  hand- 
some man.  Ah,  you  may  smile  and  shake 
your  head,  but  that  counts  a  great  deal  in 
this  family,  and  especially  with  Roland. 
The  Spartans  had  the  wise  law,  —  horrible 
indeed,  but  embodying  a  deep  principle  — 
that  no  deformed  child  should  be  allowed  to 


170 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  KHINE. 


live.  All  men  ought  properly  to  be  hand- 
sorne." 

Eric  placed  his  hand  on  Knopfs  shoulder, 
unable  to  answer  a  word  ;  admiration  and  a 
desire  to  laugh  contended  within  him,  but 
admiration  conquered.  A  man  of  such 
an  appearance  must  have  overcome  much 
in  himself  to  be  able  to  express  himself  in 
this  way.  He  went  with  Knopf  to  the  vil- 
lage, telling  him  that  he  ought  to  have  come 
to  see  him  at  the  villa,  and  that  he  would 
have  found  him  quite  alone,  if  he  wished 
to  avoid  the  family,  for  they  had  gone  with 
Herr  von  Pranken  to  the  convent,  to  bring 
Manna  home. 

"  Ah,  poor  girl ! "  said  Knopf,  pityingly. 
"  I  can  venture  to  say,  that  I  have  already 
had  more  than  fifty  lovely  noble  maidens  as 
pupils,  and  not  one-half,  no,  not  one-quar- 
ter of  them  have  married  as  I  should  have 
wished.  Ah,  Herr  Colleague,  you  see  I 
have  never  in  my  life  repeated  in  one  house 
what  happened  in  another,  and  you  can 
understand  that  it  has  been  a  difficult  duty. 
Mothers  always  want  to  find  Out  what  goes 
on  here  and  there,  but  I  have  refrained,  on 
principle,  from  telling  anything.  Whoever 
gossips  to  me  will  gossip  about  me,  my 
mother  always  said.  I  have  taken  heed  of 
that,  and  so  have  got  on  very  well.11 

Eric  was  delighted  with  the  true-hearted 
man,  and  he  quickly  drove  away  the  thought 
that  Pranken  was  going  to  bring  the  rich 
bride  for  himself  from  the  convent.  What 
was  the  maiden  to  him  ? 

He  left  his  horse  at  the  village  inn,  and 
Knopf  conducted  him  to  a  spot  under  the 
lindens  oh  the  hill-top,  and  there  explained 
his  views  about  Roland. 

"  I  must,  like  a  child,"  he  began,  "tell 
you  of  my  last  observation,  and  my  last 
trouble.  You  are  not  in  a  hurry?  I  must 
honestly  confess  to  you,  that  nothing  in  our 
time  vexes  me  so  much,  as  to  find  people 
always  in  a  hurry." 

Eric  set  his  mind  at  rest,  by  telling  him 
that  he  had  the  whole  day  at  his  disposal, 
concluding,  — 

"  Now,  go  on.11 

"  Then  for  my  last  trouble.  As  I  walked 
hither  over  the  mountain,  past  the  forest- 
chapel  yonder,  all  was  fresh  with  dew, 
the  birds  were  singing  undisturbed,  heed- 
less of  the  ringing  of  the  matin  bell  in  the 
chapel  above,  and  of  the  railroad  bell  be- 
low. What  did  self-sufficing  nature,  in  this 
season  of  early  spring  love,  care  for  these 
sounds  ?  But  that  isn^  exactly  what  I 
meant  to  say  to  you,"  he  interrupted  him- 
self, placing  his  hand  upon  his  tablets,  which 
undoubtedly  contained  a  poem  in  this  strain. 
44  Only  this  —  as  I  was  walking  along  the 


wood-path,  I  heard  children^  voices,  clear 
and  merry,  and  a  mild  and  gentle  one 
seemed  to  have  control  over  them.  There 
came  up  the  mountain  a  beautiful  maiden  — 
no,  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  did  not  see  that 
she  was  beautiful  till  afterwards  —  l  was 
just  taking  it  comfortably,  and  had  removed 
my  spectacles  in  the  green  forest;  now 
1  put  them  on  again,  and  saw  first  some 
beautiful,  plump,  white  hands.  The  girl 
saw  me,  and  I  don^  know  what  she  may 
have  thought,  but  she  seemed  frightened, 
and  took  the  hand  of  her  oldest  brother,  a 
boy  of  thirteen  ;  two  younger  boys  were  fol- 
lowing her.  I  passed  them  with  a  greeting  ; 
the  maiden  made  only  a  slight  acknowledg- 
ment, but  the  boys  said  "  good-morning," 
aloud.  We  went  our  different  ways,  and 
I  looked  long  after  them. 

"  I  turned  back  to  the  chapel.  The  quiet 
and  order  reigning  there,  where  no  human 
beings  dwell,  everything  ready  for  their  de- 
votion, those  holy  vessels,  the  pictures,  the 
candles,  and  the  good  priest.  I  don^  be- 
lieve a  man  who  so  bows  down,  kneels,  and 
raises  his  hands  in  prayer,  can  be  wholly  a 
hypocrite ;  the  lowest  criminal  in  the  jail 
would  be  an  angel  compared  with  him. 
The  sermon  itself  was  only  a  milk-and-water 
affair.  But  would  you  believe  it  ?  my  real 
reason  for  going  back  had  been  a  wish  to 
see  the  maiden  again,  but  I  felt  ashamed  of 
having  entered  the  church  from  such  a  mo- 
tive, and  I  slipped  out  on  tip-toe.  And 
then  all  personal  feeling  dropped  from  me, 
and  the  great  trouble  came  over  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  trouble  caused  by  our  freedom  op- 
pressed me.  The  girl,  hardly  out  of  school, 
walks,  in  the  fresh  morning,  through  the 
mountain  wood  with  her  three  young  broth- 
ers, and  they  wander  to  the  forest  chapel, 
whence  the  bell  calls  to  them.  Think,  if 
these  four  young  creatures  had  had  no  such 
goal  for  their  morning  walk,  none  so  safe 
and  beautiful,  what  would  it  have  been  ?  a 
walk  in  the  open  air,  nothing  more  !  In  the 
open  air  —  what  is  that  ?  It  is  nothing  and 
nowhere.  But  to  enter  a  firmly  founded 
temple,  where  the  .organ  is  sounding,  and 
holy  hymns  are  sung,  this  must  give  fresh 
life  to  the  youthful  souls,  and  they  bring 
home  from  their  morning  walk,  leading 
through  the  open  air,  to  a  fixed  goal,  a  wholly 
different  refreshment  for  their  spirits.  And 
up  there  a  divine  service  goes  on,  whether 
men  come  to  it  or  not ;  nothing  depends  on 
the  special  character  of  a  congregation,  nor 
on  the  particular  degree  of  culture  of  a  par- 
ticular man.  It  holds  its  course,  uncaring 
whether  it  is  received  or  not,  like  eternal 
nature ;  whoever  comes  may  take  part  in 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


171 


it;  no  one  asks,  no  one  need  know,  whence 
he  comes.  If  I  could  be  a  believer,  I  would 
be  a  Catholic,  or  a  Jew  of  the  old  faith. 
But  what  is  our  life  ?  a  walk  in  the  open 
air,  without  limit,  but  also  without  a  desti- 
nation !  You  see  that  I  cannot  but  be  sad, 
for  I  cannot  compel  myself  to  anything  dif- 
ferent, to  anything  positive.  And  as  it  is 
with  me,  so  is  it  with  this  age,  and  yet  we 
must  regain  something  different;  our  life 
ought  not  be  be  simply  a  walk  in  the  open 
air,  but  through  the  open  air  to  a  firm,  safe, 
home-like  destination  about  which  human 
spirits  may  gather.  xOh,  if  I  could  only  de- 
fine it,  seize  upon  it,  and  the  millions  of 
thirsting,  pining  human  souls  with  me ! 
And  do  you  know,"  Knopf  concluded,  "  then 
I  thought  of  you  and  Roland  ?  Do  you  now 
understand  me  ? 11 
"  Not  perfectly." 

"Ah,  I  have  been  too  vague  again. 
Plainly,  then,  this  has  been  and  is  now  my 
thought,  —  whither  can  you  lead  Roland  ? 
Into  the  open  air.  But  what  is  he  to  do 
there  ?  What  will  he  find  ?  What  will  he 
have  ?  What  will  restrain  or  draw  him  on- 
ward ?  That  is  the  point,  there  lies  the 
hard  riddle.  The  religion,  the  moral  fort- 
.  ress,  whither  we  have  to  lead  the  rich  youth, 
has  no  walls,  no  roof;  it  has  no  image,  no 
music,  no  consecrated  form  of  words  — 
there's  the  trouble  !  Do  I  make  it  clear  to 
you  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes, \  understand  you  perfectly," 
said  Eric,  seizing  the  hand  of  his  companion. 
"You  express  my  very  deepest  thoughts; 
I  hope,  though,  that  it  may  be  granted  us  to 
give  a  human  being  something  that  he  may 
hold  to  within  himself,  without  leaning  on 
any  outside  support.  Have  not  we  two, 
who  now  stand  here,  this  inward  hold  ?  " 

"I  believe  so,  or  rather,  I  am  sure  of 
it.  I  thank  you,  you  make  me  quite 
content,"  cried  Knopf,  with  animation. 
"  Ah,  world  !  here  we  sit,  and  look  off  into 
the  distance,  watching  for  some  sign,  some 
word,  which  may  penetrate  and  renew  all 
our  being;  it  comes  not  from  without,  it 
comes  only  from  within  ourselves.  And  in 
Roland  there  lies  a  complete  human  being, 
a  genuine,  primitive  nature,  in  spite  of  ali 
that  has  been  done  to  smother  it ;  he  has 
bold  presumption  and  wonderful  tenderness, 
at  the  same  time.  He  has  many  fine  feel- 
ings, but  youth  cannot  explain  its  feelings  ; 
if  it  could,  it  would  be  no  longer  youth. 
All  sorts  of  elements  exist  in  Roland,  but 
we  grown  people  cannot  understand  a  child's 
heart.  Let  us  ask  ourselves  whether,  in 
our  childhood,  our  best  friends  understood 
us  as  we  really  were.  You  will  accomplish 
this,  you  are  called  to  it." 


"  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  so.  A  great,  inscrutable  plan 
guides  all  existence  and  binds  it  together. 
A  wonderful  law  in  the  world,  which  some 
men  call  Providence,  others  fate,  decrees 
that  a  man  like  you  must  be  led  in  far-off 
paths,  through  various  callings,  and  armed 
for  his  work,  till  he  stands  ready  in  his  no- 
ble beauty.  Ah,  do  not  shake  your  head, 
let  me  go  on ;  it  is  a  holy  thought,  that  a 
mysterious  power,  which  we  must  name 
God,  has  led  you  hither  to  train  a  beautiful 
human  being,  an  Apollo-like  creature,  who 
is  to  have  nothing  to  do  in  the  world  but  to 
be  noble  and  to  feel  nobly.  I  did  not 
rightly  manage  Roland ;  I  sowed  before  I 
knew  whether  the  soil  was  prepared.  To- 
day, as  I  saw  a  man  raking  in  the  vine- 
yards, I  thought,  there  is  Copernicus." 

"  Copernicus  ?"  asked  Eric,  in  perplex- 
ity. 

"Understand  me  aright;  the  first  man 
who  dug  up  the  ground  with  pointed  stick, 
horn,  bone,  or  stone,  in  order  to  plant  seeds, 
he  moved  the  earth,  he  was  the  father  of 
our  culture,  as  Copernicus  at  last  discovered 
that  the  whole  planet  is  in  motion." 

"  What  do  you  think,  then,  is  now  to  be 
made  of  Roland  ?  "  said  Eric,  bringing  him 
back  to  the  subject. 

"  What  is  to  be  made  of  him  ?  A  noble 
man.  Is  it  not  a  mistaken  course  to  drive 
a  human  being  to  goodness,  by  the  sight  of 
all  sorts  of  misery  and  weakness  ?  That 
makes  him  morbid,  sentimental,  and  weak. 
The  Greeks  had  a  different  method,  that  of 
energy,  cheerfulness,  self-reliance,  —  that 
makes  him  strong.  Our  virtue  is  no  longer 
•  virtus,'  but  only  a  feminine  hospital-work. 
Ah,"  continued  Knopf,  "the  genuinely 
noble  man,  or  the  genuine  man,  is  the  un- 
examined man,  a  species  no  longer  to  be 
found  in  Europe.  We  are  all  born  to  be 
examined.  That  was  the  greatness  of  the 
Greek,  that  they  had  no  examination  com- 
missions. Plato  took  ho  degree,  and  do 
you  know,  that  is  the  greatness  which  is 
bringing  forward  a  new  Greece  in  America, 
that  there  also,  properly  speaking,  there  are 
no  examinations." 

"  Don't  wander  so  far,"  interposed  Eric. 

"  Yes,"  Knopf  went  on  unheeding,  "  Ro- 
land is  the  unexamined  human  being ;  he 
need  learn  nothing  in  order  to  be  ques- 
tioned about  it.  Why  must  every  modern 
man  become  something  special?  '  Civis 
Romanus  sum,"1  that  ought  to  be  sufficient.17 

Again  Eric  drew  him  back  from  his  di- 
gression, asking,  — 

' 4  Can  you  suggest  any  vocation  for  Ro- 
land ?  " 

"  Vocation  !   vocation !    The  best  that 


172 


THE  COUXTRY-IIOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


can  be  learned  is  not  found  in  any  plan  of 
study,  and  costs  no  school-fees.  The  divi- 
sion of  callings,  on  which  we  so  much  pride 
ourselves,  is  nothing  but  a  Philistine  tyran- 
ny, a  compulsory  virtue.  Common  natures 
return  payment  by  what  they  do,  noble 
ones  by  what  they  are.  Thus  it  is,  if  a 
noble  being  exists,  and  freely  acts  out  his 
nature,  he  adorns  humanity  and  benefits  it. 
I  have  tried  to  guard  in  Roland  a  simple 
unconsciousness  of  wealth ;  we  are  not 
placed  here  merely  to  train  ourselves  to  be 
brothers  of  mercy.  Not  every  one  need 
serve  ;  to  perfect  one's  self  is  a  noble  calling. 
I  respect  Cicero's  maxim  :  '  He  who  does 
nothing  is  the  free  man.'  The  free  man  is 
the  idler." 

Eric  disputed  this,  and  Knopf  was  no 
little  surprised,  that  Eric  had  the  exact  pas- 
sage from  Cicero  in  his  memory,  and  could 
prove  that  Cicero  only  made  the  assertion 
that  no  man  was  free  who  was  not  some- 
times idle :  non  aliquando  ftiliil  agit.  He 
said  besides  that  the  statement  of  the  Ger- 
man poet,  that  there  could  be  a  noble  life 
without  activity,  without  labor,  was  still 
more  an  error.  He  tried,  however,  to  put 
an  end  to  these  general  considerations. 
What  effect  could  their  thoughts  and  dis- 
cussions, as  they  sat  there  on  the  hi'i.-side, 
bring  about  concerning  the  vocation  of 
humanity  ? 

Knopf  remarked  assentingly  that  he  had 
wandered  too  far,  and  said,  — 

"You  ought  to  take  Roland  away  from 
here." 

"It  would  certainly  be  best,  but  you 
must  know  that  it  cannot  be  brought 
about." 

"Yes,  yes.  I  have  tormented  myself 
much  with  the  idea  whether  there  is  any 
possibility  of  making  Roland  imagine  him- 
self poor,  but,  if  a  negation  is  logically  sus- 
ceptible of  the  comparative  degree,  that  is 
still  more  impossible.  I  have  read,  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau's  Emile,  and  have  found 
much  that  is  good  in  it ;  I  have  also  studied 
the  treatise  on  Riches  which  is  ascribed  to 
Plato ;  and  in  Aristophanes  there  is  to  be 
found  deep  insight  into  poverty  and  wealth. 
If  you  will  sometime  come  to  Mattenheim,  I 
will  show  them  all  to  you." 

Eric  made  some  slight  inquiries  as  to  the 
causes  which  had  removed*  Knopf  from  the 
family,  but  Knopf  did  not  tell  him ;  he 
only  gave  him  to  understand  that  Roland 
had  been  led  astray  by  the  French  valet 
Armand,  who  had  since  been  dismissed 
from  the  house.  With  unusual  haste,  he 
then  left  the  subject,  and  said  that  he  had 
hesitated  about  coming  to  Eric,  but  Herr 


Weidmann  had  read  the  wish  in  his  face, 
and  had  encouraged  him  in  it. 

Eric  promised  soon  to  go  to  Mattenheim. 
Knopf  was  very  happy  to  hear  of  Roland's 
industry  and  obedience,  and  Eric  told  him 
how  from  the  life  of  Franklin  he  was  giv- 
ing him  not  only  a  personal  ideal,  but  also 
taking  occasion  to  lead  him,  as  they  studied 
Franklin's  course  of  education,  to  perceive, 
acknowledge,  and  supply  his  own  deficien- 
cies. 

"Do  you  know,"  exclaimed  Knopf, 
springing  up,  "  what  can  make  one  happier 
than  those  great  words  of  Archimedes,  — I 
have  found  it !  Still  more  blessed  are  the 
words,  Thou  hast  found  it !  Yes,  you  have 
found  it ! "  he  cried,  drawing  up  his  trous- 
ers ;  he  would  have  liked  to  embrace  Eric, 
but  he  did  not  venture. 

And  when  Eric  told  him  that  he  had  been 
drawn  to  this  most  simple  method  by  some 
notes  of  his  father's,  Knopf  exclaimed,  look- 
ing up  into  the  free  air,  — 

"  Blessings  on  thy  father!  Blessings  on  ' 
thee,  eternal  Spirit !  O  world,  how  great 
and  noble  thou  art !  Now  we  know  what 
one  becomes,  when  one  walks  in  the  open 
air;  one  grows  into  a,free  man,  a  Benjamin 
Franklin.  Here  are  two  people  on  a  hill- 
top by  the  Rhine,  and  they  send  a  greeting 
to  thee  in  eternity.  Ah,  pardon  me  !  "  said 
he,  "  I  am  not  generally  like  this,  you  may 
depend  upon  it.  But,  Herr  Captain,  if  you 
ever  desire  anything  great  and  difficult  of 
me,  remind  me  of  this  hour,  and  you  shall 
see  what  I  can  do." 

Eric  changed  the  subject  by  asking 
Knopf  to  tell  him  about  his  present  pupils. 

"Yes,"  said  Knopf,  "there  it  is  again. 
Her  parents  have  sent  the  child  to  Germany, 
because  there  was  danger  that  yonder,  in 
the  land  of  freedom,  her  spirit  would  be 
fettered,  for  Dr.  Fritz  and  his  wife  hold 
liberal  opinions  in  religion,  and  are  patterns 
of  nobility  of  mind.  The  child  was  in  an 
English  school,  and  after  the  first  half  year, 
she  began  to  wish  to  convert  her  parents, 
and  constantly  declared  her  determination 
to  become  a  Presbyterian.  She  wept  and 
prayed,  and  said  she  could  find  no  repose 
because  her  parents  were  so  godless.  Is 
not  this  a  most  noteworthy  phenomenon  ? 
Now  her  parents  have  sent  the  child  to  Ger- 
many, and  certainly  to  the  best  home  that 
could  be  found." 

Knopf  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket ;  it 
was  from  Dr.  Fritz,  who,  as  a  representa- 
tive of  German  manhood  and  philanthropy, 
was  busily  working  in  the  New  World  for 
the  eradication  of  that  shame  which  still 
rests  on  the  human  race  in  the  continuance 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


173 


of  slavery.  Dr.  Fritz  gave  the  teacher  an' 
exact  sketch  of  his  little  girl's  character, 
which  showed  great  impartiality  in  a  father. 
He  also  pointed  out  how  the  child  ought  to 
be  guided.  In  the  letter  there  was  a  photo- 
graph of  Dr.  Fritz,  a  substantial-looking 
man,  with  a  full  beard,  and  light,  crispy 
curling  hair ;  something  of  youthful,  even 
ideal  aspiration  spoke  in  the  expression  of " 
the  strong  and  manly  face. 

With  an  air  of  mystery  Knopf  then  con- 
fided to  Eric,  that  the  child  had  lived  in 
the  New  World  within  the  magic  circle  of 
Grimm's  tales,  and  it  was  strange  —  he 
could  not  find  out  whether  it  was  pure 
fancy  or  fact  —  but  the  child  had  had  an 
adventure  on  her  journey  that  seemed  to 
belong  to  a  fairy  tale. 

"  Her  name  is  Lilian,"  said  Knopf,  "and 
you  know  that  in  English  our  mayfiower  is 
called  the  lily  of  the  valley,  and  the  child 
received  a  mayflower  from  some  being  in 
the  wood  who  did  not  know  her  name.  A 
wonderful  story  she  has  woven  together  in 
her  little  blond  head,  for  she  constantly  in- 
sists that  she  has  seen  the  wood-prince." 

"  You  are  secretly  a  poet,'1  said  Eric. 

Involuntarily  Knopf's  hand  went  to  his 
breast-pocket,  where  his  tablets  lay  hidden, 
as  if  he  suspected  that  Eric  had  stolen  them 
from  him. 

"I  allow  myself  now  and  then  to  string 
averse  together;  but  don't  be  frightened, 
I've  never  troubled  any  one  else  with 
them." 

Eric  felt  cordially  attracted  towards  this 
man,  so  dry  in  Outward  apearance.  and  yet 
so  deeply  enthusiastic;  and  as  the  bells 
rang  again  in  the  village,  he  said,  — 

"Now  come  and  make  me  acquainted 
with  the  schoolmaster.11 

CHAPTER  IX. 
ANTHONY. 

The  schoolmaster  of  the  village  was  stiff 
and  formal  in  manner ;  he  received  the 
Captain  very  humbly.  The  three  were 
soon  seated  together  at  the  inn,  and  the 
village  teacher  related  the  history  of  his 
life. 

He  was  sixty-four  years  old,  but  seemed 
still  very  vigorous.  He  had  the  same  rea- 
son for  complaining  which  all  pub^c  teach- 
ers have,  and  related  with  a  mingled  pride 
and  bitterness  that  his  son,  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  was  receiving  more  than  twice 
the  pay  in  a  cement-factory  of  the  young 
Herr  Weidmann,  than  his  father  was  receiv- 
ing after  a  service  of  two  and  thirty  yeays. 
He  had  four  sons,  but  not  one  should  be- 
come a  schoolmaster.    Another  son  was  a 


j  merchant,  and  the  oldest  a  building-con- 
I  tractor  in  America. 

"  Yes,11  cried  he,  "  we  schoolmasters  are 
no  better  off  than  any  common  day-la- 
borer.11 

"  Would  you   remain  a  schoolmaster,1' 
asked  Eric,  "  if  vou  had  a  competency  ?  " 
"No.11 

"  And  you  would  never  have  become 
one  ? 11 

"  I  think  not.1' 

"  This  is  the  deplorable  part  of  it,"  cried 
Knopf,  "that  riches  always  say,  and  say 
rightly,  I  ought  not  to  remove  all  need,  for 
through  this  the  beautiful  and  noble  build 
themselves  up ;  need  calls  into  being  the 
ideal,  the  virtuous.  See  here,  Herr  Cap- 
tain Colleague,  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  who  is  a 
good  deal-  of  a  man,  of  wide  observation, 
says,  — 

"  '  I  must  not  trouble  myself  concerning 
the  people  about  me,  neither  must  Roland, 
for  if  he  did,  he  would  lose  all  comfort  of 
his  life ;  he  would  never  be  able  to  ride 
out,  without  thinking  of  the  misery  and 
suffering  he  witnessed  in  this  place  and  in 
that.1  See,  here  is  our  riddle.  How  can 
one  at  the  same  time  be  a  person  of  elevated 
thought,  and  be  rich  ?  We  teachers  are 
the  guardians  of  the  ideal.  Look  at  the 
villages  all  around  ;  there  is  in  them  all  a 
visible  and  an  invisible  tower,  and  the  in- 
visible is  the  ideality  of  the  schoolmaster 
sitting  there  with  his  children.  I  honor 
you,  because  you  also  have  become  a 
schoolmaster."  , 

Eric  looked  up  in  a  sort  of  surprise,  for 
his  vanity  was  inwardly  wounded  at  being 
reckoned  a  schoolmaster,  but  he  quickly 
overcame  it,  and  was  happy  in  the  thought. 

He  prevailed  upon  the  village  school- 
master to  go  on  with  the  history  of  his  life. 
He  was  a  good  mathematician,  had  been 
employed  in  the  land-registry  and  in  the 
custom-house ;  he  lost  his  situation  when 
the  Zollverein  was  established ;  for  two 
years  he  looked  round  for  something  to 
do,  almost  in  a  starving  condition,  and  then 
became  a  schoolmaster.  He  had  married 
well,  that  is,  into  a  wealthy  family,  so  that 
he  was  able  to  give  his  sons  a  good  education. 

Evening  had  come  on.  Eric  promised 
the  village  schoolmaster  to  give  him  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  instruction  of  Roland. 

Knopf  accompanied  Eric  for  some  dis- 
tance, and  then  requested  him  to  mount  his 
horse. 

Knopf  stood  looking  after  Eric  for  a 
long  time,  until  he  was  hidden  by  a  bend 
of  the  mountain,  and  his  puffed  lips  ad- 
dressed words  in  a  low  tone  to  him,  after 
he  had  disappeared. 


174 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


On  the  way  home,  Eric  was  surprised 
that  he  thought  less  about  Roland,  than  he 
did  about  Manna,  who  was  to  arrive  this 
evening. 

Laughable  old  stories,  how  the  tutor  fell 
in  love  with  the  daughter  of  the  house,  and 
was  expelled  by  the  hard-hearted,  rich 
father,  and  here  he  stands  before  the  house 
all  lighted  up,  he  hears  music;  above,  the 
lovely  one  celebrates  her  marriage  with  a 
very  noble  coxcomb,  and  a  pistoUshot  — 
no ;  it  would  be  more  practical  to  find  some 
better  situation. 

Eric  had  humor  enough  to  dismiss  every 
such  fancy  ;  he  would  remain  distant,  com- 
posed, and  respectful  towards  the  daughter 
of  the  house. 

When  he  rode  up  to  the  villa,  the  car- 
riages had  already  arrived,  and  Eric  re- 
ceived from  Herr  Sonnenkamp  a  reproof 
for  his  want  of  friendliness  in  not  remain- 
ing at  home,  or  taking  note  of  the  hour  of 
their  arrival. 

After  the  conversation  that  he  had  had 
with  Knopf,  the  feeling  of  being  in  service 
seemed  to  him  now  very  strange ;  or  was 
this  reception  intended  to  give  him  a  hint 
of  how  he  was  to  conduct  himself  towards 
Manna  ? 

Eric  made  no  reply  to  the  reprimand, 
for  such  it  was.  He  came  to  Roland,  who 
warmly  embraced  him  and  cried,  — 

"  Ah  !  with  you  only  is  it  well,  all  the 
rest  are  —  " 

"Say  nothing  about  the  rest,1'  inter- 
rupted Eric. 

But  he  could  not  restrain  Roland  from 
relating  the  disappointment  of  all,  that 
Manna  did  not  return  with  them. 

Eric  breathed  more  freely. 

Roland  mixed  up  in  his  relation  an  ac- 
count of  Bella's  getting  out  at  the  water- 
cure  establishment  on  their  return,  because 
a  message  from  Count  Clodwig  had  in- 
formed her  that  he  would  meet  her  there. 
Finally  he  said,  — 

"What  does  all  the  rest  amount  to? 
You  are  there  in  the  convent,  and  I  have 
told  Manna  that  you  look  just  like  the 
Saint  Anthony  in  the  church  of  the  con- 
vent. Yes,  laugh,  if  you  please  !  If  he 
should  laugh,  he  would  laugh  just  like  you  ; 
he  looked  just  as  you  look  now.  Manna 
told  me  the  story.  The  saint  has  been 
praying  to  heaven,  and  the  Christ-child  has 
laid  himself  there  in  his  arms,  when  he  was 
all  alone,  and  he  looks  at  him  so  lovingly, 
so  devoutly." 


Eric  was  thrilled ;  a  pure  living  being 
has  also  been  given  into  his  hands.  Is 
he  worthy  to  receive  it,  and  can  his  look 
rest  purely  upon  it  ? 

They  sat  together  without  speaking,  and 
Roland,  at  last,  cried,  — . 

"  We  will  not  leave  each  other  again, 
ever.  To-day  when  I  sat  there  upon  the 
deck,  all  alone,  it  seemed  to  me  —  I  was 
not  asleep,  I  was  wide  awake  —  it  seemed 
that  you  came,  and  took  me  in  your  arms 
and  held  me." 

Roland's  face  glowed  ;  he  was  feverishly 
excited,  and  Eric  had  great  difficulty  in 
calming  him  down.  But  what  he  could'  not 
easily  do  was  easy  for  the  dogs ;  Roland 
became  the  sell-forgetting  child  again, 
when  he  was  with  the  dogs,  who  had  grown 
so  astonishingly  in  a  few  days.  > 

Pranken  also  came  in  a  very  friendly 
way  to  Eric,  and  said  that  he  admired  his 
stimulating  power,  for  Roland  had  exhib- 
ited during  their  absence  a  susceptibility 
of  mind  and  a  se#sitiveness  of  feeling, 
which  no  one  would  have  supposed  him 
capable  of. 

Now  say  what  you  please,  candid  reader ! 
Yesterday,  an  hour  ago,  you  held  in  little 
esteem  some  man's  'judgment,  you  saw  dis- 
tinctly his  limitations,  and  now  he  shows 
that  he  recognizes  your  worth,  he  praises 
you,  he  extols  you,  and  suddenly,  without 
being  aware  of  it,  your  opinion  is  changed 
•concerning  him  whom  you  before  regarded 
as  one-sided  and  contracted,  especially  if 
you  are  a  person  struggling  with  yourself, 
withdrawn  into  yourself,  and  often  self- 
doubting. 

This  was  the  case  with  Eric.  Pranken 
seemed  to  him  a  man  of  very  good  judg- 
ment, very  amiable  indeed ;  and  he  even 
expressed  openly  his  satisfaction,  that  the 
friends  of  the  family  stood  by  him  and 
cheered  him  in  his  difficult  work  of  educa- 
tion. 

Pranken  was  content ;  Eric  manifestly 
acknowledged  his  position ;  he  showed  this 
by  not  accompanying  them  on  the  journey, 
and  not  thrusting  himself  into  the  family ; 
perhaps  also  there  was  a  certain  touch  of 
pride  in  not  wanting  to  appear  as  a  part  of 
the  retinue  ;  at  any  rate,  Eric  did  not  seem 
destitute  of  tact. 

Pranken  understood  how  to  make  this 
patronizing  protection  appear  as  a  sort  of 
friendly  confidence. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


175 


CHAPTER  X. 
ENTICEMENTS  ABROAD. 

Eric  and  Roland  lived  together  in  the 
castle,  for  so  the  rooms  in  the  turret  were 
called,  as  if  they  had  taken  possession  of 
a  new  abode,  and  were  all  alone  ;  no  sound 
from  the  human  world  penetrated  here, 
nothing  but  the  song  of  birds,  and  the  ring- 
ing of  the  bells  of  the  village  church  on  the 
mountain. 

A  regular  employment  of  the  time  was 
instituted;  until  noon  they  knew  nothing 
of  what  was  going  on  in  the  house,  and 
Roland  lived  almost  exclusively  in  the 
thought  of  Benjamin  Franklin. 

New  analogies  were  continually  present- 
ing themselves,  and  it  \w$  especially  pro- 
ductive of  them  that  an  American  youth,  a 
rich  youth  besides,  who  had  never  been  de- 
prived of  anything,  should  lay  out  for 
himself  a  life  full  of  deprivations.  Roland 
lived  and  moved  wholly  in  Franklin ;  he 
spoke,  at  the  table,  of  Benjamin  Franklin, 
as  if  he  were  a  man  who  had  just  appeared, 
and  was  invisibly  present  and  speaking  with 
them.  Roland  wished  to  keep  a.  regular 
record  of  what  he  thought  and  did,  exactly 
as  Franklin  had  done,  but  Eric  restrained 
him,  knowing  that  he  would  not  persevere 
in  it,  being  as  yet  too  fickle.  And  this  call- 
ing one's  self  to  account  was  peculiarly 
adapted  to  one  who  stood  alone,  or  was 
seeking  the  way  by  himself.  But  Roland 
was  with  Eric  from  morning  till  night. 
They  repeated  Franklin's  physical  experi- 
ments, they  entered  into  his  various  little 
narratives,  and  Roland  would  often  ask  on 
some  occurrence :  — 

"What  would  Franklin  say  to  that?11 
Eric  had  been  in  doubt  whether  he  should 
say  anything  to  Roland  of  the  interview 
with  Herr  Knopf.  He  was  waiting  for  a 
more  suitable  time ;  he  felt  that  the  fixed 
order  of  Roland's  method  of  life  should 
not  now  be  disturbed. 

There  was  a  great  commotion  at  the 
villa,  for  the  entire  contents  of  tiie  hot- 
house were  brought  out  into  the  park,  and 
a  new  garden  was  made  in  the  garden. 
Roland  and  Eric  did  not  see  it  until  every- 
thing was  arranged. 

Pranken  made  a  brief  visit  almost  every 
day,  and  when  be  remained  to  dinner,  he 
spoke  a  great  deal  of  the  princes  of  the 
church ;  he  always  called  the  bishop  the 
church-prince.  A  second  court-life  seemed 
to  have  been  opened  to  him,  and  this  court 
had  a  consecrating  element,  was  self-order- 
ing, and  needed  jio  Court-marshals. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  enquired  with  much 
interest  about  all  the  arrangements  at  the 


Episcopal  court ;  but  Frau  Ceres  was  wholly 
indifferent,  for  she  had  discovered  that 
there  was  no  court  ball  given,  and  no  ladies 
were  visible,  except  some  very  worthy  and 
respectable  nuns.  Frau  Ceres  entertained 
a  great  dislike  to  all  nuns,  principally  be- 
cause they  had  such  great  feet,  and  wore 
such  clumsy  shoes  .and  cotton  gloves. 
Frau  Ceres  hated  cotton  gloves  ;  and  when- 
ever she  thought  of  them,  she  affirmed  that 
she  experienced  a  nervous  shiver. 

The  days  were  still ;  the  trees  from  the 
South  grew  green  and  fragrant,  with  those 
that  were  native  to  the  soil ;  but  the  quiet 
days  came  to  an  end,  for  they  were  packing 
up  and  making  other  preparations  in  the 
house.  Lootz  was  the  director,  and  huge 
trunks  had  already  been  sent  off. 

It  was  a  rainy  morning  :  Eric  and  Roland 
were  sitting  together  with  Franklin^  life 
again  before  them:  Eric  perceived  that 
Roland  was  inattentive,  for  he  often  looked 
towards  the  door. 

At  last  there  was  a  knock,  and  Sonnen- 
kamp, who  had  never  before  disturbed  their 
morning's  occupation,  now  entered  the  room. 
He  expressed  his  satisfaction  that  the  course 
of  instruction  had  been  so  regularly  ar- 
ranged, and  he  hoped  that  it  would  suffer 
only  a  temporary  derangement  from  the 
journey,  as  they  could  immediately  resume 
it  on  arriving  at  Vichy. 

Eric  asked  in  amazement  what  this  refer- 
ence to  Vichy  meant,  and  was  told  that  the 
family,  with  the  whole  corps  of  servants, 
male  and  female,  as  well  as  Roland  and 
Eric,  were  going  to  the  mineral  baths  of 
Vichy,  and  from  there  to  the  sea-baths  at 
Biarritz. 

Eric  composed  himself  with  great  effort ; 
the  str  uggle  had  come  sooner  than  he  antici- 
pated, and  he  said  that  he  did  not  know 
what  Roland  thought  about  it,  but  that,  for 
his  own  part,  he  had  made  up  his  mind,  that 
he  #>uld  not  take  the  journey  to  the  Baths. 

"  You  cannot  go  with  us  ?    Why  not  ?  " 

"It  is  unpleasant  to  me  to  make  this 
declaration  in  Roland^  presence,  but  I 
think  that  he  is  sufficiently  mature  to  com- 
prehend this  matter.  I  think,  I  am  firmly 
convinced,  that  a  serious  course  of  study 
cannot  be  resumed  at  a  fashionable  water- 
ing-place, and  then  continued  at  Biarritz. 
I  cannot  begin  the  instruction  after  my 
pupil  has  been  hearing,  in  the  morning,  all 
kinds  of  music  at  the  fountains.  No  hu- 
man being  can  be  confined  there  to  earnest 
and  fixed  thought.  As  I  said,  I  consider 
Roland  mature  enough  to  decide  for  him- 
self. I  will  remain  here  at  the  villa,  if  you 
desire  it,  until  your  return." 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  Eric  in  astonish- 


176 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


merit,  and  Roland,  supplicatingly.  Sonnen- 
kamp did  not  appear  to  rely  upon  his  self- 
command  sufficiently  to  meet  the  family 
tutor  in  the  requisite  manner,  and  he  there- 
fore said  in  a  careless  tone  that  the  matter 
could  be  discussed  in  the  evening.  In  a  half- 
contemptuous  manner,  he  begged  pardon 
for  not  having  informed  Eric  of  his  plans 
for  the  summer  at  the  University-town. 

Eric  now  sat  alone  with  Roland,  who,  in 
silence,  looked  down  at  the  lioor.  Eric  let 
him  alone  for  awhile,  saying  to  himself, 
Now  is  the  critical  time,  now  is  the  trial  to 
be  made. 

"  Do  you  understand  the  reasons,"  he  at 
length  asked,  "  why  I  cannot  and  will  not 
continue  our  life  of  study,  this  life  that  we 
pursue  together,  in  a  place  of  amuse- 
ment ?  " 

"I  do  not  understand  them,"  said  the 
boy,  perversely. 

"  Shall  I  explain  them  ?  " 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  replied  the  boy, 
sullenly. 

Eric  said  nothing,  and  the  silence  enabled 
the  boy  to  realize  how  he  was  behaving ; 
but  there  was  something  in  the  soul  of  the 
youth  that  rebelled  against  anything  like 
subjection.  Taking  up  a  different  topic, 
Roland  asked  :  — 

"  Have  I  not  been  diligent  and  obedient?  " 

41  As  it  is  proper  that  you  should  be." 

"  Do  I  not  deserve  now  some  amuse- 
ment?" 

"  No.  The  performance  of  duty  is  not 
paid  for,  and  certainly  not  by  amusement." 

Again  there  was  a  long  silence,  the  boy 
turning  up  and  down  the  corners  of  the 
biography  of  Franklin,  which  he  had  just 
been  reading.  Without  saying  anything, 
Eric  took  the  book  out  of  his  hand  and  laid 
it  down.  With  his  hand  upon  the  cover, 
he  asked,  — 

"  What  do  you  think  that  Franklin  would 
now  say  to  you  ?  "  * 

"  I  can't  tell  what  he  would  say." 

"  You  can,  but  you  do  not  choose  to." 

"No,  I  cannot,"  said  the  boy.  He 
stamped  insolently  with  his  foot,  and  his 
voice  was  choked  with  tears. 

"  I  have  a  better  opinion  of  you  than 
you  have  of  yourself,"  said  Eric,  taking  hold 
of  the  boy's  chin.  "  Look  at  ine,  don't  look 
down  to  the  earth,  don't  be  out  of  humor.11 

Roland's  countenance  was  unmoved,  and 
the  tears  .stood  motionless  in  his  eyes. 
Eric  continued,  — 

"  Is  there  any  good  thing  in  the  world 
that  I  would  not  like  to  give  you  ? 11 

"No;  but  " 

"  Well,  but  what  ?  Goon." 

"  Ah,  I  don^  know  any.    And  yet  —  yet 


—  do  go  for  my  sake,  go  with  us ;  I  could 
not  take  pleasure  if  you  were  not  with  us 

—  I  there,  and  you  here  alone." 

"  Would  you  like  to  journey  then  with- 
out me  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  do  it,  you  are  to  go  too !  " 
said  the  boy,  springing  up  and  throwing 
himself  upon  Eric's  neck. 

"  I  declare  to  you  most  decidedly,  I  do 
not  go  with  you." 

Roland  let  his  hands  fall,  when  Eric 
grasped  them,  saying,  — 

"  I  could  also  say  in  my  turn,  Do  stay 
here  for  my  sake  ;  but  I  will  not.  Look  up 
brightly,  and  think  how  it  would  be  if  we 
remain  together  here.  Your  parents  travel 
to  the  Baths  ;  we  stay  here  and  learn  some- 
thing regularly,  and  are  happier  than  we 
should  be  on  the  promenade,  with  the  music 
of  the  saloon,  happier  than  by  the  sea-shore. 
See,  Roland,  I  have  never  been  to  France, 
nor  seen  the  sea.  I  renounce  the.  pleasure, 
I  prefer  the  duty ;  and  do  yoil  know  where 
my  duty  lies  ?  " 

"Ah,  the  duty  can  go  with  us  wherever 
we  go,"  cried  the  boy,  smiling  amidst  his 
tears.  Eric  was  obliged  to  laugh  too ;  at 
last  he  said,  -  - 

"This  duty  cannot  travel  abroad.  You 
have  had  distractions  enough  all  your  life. 
Come,  be  my  dear  comrade,  my  good  fellow. 
Have  confidence  in  me,  that  I  can  see  rea- 
sons which  you  cannot." 

"  Y"es,  I  do  have  confidence,  but  it  is  so 
splendid,  you  can^  imagine  it,  and  I  will 
show  everything  to  you." 

A  whirlwind  seemed  to  have  seized  Ro- 
land, so  that  he  turned  round  and  round. 
It  came  over  him  with  a  rush,  that  he  had 
forced  Eric  to  remain  with  him,  that  he  had 
forced  his  father  to  give  Eric  to  him,  and 
now  he  was  about  to  desert  him  !  But  there 
was  the  enticement  of  the  music,  the  pleas- 
ant journeys,  the  protecting  ladies,  and  the 
roguish  girls  who  played  with  him.  Sud- 
denly he  cried, — "Eric!  thy  mother!" 
for  she  had  said  to  him  on  taking  leave, 
Be  so  worthy,  that  Eric  will  never  leave 
you  !  This  thought  was  now  aroused  with- 
in him,  and  on  the  other  hand,  there  were 
the  carriages  driving,  and  the  merry  troop 
riding  on  horseback,  and  he  among  them. 
How  could  this  old,  grave  lady,  clad  in 
mourning,  who  stood  in  the  path,  detain 
him  ?    It  was  like  a  feverish  waking  dream. 

"Eric!  thy  mother!"  cried  he  again, 
and  then  he  said,  embracing  him,  — 

"  Eric  !  I  remain  with  you  !  now  help  me, 
so  that  they  shall  not  take  me  away  without 
you." 

"  You  are  not  to  be  obstinate  with  your 
parents,  but  you  have  now  also  a  duty  to 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


177 


me ;  you  must  not  leave  me,  as  I  must  not 
leave  you." 

It  was  a  hard  struggle  to  gain  the  con- 
sent of  the  parents  to  Roland's  remaining 
at  the  villa  with  Eric.  Frau  Ceres  was 
brought  over  the  soonest,  but  Sonnenkamp 
held  out,  and  Roland  looked  on  in  per- 
plexity. The  desire  arose  in  him  that  his 
father  would  withhold  his  consent,  and  Eric 
be  prevailed  on  to  go  with  them. 

Eric  took  the  father  aside,  and  told  him 
that  he  considered  it  would  be  the  ruin  of 
Roland,  if  now  when  he  bad  voluntarily 
pledged  himself,  and  was  constrained  to  do 
what  was  best,  the  whole  should  be  upset ; 
the  youth  had  never,  on  account  of  various 
distractions,  come  to  any  knowledge  of  him- 
self, lie  declared  that,  grievous  as  it  would 
be  to  him,  he  should  be  obliged  to  leave  the 
family,  if  Roland  went  with  them.  He  had 
not  said  this  to  Roland,  for  Roland  should 
not  be  permitted  to  think  upon  the  possi- 
bility of  the  tie  being  severed.  He  be- 
sought Sonnenkamp  to  employ  now  a  little 
policy  ;  it  would  not  be  wrong.  He  was  to 
say  to  Roland,  that  he  wanted  to  test  his 
constancy,  and  he  was  glad  that  he  had 
stood  the  trial ;  that  he  had  hoped  Roland 
would  make  the  proposal  to  stay  with  Eric, 
and  he  gave  his  consent. 

Inwardly  chafing,  Sonnenkamp  complied 
with  this  proposition,  and  Roland  saw  him- 
self released  on  the  one  side,  and  bound  on 
the  other. 

On  the  next  day,  the  parents  set  out  on 
the  journey. 

Eric  and  Roland  drove  with  them  to  the 
railroad  station,  and  when  the  approaching 
train  was  signalized  to  be  near,  Sonnen- 
kamp took  his  son  aside,  and  said  to  him,  — 

"  My  boy,  if  it  is  too  hard  for  you,  jump 
into  the  car,  and  leave  the  Doctor  to  him- 
self. Believe  me,  he  won't  run  away  from 
you ;  there  is  a  golden  whistle  by  which 
every  pne  can  be  called.  Be  bold,  young 
fellow." 

"Father,  is  this  also  a  part  of  the  test 
you  have  put  me  to  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  plucky  youth,"  answered 
Sonnenkamp,  with  emotion. 

The  train  rumbled  in.  A  great  number 
of  black  trunks,  studded  with  yellow  nails, 
were  put  on  board,  Joseph  and  Lootz  show- 
ing themselves  expert  travelling-marshals. 
Boxes,  bags,  portmanteaus,  bottles,  and 
packages  were  placed  in  the  first-class  car 
which  Sonnenkamp,  Frau  Ceres  and  Fräu- 
lein Perini  occupied.  Roland  was  kissed 
once  more,  Sonnenkamp  whispering  at  the 
same  time  something  in  his  ear.  The 
train  rolled  away,  and  Eric  and  Roland  stood 
alone  on  the  station-steps. 


They  went  silently  back  to  the  villa. 
Roland  looked  pale ;  every  drop  of  blood 
seemed  to  have  left  his  face.  They  reached 
the  villa,  where  all  was  so  silent  and  deso- 
late. 

After  they  had  got  out  of  the  carriage, 
Roland  .grasped  Eric's  hand,  saying,  — 

"  Now  we  two  are  alone  in  the  world. 
What  can  one  undertake  at  such  a  time  ?  " 

The  wind  roared  in  gusts  through  the 
park,  and  shook  the  trees,  whose  blossoms 
went  whirling  into  the  air,  while  the  river 
tossed  up  its  waves ;  a  thunder-storm  was 
coming  on. 

Eric  ordered  the  horses  to  be  put  again 
to  the  carriage,  and  entered  it  with  Roland, 
who  asked,  — 

' '  Where  are  we  going  ?  " 

Eric  quieted  him  with  the  assurance  that 
he  was  about  to  show  him  a  miracle.  They 
drove  down  the  road,  where  the  wind  was 
dashing  about  the  branches  of  the  nut-trees, 
while  the  lightning  flashed  and  the*  thunder 
rolled  overhead. 

"  Where  are  we  driving  ?  "  Roland  asked 
again. 

"We  are  now  going  to  school  to  Frank- 
lin. I  can  now  show  you  how  the  lightning 
is  tamed."  And  they  drove  on  to  the  rail- 
road station. 

The  telegraphist  gave  Eric  a  very  friend- 
ly reception.  Eric  showed  his  pupil,  in  the 
office  of  the  telegraph,  the  electrical  current 
in  a  pretty  little  glass  box,  where  a  blue 
spark  darted  rapidly  hither  and  thither,  and 
then  vanished  over  the  connecting  wires. 
At  every  flash  a  sharp  click  came  from  the 
connecting  rods,  and,  at  the  same  instant, 
the  little  blue  flame  appeared  and  then  van- 
ished. 

Eric  was  glad  to  be  able  to  exhibit  this  to 
his  pupil,  and  the  telegraphist  added  many 
important  and  interesting  details.  He  re- 
lated how  they  were  inexpressibly  troubled 
in  their  communications  during  a  thunder- 
storm, for  incomprehensible  words  came 
over  the  wires,  and  he  was  once  hurled  by 
a  shock  of  electricity  against  the  stove  yon- 
der. He  showed  the  metal  plates  to  draw 
off  the  lightning,  which  often  struck  and 
cut  off  the  conducting  rods  as  nicely  as  if 
done  with  a  sharp  file. 

They  had  removed  the  lights,  and  saw 
only  the  little  blue  flame,  which  Roland 
watched  with  childish  delight.  It  was  easy 
to  explain  the  operation  of  the  electro-mag- 
netic telegraph,  and  Roland  said,  — 

"Even  if  Franklin  was  not  acquainted 
with  this,  he  yet  first  caught  the  lightning." 

"  Do  you  think  that  he  could  know, what 
would  be  the  results  ?  " 

Eric  endeavored  to  explain  to  Roland, 


178 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


that  in  all  discovery,  invention,  creation  and 
action,  there  is  a  great  bond  of  unity,  a 
continual  process  of  development.  And 
here  in  this  dark  roorri,  while  the  little  blue 
flame  was  dancing,  and  the  three  persons 
hardly  venturing  to  speak  aloud  soon  be- 
came utterly  speechless,  the  soul,  of  the 
youth  was  touched  with  a  feeling  of  devo- 
tion, and  raised  far  above  the  range  of 
ordinary  experience.  The  separation  from 
his  parents,  the  pleasure  that  had  allured 
him,  all  had  vanished,  had  sunk  out  of  sight, 
as  if  he  were  living  on  some  star  remote 
from  the  earth. 

The  storm  had  ceased,  and  a  copious  rain 
was  falling ;  when  the  window  was  re-op- 
ened, lloland  said,  gently  taking  Eric's 
hand,  and  looking  out  into  the  night,  — 

"  Can  one  not  imagine,  that  the  soul  in 
the  bodies  of  human  beings  moves  like  the 
electrical  spark  on  the  wire  ?  " 

Eric  made  no  reply.  He  saw  that  the 
boy  was  beginning  to  see  something  of  the 
enigma  of  life  ;  he  must  work  it  out  for  him- 
self, and  could  not  and  must  not  be  helped 
at  present.  And  this  trifling  question  gave 
assurance  that  the  higher  life  could  be  pre- 
served in  the  youth ;  he  had  overcome  the 
desire  of  dissipation,  and  had  given  himself 
up  to  what  could  not  be  made  slavishly  sub- 
ject to  his  will. 

The  telegraphist  gave  an  account  of  Son- 
nenkamp's  frightful  appearance  and  conduct 
on  the  night  that  Roland  was  missing.  He 
said  in  a  low  tone  to  Eric,  that  he  himself 
was  afraid  of  the  man,  and  that  notwith- 
standing the  considerable  sum  of  money 
which  he  offered  him  to  remain  there  through 
the  night,  he  had  pleaded  as  an  excuse  the 
want  of  official  orders,  because  he  would 
not  remain  alone  with  Sonnenkamp  for  all 
the  gol'd  in  the  world. 

Eric  perceived  that  Roland  had  heard  the 
last  remark  notwithstanding  the  low  tone, 
and  said  in  a  jesting  way,  that  a  man  who 
has  to  deal  with  the  nervous  filaments  ex- 
tended over  the  earth  might  very  readily 
become  nervous  himself. 

The  telegraphist  assented,  and  had  many 
wonderful  stories  to  tell.  When  Eric  went 
with  Roland  into  the  passenger's  room,  he 
was  surprised  to  see  Roland's  quick  eye  for 
the  laughable  characteristics  of  people.  He 
had  observed  very  shrewdly  the  peculiari- 
ties of  the  telegraphist,  and  imitated  him 
very  exactly.  Without  a  direct  rebuff, 
Eric  endeavored  to  explain  to  his  pupil, 
that  those  persons  who  are  partly  engaged 
in  work,  and  partly  in  science,  in  that  middle 
region  of  the  vocations  of  life,  such  as 
apothecaries,  surgical  operators,  lithograph- 
ists,  photographists,  and  telegraphists,  are  I 


easily  carried  from  one  extreme  to  the  other. 
Telegraphy  created  a  certain  excitability, 
and  susceptibility,  on  account  of  the  direct 
arousing  of  the  faculties  and  the  operation 
at  great  distances,  which  give  to  the  soul  a 
certain  tension  and  excitation. 

Eric  sought  to  explain  all  this  to  his 
pupil ;  he  would  have  liked  to  give  him  the 
just  views  which  are  embraced  in  the 
knowledge  of  psychological  principles,  but 
he  led  him  back  to  the  wonderful  in  what 
they  had  seen,  and  he  succeeded  in  his  pur- 
pose of  deeply  impressing  this  upon  the 
soul. 

The  stars  were  glittering  in' the  heavens, 
when  they  returned  home  from  their  glance 
into  the  mysterious  primitive  force  of  earth's 
being. 

Eric  could  not  restrain  the  impulse  to 
picture  to  his  scholar  what  had  been  proba- 
bly the  feelings  of  that  people  of  the  des- 
ert, on  the  evening  of  that  day  when  Jeho- 
vah had  revealed  himself  to  them  in  thunder 
and  lightning  upon  Mount  Sinai ;  how  it 
must  have  been  with  them  when  they  went 
to  rest,  and  how  it  must  have  seemed  to  the 
souls  of  thousands,  as  if  the  world  were 
created  anew. 

Eric  hardly  knew  what  he  was  saying,  as 
he  drove  through  the  refreshed  and  glisten- 
ing starry  night.  But  the  feelings  of  the 
boy  and  the  man  were  devotional.  And 
after  they  reached  home  neither  wished  to 
speak  one  word,  and  they  quietly  bade  each 
other  good-night.  But*  Eric  could  not  go 
to  sleep  for  a  long  time.  Is  the  light  in  the 
soul  of  a  human  being  an  incomprehensible 
electric  spark  that  cannot  be  laid  hold  of, 
and  which  flashes  up  in  resolve  and  act? 
So  long  as  there  is  no  storm  in  the  sky  we 
send  at  will  the  spark  over  the  extended 
wire  ;  but  when  the  great,  eternally  unsub- 
dued, primitive  forces  of  nature  manifest 
themselves,  the  human  message  is  no  longer 
transmitted,  and  the  sparks  spontaneously 
play  upon  the  conducting  wires.  Chaos 
sends  forth  an  unintelligible  message. 

A  time  will  come  when  thou  shalt  no 
longer  be  master  of  the  living  soul  of  thy 
pupil,  in  which,  with  all  thy  heedful  precau- 
tion, rude,  uncontrolled  elements  are  at 
work.    What  then? 

There  is  no  security  given  for  the  whole 
future,  and  in  the  meantime,  what  concerns 
us  is  to  fulfil  quietly  and  faithfully  the  duty 
of  the  day. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  FRUIT  IS  SET   ON  THE  GRAPE-VINE. 

There  is  stillness  in  the  vineyards  on 
the   mountain-side,  and  no  persons  are 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


179 


among  the  green  rows,  for  the  vines,  which 
until  now  were  allowed  free  growth,  have 
been  tied  up  so  that  the  blossoms  may  not 
nutter  about.  The  hidden  blossom  makes 
no  show,  but  a  sweet  fragrance,  just  faintly 
perceptible,  is  diffused  through  the  air. 
Now,  the  vine  needs  the  quiet  sunshine  by 
day,  and  the  warm  breeze  by  night;  the 
bloom  must  be  set-  as  fruit,  but  the  flavour, 
the  aroma,  and  the  strength  are  not  brought 
out  until  the  autumn.  After  the  fruit  has 
become  set,  storm  and  tempest  may  come  ; 
the  fruit  is  vigorous,  and  sure  of  attaining 
its  future  noble  destiny. 

Roland  and  Eric  went  hand  in  hand  over 
the  country,  with  no  definite  object  in  view ; 
the  town  was  quiet,  and  the  scattered  coun- 
try-house's were  deserted. 

Bella,  Clodwig,  and  Pranken  had  set  out 
on  a  journey  to  Gastein,  the  Major  to  Tep- 
litz,  the  Justice  with  his  wife  and  daughter 
to  Kissingen.  Only  the  doctor  remained 
at  his  post,  and  he  is  now  alone,  for  his  wife 
has  gone  to  visit  her  daughter  and  grand- 
children. Eric  had  determined  at  the  very 
first,  before  he  knew  of  the  journey  to  the 
Baths  and  of -being  alone,  to  decline  every 
distraction  and  every  connection  with  a 
wide  circle  of  acquaintance,  wishing  to  de- 
vote himself  exclusively  and  entirely,  with 
all  his  energies,  to  Roland.  And  so  they 
were  noAv  inseparably  together,  from  early 
in  the  morning  until  bedtime. 

He  only  who  lives  with  nature,  day  in  and 
day  out  knows  all  the  changes  of  light,  so 
various  and  fleeting,  and  only  he  who  lives 
exclusively  with  one  person  knows  thor- 
oughly the  sudden  upspringings  of  thought, 
when  all  is  illuminated  and  stands  out  in 
prominent  relief.  Eric  was  well  aware  that 
Roland  frequently  dwelt  upon  the  pleasures 
and  dissipations  of  a  life  at  the  Baths,  and 
that  the  youth  had  often  to  force  himself  to 
a  uniform  round  of  duty,  struggling  and 
inwardly  protesting  to  some  extent  against 
it ;  but  Eric  looked  upon  it  as  the  prancing 
of  an  untamed  horse,  who  resists  bit  and 
bridle,  but  soon  is  proud  of  his  trappings. 
Numberless  elements  influence,  move,  form, 
and  expand  whatever  is  in  process  of 
growth ;  man  can  bend  and  direct  that 
which  is  taking  form  and  shape,  but  to 
affect  the  changes  beyond  this  stage  is  not 
in  his  power. 

Eric  brought  three  different  influences  to 
bear  upon  his  pupil.  They  continued  to 
read  Franklin's  life ;  Roland  was  to  see  a 
whole  man  on  every  side.  The  political 
career,  which  Franklin  gradually  entered 
upon,  was  as  yet  not  within  the  range  of 
the  youth's  comprehension ;  but  he  was  to 
form  some  idea  of  such  varied  activity,  and 


Eric  knew,  too,  that  no  one  can  estimate 
what  may  abide  as  a  permanent  possession 
in  a  young  soul,  even  from  what  is  but  par- 
tially understood.  The  White  House  at 
Washington  took  rank  in  Roland's  fancy 
with  the  Acropolis  at  Athens  and  the  Cap- 
itol at  Rome  ;  he  often  spoke  of  his  ardent 
desire  to  go  on  a  pilgrimage  thither. 

It  was  hard  to  fix  the  youth's  attention 
upon  the  establishment  of  the  American 
Republic  and  the  formation  of  the  Consti- 
tution, but  he  was  kept  persistently  to  it. 

Eric  chose,  for  its  deep  insight,  Ban- 
croft's History  of  the  United  States. 

They  read,  at  the  same  time,  the  life  of 
Crassus  by  Plutarch,  and  also  Longfellow's 
Hiawatha.  The  impression  of  this  poem 
was  great,  almost  overlaying  all  the  rest ; 
here  the  New  World  has  its  mythical  and 
its  romantic  age  in  the  Indian  legend,  and 
it  seems  to  be  the  work  not  of  one  man, 
but  of  the  spirit  of  a  whole  people.  The 
planting  of  corn  is  represented  under  a 
mythological  form,  as  full  of  life  as  any 
which  the  myth-creating  power  of  antiquity 
can  exhibit. 

Hiawratha  invents  the  sail,  makes  streams 
navigable,  and  banishes  disease ;  but  Hia- 
watha's Fast,  and  the  mood  of  exaltation 
and  self-forgetfulness  consequent  thereon, 
made  upon  Roland  the  deepest  impression. 

"  Man  only  is  capable  of  that !  "  cried 
Roland. 

"Capable  of  what?"  asked  Eric. 

"Man  only  can  fast,  can  voluntarily  re- 
nounce food." 

From  this  mythical  world  of  the  past, 
which  must  necessarily  retire  before  the 
bright  day  in  the  progress  of  civilization, 
they  passed  again  to  the  study  of  the  first 
founding  of  the  great  American  Republic. 
Franklin  again  appeared  here,  and  seemed 
to  become  the  central  point  for  Roland, 
taking  precedence  even  of  Jefferson,  who 
not  only  proclaimed  first  the  eternal  and 
inalienable  rights  of  man,  but  made  them 
the  very  foundation  of  a  nation's  life.  Ro- 
land and  Eric  saw  together  how  this  Cru- 
soe-settlement on  a  large  scale,  as  Frederic 
Kapp  calls  it,  unfolded  into  a  high  state  of 
culture ;  and  that  sad  weakness  and  com- 
promise, which  did  not  immediately  abolish 
slavery,  also  constituted  a  knotty  point  of 
investigation. 

"Do  you  think  the  Niggers  are  human 
beings  like  us  ?  "  asked  Roland.  - 

"Undoubtedly;  they  have  language  and 
the  power  of  thought,  just  as  we  have." 

' '  I  once  heard  it  said,  that  they  could 
not  learn  mathematics,"  interposed  Roland. 

"I  never  heard  that  before,  and  proba- 
bly it  is  a  mistake." 


180 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Eric  did  not  go  any  farther  in  this  ex- 
position ;  he  wished  to  cast  no  imputation 
upon  the  father,  who  had  owned  large  plan- 
tations tilled  by  slaves.  It  was  sufficient 
that  questions  were  coming  up  in  the  boy's 
mind. 

Nothing  better  ,could  have  been  con- 
trived for  Eric  and  Roland,  than  for  them 
to  learn  something  together.  The  archi- 
tect, a  man  skilled  in  his  business,  and 
happy  to  have  so  early  in  life  such  an  ex- 
cellent commission  entrusted  to  him,  was 
communicative  and  full  of  information. 
The  castle  had  been  destroyed,  as  so  many 
others  were,  by  the  barbarous  soldiers  of 
Louis  XIV.  encamped  in  Germany,  exactly 
a  hundred  years  before  the  French  Revo- 
lution. An  old  main-tower,  the  so-called 
Keep,  had  still  some  remains  of  Roman 
walls,  concrete  walls,  as  the  architect  called 
them. 

"What  is  concrete?"  asked  Roland. 
The  architect  explained  that  the  inside  and 
outside  layers  consisted  of  quarry  stone 
laid  in  regular  masonry,  and  between, 
stones  of  altsizes  were  thrown  in*  and  then 
the  whole  was  evidently  cemented  together 
with  a  sort  of  heated  mortar. 

Only  one-third  of  the  tower  had  aper- 
tures "for  light ;  the  rest  was  solid  stone 
wall. 

The  whole  region  had  made  use  of  the 
castle  as  a  stone-quarry,  and  the  corners 
had  especially  suffered,  because  they  con- 
tained the  best  stones.  The  whole  was 
grown  over  with  shrubbery,  the  castle- 
dwelling  had  wholly  disappeared,  and  the 
castle  itself,  originally  Roman,  had  proba- 
bly been  rebuilt  in  the  style  of  the  tenth 
century.  From  a  drawing  found  in  the  ar- 
chives only  a  few  additional  characteristics 
could  be  made  out,  but  from  single  stones 
and  angles  much  of  the  general  structure 
could  be  copied,  and  the  architect  showed 
how  he  had  planned  the  whole,  and  he  was 
particularly  glad  to  have  discovered  the 
spring,  out  of  which  they  had  taken,  to  use 
his  own  expression,  "a  great  deal  of  rub- 
bish and  dirt/' 

The  insight  into  the  inner  mystery  of  a 
man's  active  calling  produced  a  deep  im. 
pression  upon  the  youth,  and  he  followed 
out  the  whole  plan  of  construction  with 
great  diligence;  and  he  and  Eric  always 
placed  before  them,  as  a  reward  for  actual 
work  accomplished,  this  instructive  conver- 
sation with  the  architect,  and  even  fre- 
quently a  permission  to  be  actively  em- 
ployed. It  was  a  favorite  thought  of  Ro- 
land's to  live  here  at  some  future  time 
alone  at  the  castle,  and  he  wanted  to  have 
had  some  hand  in  the  building. 


Roland  and  Eric  were  regularly  but  no 
accidently,  at  the  castle  when  the  masons 
and  the  laborers  engaged  in  excavation  were 
paid  off  on  Saturday  evening.  The  time 
for  leaving  off  work  being  an  hour  earlier 
than  usual,  the  barber  came  from  the  town 
and  shaved  the  masons,  and  then  they 
washed  themselves  at  the  fountain ;  *a 
baker-woman  with  bread  also  came  out 
from  the  town,  and  the  workmen  placed 
themselves,  one  after  another,  under  the 
porch  of  a  small  house  that  had  been  tem- 
porarily erected.  Roland  frequently  stood 
inside  the  room,  with  the  foremen,  and 
heard  only  the  brief  words,  — 

"You  receive  so  much,  and  you,  so 
much." 

He  saw  the  hard  hands  which  received 
the  pay.  Frequently  he  stood  outside 
among  the  workmen  themselves,  or  by 
their  side,  observing  them ;  and  the  boys 
of  his  own  age  received  his  particular  no- 
tice, and  he  thanked  all  heartily,  when  they 
saluted  him.  Most  of  them  had  a  loaf  of 
bread  wrapped  up  in  a  cloth  under  their 
arm,  and  they  went  off  to  the  villages 
where  they  lived,  ofteri  singhig  until  they 
were  out  of  hearing. 

Eric  knew  that  it  was  not  in  accordance 
with  Sonnenkamp's  ideas  for  Roland  thus 
to  become  familiar  with  different  modes  of 
life,  for  he  had  once  heard  him  say,  — 

"  He  who  wishes  to  build  a  castle  need 
not  know  all  the  carters  and  quarrymen  in 
the  stone-pits  around." 

But  Eric  considered  it  his  duty  to  let 
Roland  have  an  unprejudiced  acquaintance 
with  a  mode  of  life  different  from  his  own. 
He  saw  the  expression  of  Roland's  large 
eyes  while  they  were  sitting  upon  a  pro- 
jecting point  of  the  castle,  where  the 
thyme  sent  up  its  sweet  odor  around  them, 
and  they  looked  out  over  mountain  and  val- 
ley, with  the  bells  sending  out  their  peal  for 
the  Sunday-eve ;  and  he  felt  happy,  for  he 
knew  that  an  eye  which  so  looked  upon  the 
hard-working  hands,  and  a  thought  which 
so  followed  the  laborers  returning  to  their 
homes,  was  forming  an  internal  state  that 
could  not  be  hardheartedly  unmindful  of 
one's  fellow-men.  Thus  was  a  moral  and 
intellectual  foundation  laid  in  the  soul  of 
the  youth.  Eric  took  good  heed  not  to  dis- 
turb the  germinating  seed  by  exposing  it  to 
the  light. 

One  evening,  when  they  were  sitting  upon 
the  castle,  the  sun  had  already  gone  down, 
and  the  tops  of  the  mountains  only  were 
tinged  with  the  glowing  sunset,  while  the 
village,  with  its  blue  slate-roofs  and  the 
evening  smoke  rising  straight  in  the  air, 
seemed  like  a  dream  —  Roland  said,  — 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


181 


"  I  should  like  to  know,  how  it  is  that  no 
castles  are  to  be  found  in  America." 

Eric  repeated  with  pleasure  Goethe's 
verses,  — 

"  America,  to  thee  is  given 
A  better  fate  than  here  is  found! 
'  No  mouldering  castle-towers  hast  thou, 
No  monumental  columns  fallen  ; 
No  gloomy  shadows  of  the  past, 
No  vain  and  useless  strife 
Becloud  thy*  heavens  serene. 
To-day  suffices  with  its  good; 
And,  sing  your  children  in  poetic  strains, 
Be  it  on  higher  themes 

Than  robbers,  knights,  and  haunting  ghosts." 

Roland  learned  them  by  heart,  and 
wanted  to  know  more  of  Goethe. 

In  their  quiet  walks  Eric  repeated  to 
him  many  of  Goethe's  poems,  in  which  not 
man,  but  nature  herself  seems  to  have  pro- 
duced the  expression.  The  towering  spirit 
of  Goethe,  with  Hiawatha  and  Crassus,  was 
now  added  to  the  sedate  and  unexciting 
study  of  Benjamin  Franklin. 

Roland  felt  deeply  the  influence  of  the 
various  moral  and  spiritual  elements  in 
whose  circle  he  lived.  Eric  was  able  to 
quote  apt  passages  from  the  classic  poets 
of  antiquity,  as  well  as  of  his  own  country 
to  his  pupil.  This  revealed  to  Roland's 
perception  the  double  manifestation  of  all 
life,  and  made  him  long  for  the  real  and 
true . 

One  day,  when  Eric  and  Roland  "were 
sitting  on  the  boundary  of  a  field,  they  saw 
a  hare  which  ate  a  little,  ran  off,  and  then 
ate  again.    Roland  said,  — 

"  Timid  hare  !  yes,  why  shouldn't  he  be 
timid  ?  he  has  no  weapons  of  attack  or  of 
defence  ;  he  can  only  run  away." 

Eric  nodded,  and  the  boy  went  on. 

"  Why  are  dogs  the  enemies  of  hares  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean,  I  can  understand  how  the  dog 
and  the  fox  are  enemies ;  they  can  both 
bite  :  but  why  a  dog  should  hate  and  pursue  a 
hare,  that  can  do  nothing  but  run,  I  can't 
understand."  In  spite  of  all  his  knowledge, 
Eric  often  found  himself  in  a  position  where 
nothing  but  conjecture  could  help  him ;  he 
said,  — 

"I  think  that  the  dog  in  a  wild  state 
found  his  chief  food  in  the  defenceless  ani- 
mals, as  the  fox  does.  The  dog  is  really  a 
tame  cousin  of  the  fox;  education  has 
changed  him  only  so  far  that  he  now  bites 
hares  to  death,  but  does  not  eat  them.  Ani- 
mals that  feed  on  plants  live  in  the  open  air, 
but  beasts  of  prey,  in  caves." 

For  a  short  time  the  boy  sat  silent,  then 
he  suddenly  said, — 

"  How  strange  ! " 


' <  What  is  it?" 

"  You  will  laugh  at  me,  but  I  have  been 
thinking,"  —  as  he  spoke  a  bright  smile 
broke  over  the  boy's  face,  showing  the 
dimples  in  his  cheeks  and  chin, — "the 
wild  animals  have  no  regular  hours  for  their 
meals,  they  eat*-all  day  long.;  dogs  have 
only  been  trained  by  us  men  to  take  their 
food  at  certain  times." 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Eric  ;  "the  regula- 
tion of  our  lives  by  fixed  hours  only  begins 
with  education." 

And  without  tedious  or  unnecessary  dif- 
fuseness,  Eric  succeeded  in  bringing  before 
his  pupil  what  a  great  thing  it  is  to  measure 
time,  and  to  set  our  daily  life  to  the  rhythm 
of  the  universe,  of  the  whole  starry  world. 

Improbable  as  it  may  seem,  it  was  really 
the  fact,  that  from  the  time  of  this  conver- 
sation, which  began  with  so  small  and  in- 
significant a  matter,  but  took  so  wide  a 
range,  the  hours  of  study  of  the  pair  were 
strictly  fixed :  Roland  wished  to  have  no 
more  unoccupied  time.  This  was  a  great 
step  in  his  life ;  what  had  before  seemed 
like  tyranny  was  now  a  self-imposed  law. 

A  few  weeks  later,  Roland  himself  gave 
up  his  favorite  companions  for  Eric's  sake. 
On  their  walks  through  fields  and  over 
mountains,  and  their  visits  to  the  castle,  the 
dogs  had  been  taken  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Eric  was  ready  to  reply  to  every  question 
of  his,  pupil,  but  a  disturbing  companion  was 
always  with  them  so  long  as  Roland  never 
went  out  without  one  of  his  dogs,  and  there 
could  be  no  connected  thought  while  the 
eye  rested  on  the  animal,  however  involun- 
tarily. The  dog  constantly  looked  up  at 
his  master  and  wanted  his  presence  acknowl- 
edged, and  wandering  thoughts  followed 
him  as  he  ran.  It  was  difficult  for  Eric  to 
bring  Roland  tt>  leave  them  at  home ;  he 
did  not  directly  order  him  to  do  it,  but  he 
several  times  replied  to  his  questions,  by 
saying  that  he  could  not  answer  when  their 
attention  was  given  to  calling  the  dogs  and 
watching  their  gambols.  When  this  had 
been  repeated  several  times,  Roland  left  the 
dogs  at  home,  and  saw  that  Eric  meant  to 
reward  him  for  his  sacrifice  by  his  ready 
answers  to  all  his  questions.  Eric  led  Ro- 
land into  departments  cf  knowledge,  but 
took  care  not  to  impart  too  much  at  once  ; 
on  many  points  he  put  him  off  till  a  later 
period,  drawing  him  constantly  to  follow 
out  the  suggestions  of  his  own  observations. 

Yonder  lies  the  field,  and  there  is  the 
vineyard  where  the  grapes  grow,  collecting 
and  transmitting  within  themselves  all  the 
elements  which  float  in  the  air,  or  repose  in 
the  earth;  and  more  than  all,  the  rolling 
river  sends  forth  into  the  fruit  an  immeasur- 


182 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


able  strength  and  a  mysterious  fragrance. 
The  growth  goes  on  by  day  and  night, 
through  sunshine  and  dewy  shade  ;  rain  and 
lightning  and  hail  do  their  work,  and  the 
plants  live  on  to  their  maturity.  Each  sep- 
arate plant  is  at  first  hardly  to  be  noticed, 
but  it  grows  to  meet  its  nature-appointed 
destiny. 

Who  can  name  all  the  elements  which 
mould  and  build  up  a  human  soul  ?  Who 
can  say  how  much  of  what  Eric  cherished 
in  Roland  has  grown  and  thriven  up  to  this 
very  hour?  And  yet  this  unbroken  growth 
brings  the  mysterious  result  which  forms 
our  life. 

Roland  and  Eric  were  present  every 
morning  and  evening  when  the  lawns  were 
sprinkled,  ana  when  the  shrubs  and  flowers  in 
tubs  and  pots  were  watered  ;  they  helped  in 
the  work,  and  this  endeavor  to  promote 
growth  seemed  to  satisfy  a  thirst  in  them- 
selves. There  was  a  sense  of  beneficence 
in  doing  something  to  help  the  plants  which 
gave  beauty  and  freshness  to  day  and  night. 

"  Tell  me,"  Roland  once  asked  timidly, 
"  why  arc  there  thorns  on  a  rose-bush." 

"Why?"  answered  Eric.  "Certainly 
not  that  we  may  wound  ourselves  with 
them.  The  butterfly  and  the  bee  do  not 
hurt  themselves  with  the  thorns  of  the  rose 
nor  with  the  spines  of  the  thistle ;  they 
only  draw  honey  and  pollen  from  the  flower- 
cups.  Nature  has  not  adapted  herself  to 
the  muscular  conformation  of  man,  nor  in- 
deed to  man  at  all.  Everything  exists  for 
itself,  and  for  us  only  so  far  as  we  know 
how  to  use  and  enjoy  it.  But,  Roland,"  he 
added,  as  he  saw  that  the  boy  did  not  well 
understand  him,  *'  your  question  is  wrongly 


put.  For  what  purpose  ?  and  why  ?  these 
are  questions  for  ourselves,  not  for  the  rose- 
bush." 

The  park  and  garden  blossomed  and 
grew,  and  everything  in  its  place  waited 
quietly  for  the  return  of  its  master ;  in 
Roland,  too,  a  garden  was  planted  and  care- 
fully tended.  And  the  thought  comes, 
Will  the  master  of  this  garden,  and  will  his 
flowers  and  fruits,  bring  comfort  and  refresh- 
ment to  those  who  live  with*  him  on  the 
earth  ? 

The  nightingales  in  the  park  had  grown 
silent,  the  intoxicating  sweetness  of  the 
blossoms  had  fled,  there  was  a  quiet  growth 
everywhere. 

And  while  the  days  were  full  of  mental 
activity,  in  the  quiet  nights  Roland  and 
Eric  walked  along  the  mountain  paths,  and 
feasted  their  eyes  on  the  moonlit  landscape, 
where  on  one  side  the  mountains  threw 
their  shadows,  and  in  sharp  contrast  the 
moonlight  rested  on  the  vineyards,  and  the 
stars  shone  above  and  sparkled  in  the 
river.  An  air  of  blessed  peace  lay  over 
the  landscape,  and  the  wanderers  drank  it 
in  as  they  walked  on,  breaking  the  silence 
only  by  an  occasional  word.  These  hours 
brought  the  truest  benediction ;  in  them 
the  soul  wished  only  to  breathe,  to  gaze, 
to  dream  with  open  eyes,  and  to  be  con- 
scious of  the  inner  fulness,  and  of  the  on- 
flowing,  quiet,  prosperous  growth  of  na- 
ture.' The  vine  draws  nourishment  from 
earth  and  air,  and  in  such  hours  all  that  is 
developed  in  the  soul  by  nameless  forces 
ripens  there,  with  all  that  streams  into  it 
from  without. 


\ 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


183 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  hunter's  PLEASURE  AND  a  hunter's 
PAIN. 

Eric  took  great  care  not  to  change  Ro- 
land's bold  and  determined  character  into 
one  of  morbid  enthusiasm.  He  interposed 
between  the  studies  an  equal  measure  of 
physical  exercise,  fencing,  leaping,  riding, 
swimming,  and  rowing.  He  Avas  glad  that  he 
had  to  call  in  no  other  teacher,  and  he  gained 
new  strength,  and  maintained  his  constant 
intercourse  with  his  pupil,  by  taking  the 
lead  in  these  recreations. 

With  Fassbender's  help,  he  also  taught 
Roland  to  take  measurements  out  of  doors. 
Fassbender  was  extremely  skilful  in 
such  work,  but  he  constantly  showed  a 
humble  subinissiveness  towards  Roland, 
which  caused  Eric  much  vexation ;  and 
when  he  said  one  day  that  he  should  tell 
his  friend  Knopf  how  industrious  and 
clever  Roland  was,  the  boy  tossed  his  head 
in  displeasure.  He  evidently  wished  to 
hear  nothing  more  of  Knopf;  perhaps,  too, 
he  had  something  in  his  memory  of  which 
he  would  not  speak  to  Eric. 

Eric  laid  out « a  shooting-ground  for  Ro- 
land also,  not  wishing  to  withdraw  him 
from  his  accustomed  life  out  of  doors, 
where  he  had  roved  at  pleasure ;  only  it 
was  distinctly  understood  that  exercise  in 
the  open  air  was  to  come  after  mental 
work,  never  before  it. 

One  great  difficulty  lay  in  moderating 
Roland's  passion  for  hunting.  Eric  did  not 
wish  to  repress  it  altogether,  but  only  to 
keep  it  within  due  limits.  Now,  in  mid- 
summer, there  was  only  rabbit-hunting,  and 
Claus  came  to  take  Roland  out  with  him. 
Former  teachers  had  left  Roland  to  go 
alone  with  the  huntsman,  but  Eric  accom- 
panied them,  and  Roland  drew  in  new  life 
as  they  went  through  the  vineyards. 

Eric's  attention  was  roused  at  hearing 
Claus  say  that  Manna  had  been  an  ex- 
tremely bold  rider,  even  as  a  little  child, 
and  afterwards  as  a  growing  girl,  and  that 
her  father  had  always  taken  her  with  him 
on  a  hunt,  where  she  showed  the  wildest 
spirit.  Rose  and  Thistle  were  the  dogs 
which  had  belonged  to  her,  and  now  when- 
ever they  heard  her  name,  they  noticed  it 
directly,  and  looked  sharply  round  as  if  ex- 
pecting her. 

Eric  would  have  liked  to  ask  how  it  hap- 
pened that  a  bold  and  spirited  girl,  who  de- 
lighted in  hunting,  could  now  be  living  like 
a  penitent  in  a  convent.  It  was  hard  to 
bring  this  picture  of  her,  hunting  with  her 
gun  and  with  her  dogs,  into  harmony  with 
the  picture  of  the  winged  apparition.  But 


he  took  care  to  ask  Roland  no  questions, 
and  behaved  to  the  huntsman  as  if  he  had 
known  it  all  before. 

His  father  had  left  Roland  his  favorite 
dogs,  Rose  and  Thistle ;  they  were  small, 
but  powerfully  built,  with  broad  chest  and 
strong  back,  and  they  appeared  to  under- 
stand when  Roland  praised  them.  The 
smaller,  the  t  female,  with  red  chops  and 
many  scars  on  her  head,  always  licked 
his  hand  while  he  extolled  her  wonderful 
courage,  and  hung  her  head  when  he  said 
he  was  sorry  that  she  was  not  so  obedient 
as  the  somewhat  larger  male,  Thistle. 
With  sparkling  eyes,  which  seemed  to 
glance  with  modest  pleasure,  Thistle  looked 
at  Roland  when  he  explained  to  Eric  that 
the  dog  would  obey  only  English  words, 
but  byr  their  use  could  be  managed  per- 
fectly; if  he  called  out  to  him  "zurück! " 
Thistle  looked  at  him  as  if  deaf;  but  the 
moment  he  said  "  Come  back  !  "  he  fell  back 
a  foot  behind  him. 

They  passed  a  low  oak-tree ;  Roland 
seized  a  branch,  and  shook  it,  crying 
"Hang!"  and  Thistle  sprang  up,  caught 
the  branch  with  his  sharp  teeth,  and  re- 
mained hanging  to  it  till  Roland  told  him 
to  let  go.  Rose  performed  the  same  trick, 
and  even  outdid  herself,  for  she  whirled 
round  several  times  as  she  hung,  and  then, 
with  a  sudden  jerk,  broke  off  the  branch 
and  brought  it  to  Roland.  The  boy  and 
the  dogs  were  very  happy  together,  and 
seemed  to  understanü  equally  well  where 
they  were  going.  4 

r^hey  went  by  the  huntsman's  house, 
where  the  two  ferrets  were  put  into  a 
basket.  On  the  edge  of  the  wood,  Roland 
took  out  the  pretty  little  yellow  creatures, 
which  moved  in  a  sort  of  snake-like  way, 
and  put  muzzles  on  them,  caressing  them 
as  he  did  it.  They  then  went  into  the 
thicket,  where  fresh  burrows  were  soon 
found  ;  over  some  of  the  outlets,  nets  were 
spread,  and  Roland  was  delighted  at  the 
skilful  way  in  which  Eric  fastened  them 
down  with  pegs,  which  he  made  from  twigs 
cut  from  the  trees.  The  ferrets  were  let 
loose,  and  very  soon  a  rustling  was  heard, 
and  some  rabbits  came  into  the  nets,  and 
were  soon  bitten  and  shaken  to  death  by 
the  dogs.  The  ferrets  were  sent  in  again, 
and  the  hunters  stood  before  the  holes  to 
shoot  the  rabbits  as  they  came  out ;  Roland 
missed,  but  Eric  hit  his  mark. 

Eric  was  far  from  saying  anything  to  Ro- 
land of  the  cruelty  shown,  especially  in  the 
net-hunting,  and  the  manner  in  which  the 
dogs  bit  at  the  eyes  of  the  poor  creatures, 
and  never  let  go  till  all  struggling  ceased  ; 
he  was  enough  of  a  hunter  to  overlook  this. 


184 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


Claus  knew  how  to  smother  pity  by  in- 
veighing against  the  confounded  rabbits, 
which  gnawed  at  the  young  vines  and 
spoiled  them  and  all  that  was  best  in  the 
fields ;  he  imitated  one  of  the  peasants  who 
always  struck  at  a  rabbit  with  his  stick, 
crying,  — 

"  Havel  got  you  at  last,  you  damned  —  " 

After  they  had  gone  farther  on,  Rose 
went  into  a  hole,  and  they  heard  her  bark- 
ing deep  down  under  ground.  She  had 
found  a  fox.  The  hunter's  excitement 
awoke  in  Eric,  and  they  all  stood  quietly 
on  the  watch.  Thistle  was  also  sent  into 
the  hole,  and  his  bark  was  heard  far  below, 
but  the  fox  did  not  come  out.  Soon  Rose 
appeared  with  her  nose  torn  and  bleeding  ; 
she  looked  up  at  the  hunters  and  went  back 
into  the  hole ;  whining  and  barking  were 
heard,  and  at  last  the  dogs  came  back, 
streaming  with  blood,  but  no  fox  appeared  ; 
they  waited  long,  but  in  vain. 

"They  have  killed  him,"  said  the  hunts- 
man in  triumph  ;  "we  shall  never  get  him." 

Roland  was  full  of  tender  compassion  for 
the  dogs,  but  Claus  consoled  him  with  the 
assurance  that  they  would  soon  get  over 
their  hurts.  Roland  said  he  could  not  un- 
derstand how  dogs  could  bite  a  fox  to 
death,  when  a  fox  had  such  sharp  teeth ; 
the  huntsman  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but 
Eric  answered  :  — 

"The  fox  bites  sharply,  but  does  not 
hold  on.11 

Roland  looked  at  Eric  in  surprise,  feel- 
in  &  that  he  was  a  man  from  whom  every- 
thing could  be  learned ;  all  Eric's  knowl- 
edge had  hardly  made  so  much  impression 
as  this  single  remark. 

Again  they  sent  the  ferrets  into  a  fresh 
burrow  ;  only  one  came  out ;  they  waited 
long  and  left  the  huntsman  on  the  spot,  but 
the  second  ferret  was  not  to  be  seen.  Ro- 
land was  inconsolable  i'or  the  loss  of  the 
fine  little  creature,  so  bright  and  tame. 
"When  Eric  said  tliat  the  animal  would  die 
of  hunger  in  the  woods,  with  its  mouth  so 
firmly  muzzled,  Roland  walked  on  for  some 
time  in  silence.  Suddenly  he  put  his  hand 
into  the  basket,  took  out  the  other  ferret 
and  let  it  loose,  then  took  aim  and  shot  it 
down;  he  left  the  dead  creature  lying  un- 
disturbed in  the  wood,  and  walked  home 
with  Eric  without  a  word.  He  looked  long 
at  his  gun ;  Eric  knew  that  it  would  be 
many  days  before  its  report  would  be  heard 
again,  and  so  it  was. 

From  the  time  of  this  last  hunt,  a  cold- 
ness and  ill-humor,  reluctance  and  li  sties  s- 
ness,  appeared  in  Roland ;  he  was  not  ex- 
actly rebellious,  but  did  everything  without 
interest,  and  often  looked  strangely  at  Eric. 


Eric  did  not  know  what  to  do ;  for  sev- 
eral days  he  was  much  disquieted,  feeling 
that  he  was  no  longer  a  novelty  to  Roland, 
and  that  the  sense  of  satiety  which  tor- 
ments the  rich,  who  never  can  long  enjoy 
the  same  thing,  increased  as  it  was  in  Ro- 
land by  his  wandering  life,  was  producing 
apathy  and  discontent  in  him;  he  must  be 
taught  to  greet  with  pleasure  the  day  which 
brought  no  new  thing,  but  only  a  repetition 
of  the  day  before. 

The  huntsman  came  to  Eric,  took  him 
aside,  and  said :  — 

"I've  found  the  ferret  that  ran  away 
from  us." 

"Where?" 

"  In  the  wood  yonder,  there  it  lies  with 
its  muzzle  on,  starved  to  death,  and  eaten 
up  by  the  ants." 

"  We  will  say  nothing  of  it  to  Roland." 

"  Certainly  not.  Do  you  know  what  the 
ferret's  name  was  ?  " 

"No." 

"  It  was  Knopf.  He  only  called  it  '  mas- 
ter,' because  you  were  present.  It  always 
vexed  me ;  Herr  Knopf  is  certainly  super- 
stitious, dreadfully  superstitious,  but  one 
of  the  best  men  in  the  world.  Roland  has 
told  me  in  confidence,  that,  on  the  journey 
which  he  made  to  force  you  to  come  back, 
a  spirit  appeared  to  him  in  the  wood  one 
morning,  a  fairy-princess,  as  stupid,  super- 
stitious men  would  say,  —  a  wonderful  child 
with  light  curling  hair,  but  she  spoke  Eng- 
lish, —  only  think,  spirits  speak  English  too 
now,  —  she  came  to  him  early  in  the  morn- 
ing in  the  forest.  .That's  the  sort  of  stuff 
Herr  Knopf  has  put  into  his  head.  I  don't 
want  to  say  anything  against  Herr  Knopf ; 
he's  a  good  man,  he  taught  poor  children 
for  nothing,  and  did  good,  much  good,  but 
belief  in  spirits  and  such  nonsense  ought  to 
be  put  an  end  to.  Don't  you  notice  how 
bad  Roland  looks  now  ?  I  think  the  belief 
in  spirits  is  to  blame  for  this.  Drive  it  out 
of  his  mind  right  sharply." 

Eric  doubted  whether  this  was  what  pro- 
duced Roland's  continued  ill-humor,  but 
he  was  struck  by  his  having  told  the  hunts- 
man something  which  he  had  never  con- 
fided to  him.  But  he  would  not  force  his 
confidence  and  disturb  the  boy's  mind ;  he 
would  wait  quietly  till  the  cloud  passed 
over. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

FRESH  WINE,  FRESH    SONG,  AND  FRESH 
FAME. 

The  Doctor  had  called,  in  the  meanwhile, 
but  only  for  a  brief  quarter  of  an  hour  at  a 
time ;  he  commended  Eric  for  so  taking 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


185 


upon  himself  the  entire  direction  of  Roland, 
and  devoting  himself  to  him  so  exclusively  ; 
he  desired  that  no  intervention  of  his 
should  interrupt  the  inflowing  of  the  moral 
and  spiritual  influence. 

Eric  now  detained  him,  speaking  of  Ro- 
land's paleness,  which  he  thought  an  indica- 
tion of  sickness. 

"Indeed?1'  cried  the  Doctor.  "Has  it 
taken  so  soon?  I  am  glad  that  it  has  made 
its  appearance  on  the  surface  so  early  and 
so  decidedly." 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it,  then  ?  " 

"  It's  all  right  and  normal ;  symptoms  all 
good.  My  dear  young  friend,  I  call  it  usu- 
ally the  May-cold.  Just  consider  a  mo- 
ment !  Roland  was  born  for  a  huntsman, 
and  I  was  afraid  you  would  turn  him  into  a 
pebble-gatherer  or  a  beetle-sticker.  I  see 
very  plainly,  that  you  would  like  to  give 
him  a  deeper  apprehension  of  life, .  but 
there  lies  the  danger  that  he  will  take  it 
too  seriously  ;  now  the  best  prescription  for 
life  is,  to  take  life  easily." 

Eric  chimed  in  with  this,  acknowledg- 
ing that  he  was  far  from  desiring  to  make 
Roland  a  pattern  youth,  perfect  in  every 
particular.    The  Doctor  continued :  — 

"  As  I  said  before,  our  lad  is  troubled  with 
the  May-cold.  Whenever  there  is  a  change 
in  the  relations  of  life,  as  change  of  occupa- 
tion, or  marriage,  where  the  previous  inde- 
pendence is  given  up,  after  the  first  weeks  of 
bloom,  notwithstanding  all  the  happiness 
enjoyed,  comes  in  the  May-cold,  just  as 
we  see  in  nature.  They  say  that  it  comes 
from  the  Alps,  from  the  melting  of  the  ice- 
bergs there  ;  perhaps  icebergs  of  egotism  melt 
within,  and  at  any  rate,  it  is  like  a  renewed 
struggle  of  winter  with  summer,  like  a 
struggle  of  solitariness  with  sociality. 
Don't  be  despairing !  Let  the  days  of  chilly 
convalescence  pass  over  the  lad,  and  all 
will  be  well.  Don't  press  him  hard  in 
these  days  ;  he  is  already  beginning  to  feel 
as  if  he  had  come  under  a  yoke.  More- 
over, I  will  give  him  some  medicine, 
so  that  he  '  shall  think  he  is  npt  well ;  this 
will  be  an  advantage  to  him,  and  to  you 
too,  for  you  can  then  give  way  to  him,  as 
an  invalid  is  expected  to  be  perverse,  and 
to  be  humored,  as  a  matter  of  course." 

The  Doctor  now  came  more  frequently. 
He  proposed  to  Eric  to  make  a  longer  visit 
at  Mattenheim,  in  accordance  with  Weid- 
mann's  invitation,  as  the  contemplation  of  a 
life  full  of  a  many-sided  activity  would  re- 
fresh both  teacher  and  pupil.  Eric  replied 
that  he  did  not  consider  it  right  to  leave, 
for  any  length  of  time,  the  house  that  had 
been  entrusted  to  his  care.  The  Doctor 
assented,  thinking  it  better  that  Roland 


should  first  become  thoroughly  familiar 
with  the  Rhine-home. 

Eric  and  Roland  now  often  accompanied 
the  Doctor  some  distance  on  his  rounds, 
and  both  acquired  together  a  deeper  ac- 
quaintance with  the  life  of  the  Rhineland. 
The  Doctor  explained  that  he  had  an  object 
in  this,  holding  that  it  was  a  very  important 
thing  in  a  man's  life  to  make  a  point  of 
getting  the  best  wines  that  could  be  had, 
and  carrying  out  his  point.  Roland  could 
and  should  do  that.  It  was  no  less  impor- 
tant to  procure  the  good  wine  of  the  world, 
than  its  beautiful  works  of  art.  And  if  a 
sense  of  his  dependence  upon  the  Rhineland 
were  instilled  into  Roland,  much  that  was 
noble  would  result,  especially  if  he  could 
be  brought  into  connection  with  the  family 
of  Weidmann. 

The  Doctor  was  the  best  of  directories, 
knowing  every  house  and  its  inmates  very 
intimately,  and  speaking  of  everybody  with 
discriminating  justice,  showing  the  dark  as 
well  as  the  bright  side  with  equal  impar- 
tiality. House  after  house  furnished  them 
with  a  refreshing  sketch  of  life,  and  cellar 
after  cellar  with  a  refreshing  draught. 

"They  talk  about  the  deterioration  of 
the  race,"  said  the  Doctor  edifyingly,  "  and 
there  seems  to  be  a  chronic  ailment,  but  it 
is  not  dangerous.  People  use  themselves 
as  filters  and  pour  in  wine ;  so  it  has  always 
been  ;  and  so  it  will  be.  If  the  sun  shines 
very  hot,  they  think  they  are  entitled  to 
drink ;  and  if  the  weather  is  disagreeable 
and  wet,  they  must  strengthen  themselves 
with  a  good  draught." 

They  alighted  at  a  house,  which  had  in 
front  a  statue  of  the  Holy  Mother  with  a  lan- 
tern in  her  hand. 

"  Up-stairs  here,"  said  the  Docf^r,  "  pure 
genuine  wine  is  sold ;  the  man  here  supplies 
the  church  and  the  church  dignitaries  with 
the  communion  wine,  which  must  be  una- 
dulterated. This  man's  father  is  a  famous 
embroiderer  of  church-cloths,  and  his 
brother  an  illustrious  painter  of  saints  ;  and 
when  people  can  turn  their  religion  to  any 
profit,  they  it  hold  it  in  sacred  earnest.  The 
main  point  is,  not  to  impugn  the  uprightness 
of  believers,  and  then  they  are  inclined  not  to 
question  the  uprightness  of  us  unbelievers." 

They  went  on  farther  to  another  house, 
and  the  Doctor  said :  — 

"  Here  dwelt  a  merry  rogue,  who  has  ac- 
tually made  the  house  haunted ;  he  was  an 
old  screech-owl,  a  mason  by  trade.  It's 
known  that  he  had  a  little  chest  made  by  a 
carpenter,  with  a  lock  by  a  lock-smith ;  and 
this  chest  he  walled  into  the  cellar,  which 
he  built  alone  by  himself.  It  is  now  be- 
lieved that  there  must  have  been  a  consider- 


186 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


able  sum  of  money  concealed  therein ;  and 
yet  he  may  have  been  rogue  enough  to  hide 
there  an  empty  box,  in  order  to  play  a  joke 
upon  those  who  should  come  after  him. 
And  now  the  people  are  undecided  whether 
to  pull  down  the  house  or  not,  in  order  to 
find  the  box.  It's  possible  they  may  find  an 
empty  one,  and  have  a  demolished  house 
for  their  pains." 

The  Doctor  gave  such  a  turn  to  his  infor- 
mation about  men  and  things,  that  Roland 
could  derive  advantage  from  it. 

The  Doctor  greeted  in  a  very  friendly 
way  an  old  man  with  a  crafty  countenance, 
who  was  sitting  in  front  of  his  house.  The 
man  asked  the  physician  if  he  would  not 
take  another  drop  of  "the  black  cat,"  and 
they  went  with  Eric  and  Roland  into  the 
cellar,  where  they  drank  a  fiery  wine  from 
a  cask  on  which,  in  fact,  a  black  cat  was 
.sitting,  though  it  was  an  artificial  one  with 
shining  glass  eyes.  The  old  man  was  ex- 
cessively merry ;  and  clinking  glasses  with 
Roland,  he  said  :  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  are  all  bunglers  compared 
with  your  father." 

Then,  with  great  gusto,  he  praised  the 
shrewdness  and  craft  of  Sonnenkamp,  and 
Eric  looked  timidly  at  Roland,  who  appeared 
to  be  but  little  affected  by  what  was  said ; 
when  they  went  away  the  Doctor  said :  — 

"  This  is  the  genuine  peasant,  for  the 
genuine  peasant  is  really  the  greatest  ego- 
tist, thinking  only  of  his  own  profit,  though 
the  whole  world  beside  should  fall  to  pieces. 
This  is  the  old  burgomaster  who  lent  money 
to  people  needing  it,  and  when  a  bad  sea- 
son came,  he  made  an  immediate  demand 
for  it,  with  unrelenting  harshness,  so  that 
their  vineyards  were  sold  at  public  auction ; 
and  now  he  possesses  a  large  landed  prop- 
erty, yielding  the  best  wines.  Yes  ;  he  is  a 
cunning  rascal." 

This  narrative  produced  a  wholly  differ- 
ent impression  upon  Eric  from  what  it  did 
upon  Roland,  for  the  latter  considered  that 
the  rascality  was  a  matter  of  course.  Eric ; 
looked  askance  at  the  Doctor,  for  he  could 
not  conceive  how  he  could  be  on  such 
friendly  terms  with  the  burgomaster :  and 
when  he  further  asked  whether  the  man  was 
respected,  he  received  an  emphatic  response 
in  the  affirmative,  inasmuch  as  property  se- 
cured respect  in  the  country. 

They  also  stopped  at  the  gauger's,  the 
good-humored  brother  of  the  whole  country 
around,  and  were  led  by  him  through  the 
wine-vaults,  and -Supplied  with  many  a  good 
drop  to  drink.  The  gauger  always  liked  to 
tell  stories  that  were  not  always  fit  for  a  boy 
to  hear,  but  the  Doctor  soon  led  him  to  a 
different  subject. 


The  gauger  always  carried  with  him 
some  flour  bread,  which  he  called  his  "lit- 
tle sponge."  "  With  straw,"  he  said, 
"  they  tie  up  the  wines,  and  with  this  little 
piece  of  bread,  that  has  been  grown  from 
the  straw,  I  fasten  in  the  wine."  They  had 
calculated  that  the  gauger  had  drunk,  dur- 
ing his  life-time,  seventy  butts  of  wine;  but 
he' asserted  that  they  had  been  very  tender 
to  him,  for  he  had  drunk  a  great  deal  more 
than  that. 

It  was  a  merry,  exhilarating  life  into 
which  Eric  and  Roland  were  inducted,  and 
when  they  returned  to  their  strict  method  of 
study,  there  was  a  deep  realization  of  the 
fact  that  they  were  living  in  the  midst  of  a 
merry  region,  where  existence  can  be  easily 
wasted  in  play. 

It  was  midsummer,  and  there  came  cold, 
windy,  disagreeable  days,  when  it  seemed 
that  summer  had  departed,  and  yet  it  could 
not  be,  it  must  become  hot  again.  The 
nightingale  was  voiceless  ;  it  had  not  ceased 
to  sing  all  at  once,  but  seemed  to  utter  oc- 
casionally single  notes  from  memory,  while 
there  were  heard  more  frequently  the  thin 
voices  of  the  linnets,  or  the  full,  short  call 
of  the  blackbirds.  The  summer  shoots  on 
the  leafy  trees  showed  that  the  summer  had 
reached  its  height,  and  was  declining; 
the  forest-trees  had  attained  their  season's 
growth,  and  the  song  of  birds  had  ceased, 
except  that  the  unwearied  black-cap  still 
twittered,  and  the  magpies  chattered  among 
the  branches. 

Eric  and  Roland  often  sailed  upon  the 
Rhine,  and  Eric  sang ;  he  was  rejoiced  to 
hear  Roland  say :  — 

"Yes,  it  is  so.  A  person  can  sing  at  all 
seasons  of  the  year,  if  he  has  a  mind  to." 

Eric  nodded,  feeling  that  the  conscious- 
ness of  art  and  of  a  free  humanity  had  been 
awakened  in  Roland ;  and  he  now  said  that 
they  would  absent  themselves  for  a  few 
days  from  the  house,  and  proposed  to  Ro- 
land two  plans :  either  they  would  go  to 
Herr  Weidmann's,  of  whom  there  had  been 
so  much  said,  or  to  the  great  musical  festi- 
val that  was  to  take  place  at  the  Fortress. 
Boats  ornamented  with  parti-colored  stream- 
ers, having  singers  on  board,  went  up  the 
river  and  were  greeted  at  all  the  landings 
with  the  firing  of  cannon.  Roland  requested 
to  go  to  the  festival,  and  he  wanted  to  walk  a 
part  of  the  way,  desiring  to  see  again,  and 
this  time  in  company  with  Eric,  the  road 
over  which  he  had  wandered  by  night. 

They  set  out  in  good  spirits,  and  Roland 
was  very  talkative,  relating  to  Eric  all  his 
adventures.  They  came  to  the  wood,  and 
Roland  gave  an  account  of  his  falling  asleep, 
and  of  his  wonderful  dream.    He  blushed 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


187 


while  telling  it,  and  Eric  did  not  ask  what 
his  dream  Was.  Roland  went  silently  into 
the  wood. 

44  Here  it  is  ;  here  it  is  !  "  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed. "  Here  is  my  porte-monnaie  !  God 
be  praised  and  thanked,  I  have  not  been 
robbed.  Come,  let  us  go  to  the  village, 
where  the  hostler  lives  whom  I  suspected, 
and  I  will  give  him  all  the  money.1' 

They  proceeded  to  the  village,  but  the 
hostler  was  not  there,  having  been  drafted 
into  the  military  service. 

Roland  was  very  sorry  at  that,  and  wrote 
down  the  man's  name  in  his  memorandum- 
book. 

The  two  went  on  through  the  country 
clothed  in  the  green  of  summer,  and  when 
they  reached  the  railroad,  took  the  cars  for 
the  Fortress.  All  was  here  decked  with 
flags,  and  the  whole  town  appeared  in  holi- 
day attire.  Men  and  women  streamed  in 
from  all  quarters,  some  on  boats  and  some 
in  the  cars,  singing  in  clear  tones,  and  were 
received  with  a  hearty  welcome.  Eric  was 
happy  to  be  able  to  say  to  his  pupil :  — 

' '  Remember  that  this  belongs  to  us .  Nei- 
ther the  Greeks  nor  the  Romans  had  such 
celebrations,  nor  any  other  nation  but  us 
Germans." 

They  spent  the  night  at  the  Fortress,  and 
the  next  morning  all  assembled,  the  hun- 
dreds of  male  and  female  singers,  and  a 
great  crowd  of  listeners,  in  the  festival  hall 
now  properly  ornamented,  but  at  other 
times  used  as  a  fruit-market.  A  gloomy 
rumor  was  spread  through  the  assembly ; 
the  singers  shook  their  heads,  and  clapped 
together  their  hands,  while  among  the  audi- 
ence there  was  a  commotion  and  a  rustling. 

A  man  of  fine  voice,  an  experienced 
singer,  had  been  suddenly  taken  ill. 

"  Look  yonder,"  said  Roland ;  "  there  sit 
nuns,  and  there  are  pupils,  in  the  school- 
dress  that  they  wear  at  Manna's  convent. 
Ah,  if  Manna  should  be  here  too  !  " 

Eric  said  to  Roland  :  — 

"  btay  here  ;  I  will  see  if  I  can  be  of  any 
assistance.  I  depend  upon  your  not  quit- 
ting this  seat." 

He  went  up  to  the  singers  on  the  plat- 
form, and  spoke  earnestly  to  the  leader,  by 
whose  side  he  stood.  Men  came  up  to  them 
while  they  were  talking  together,  and  went 
away  again.  Suddenly  all  eyes  were  turned 
towards  Eric,  and  a  whispering  and  a  buzz- 
ing went  through  the  assembly.  Master 
Ferdinand,  the  conductor,  tapped  with  his 
baton,  and  his  look,  which  directed  and  in- 
spired all,  was  smiling.  There  was  silence, 
and  in  a  tone  that  won  all  hearts  he  said : — 

"  Our  baritone  has  unfortunately  been 
taken  ill,  and  this  gentleman  by  my  side, 


who  does  not  wish  his  name  to  be  men- 
tioned, has  kindly  offered  to  undertake  the 
solos  for  our  absent  friend.  You,  as  well 
as  we,  will  be  grateful  to  him,  and  willingly 
extend  to  him  the  requested  indulgence,  as 
he  has  made  no  rehearsals  with  us." 

A  universal  applause  was  the  reply. 

The  choruses  began,  and  their  tones,  like 
the  voice  of  many  waters,  moved  Roland's 
soul.  Now  Eric  rose.  All  hearts  were 
beating.  But  at  the  first  tone  he  uttered, 
each  one  of  the  singers,  and  each  one  of  the 
listeners,  looked  to  his  neighbor  and  nodded. 
It  was  a  voice,  so  full,  so  deep,  so  penetra- 
ting the  heart,  that  all  held  their  breath  as 
they  listened.  And  when  he  had  ended,  a 
storm  of  applause  broke  forth  which  seemed 
almost  to  shake  the  hall. 

Eric  sat  down,  and  the  choruses  and  then 
other  solo  performers  sang ;  again  he  rose, 
and  yet  again,  and  his  voice  seemed  to  grow 
still  more  powerful,  and  to  penetrate  more 
deeply  into  the  hearts  of  all. 

But  how  was  it  with  Roland,  one  of  the 
thousands  who  listened,  and  who  were 
thrilled  by  the  sound  of  this  voice,  in  the 
depths  of  their  souls  ? 

The  choruses  rolled  in  like  billows  of  the 
resounding  sea,  but  when  Eric  sang,  it  was 
as  if  he  stood  upon  the  deck  of  a  noble  ship, 
and  ruled  over  all ;  and  this  voice  was  so 
near  to  Roland  in  its  friendliness,  and  yet 
so  nobly  exalted !  The  youth  was  pos- 
sessed by  that  feeling  of  blissful,  dreamy 
gladness  which  music  awakes  in  us,  trans- 
planting it  into  the  depths  of  our  own  life, 
and  causing  us  to  forget  our  own  dreams, 
and  merging  our  own  individual  self  in  the 
sad  and  blissful  element  of  being. 

Roland  wept ;  Eric's  voice  seemed  to  waft 
him  upwards  into  an  invisible  world,  and 
then  the  choruses  began  again,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  transported  into  a  heavenly 
state  of  existence. 

Roland  wanted  to  tell  his  neighbor  who 
the  man  was,  for  he  heard  on  all  sides  ques- 
tions and  conjectures ;  but  he  said  to  him- 
self: — 

"  No  one  else  knows  who  he  is,  except 
me." 

His  eye  now  swept  again  over  the  collec- 
tion of  girls  dressed  in  blue,  and  one  of 
them  nodded  to  him.  Yes,  it  is  she !  it  is 
Manna !  He  requested  those  sitting  near 
him  to  let  him  pass  through  them ;  he  wanted 
to  go  to  his  sister  and  to  tell  her  who  it  was 
that  had  just  brought  such  blessedness  into 
the  hearts  of  all.  But  he  was  repelled  with 
vehemence,  and  his  neighbors  scolded  about 
the  saucy  youth,  who  was  so  restless  and 
out  of  humor,  and  wanted  to  create  a  dis- 
turbance. 


188 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  TÖE  RHINE. 


Roland  remained  quiet,  and  by  that  means 
let  slip  the  suitable  opportunity  of  the  inter- 
mission, for  pressing  through  the  crowd  to 
Manna. 

The  Oratorio  was  ended,  but  the  applause 
of  the  assembly,  did  not  seem  likely  to 
end.  There  was  a  universal  call  for  the 
stranger's  name. 

"Name!  Name!"  resounded  from  a 
thousand  lips,  with  noisy  demonstrations 
and  shouts. 

Then  Master  Ferdinand  tapped  with  his 
baton  again  upon  his  desk,  nodding  in  a 
friendly  manner  to  Eric,  who  held  back, 
and  all  cried  :  — 

"  Silence !  " 

Eric  rose,  saying  in  a  composed  voice,  — 
"  My  sincere  thanks.  That  I  have  been 
able  to  take  part  here,  has  been  to  me  a 
divine  service,  a  service  to  divine  art ;  and 
because  1  do  not  desire  by  any  unfamiliar 
name  to  lessen  the  feeling  of  devotion 
awakened  within  you,  and  for  this  reason 
only,  have  I  been  reluctant  to  give  you  my 
name." 

"Name!  name!11  was  again  called  out 
by  the  assembly. 

"  My  name  is  Doctor  Dournay.11 

"  Huzza !  Huzza  ! 11  burst  out  the  whole 
assembly,  and  the  orchestra  played  a  three- 
fold tiourish,  all  shouting  :  — 

"  Huzza,  Doctor  Dournay.11 

Eric  was  almost  crushed,  and  his  shoul- 
ders ached  with  the  congratulatory  strokes 
upon  them. 

He  saw  himself  surrounded  by  those  who 
were  already  acquainted  with  him,  and 
those  who  desired  to  make  his  acquaintance. 
The  assembly  dispersed. 

Eric  looked  around  for  Roland,  but  he 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  walked 
about  the  square  in  front  of  the  music-hall, 
and  then  returned  to  it ;  here  he  found 
everything  in  confusion,  for  they  were  rush- 
ing in  every  direction,  setting  the  tables  for 
the  festival-dinner.  He  waited  a  long  time, 
for  he  felt  convinced  that  Roland  had  got 
lost  in  the  crowd,  and  would  come  back 
here. 

At  last  Roland  came,  with  glowing  cheeks. 

"  It  was  she!11  he  exclaimed.  "I  went 
with  her  and  her  schoolmates  to  the  boat, 
and  they  have  now  set  off. 

"  O  Eric,  how  splendid  it  is,  how  splendid, 
that  you  sang,  for  the  first  time,  to  her ! 
And  she  said  you  could  not  be  so  godless, 
for  you  sang  so  devoutly.  She  said  that  I 
was  not  to  tell  you  this,  but  she  is  a  rogue, 
she  meant  that  I  should  tell  you.  O  Eric  ! 
and  the  Justice^  Lina,  and  the  Architect, 
too,  are  among  the  singers  ;  they  are  walk- 
ing arm  in  arm,  and  they  recognized  you, 


but  they  did  not  betray  you.  O  Eric,  how 
you  did  sing !  it  seemed  to  me  that  you 
could  fly  too ;  I  was  every  moment  afraid 
that  you  would  spread  your  wings  and  fly 
away.11 

The  youth  was  in  a  state  of  feverish  ex- 
citement. 

An  usher  came  to  invite  Eric  and  his 
brother  —  such  he  supposed  Roland  to  be  — 
to  be  present  at  the  dinner  and  to  sit  near 
the  director. 

Others  came  who  knew  him,  and  strang- 
ers who  wished  to  be  introduced. 

A  photographer,  who  was  one  of  the  solo 
singers,  besought  Eric  to  allow  him  to  take 
his  photograph,  while  he  was  waiting  for 
dinner,  as  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  the 
singers  wanted  to  have  a  picture  of  him. 

Eric  declined,  with  thanks,  these  mani- 
festations of  friendliness,  and  took,  with 
Roland  the  first  boat  to  return  to  the  villa. 

Roland  went  into  the  cabin,  and  he  was 
soon  sound  asleep ;  Eric  sat  alone  upon  the 
deck,  and  he  was  troubled  with  the  thought 
of  having  been  brought  so  prominently  be- 
fore the  public.  But  he  considered,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  there  are  times  when  our 
powers  do  not  belong  to  ourselves  alone, 
and  when  we  cannot  ourselves  determine 
what  Aye  will  do.  I  did  what  I  was  obliged 
to  do,  he  thought. 

When  they  came  to  the  stopping-place, 
Roland  had  to  be  waked  up.  He  was 
almost  dragged  into  the  row-boat,  and  he 
was  so  confused  and  bewildered,  that  he 
did  not  seem  to  know  what  was  going  on 
around  him. 

After  they  had  disembarked,  he  said :  — 

"Eric,  your  name  is  now  repeated  by 
thousands  and  thousands  of  people,  and 
you  are  now  very  famous.11 

Roland,  who  had  never  sung  before,  now 
sang,  the  whole  way  home,  a  strain  of  the 
chorus. 

They  found  at  the  villa  letters  from  Eri^s 
mother  and  from  Herr  Sonnenkamp.  His 
mother  wrote,  that  he  must  not  mind  it  if 
he  were  reproached  with  having  sold  so 
cheaply  and  so  speedily  his  ideal  views,  for 
people  were  angry,  and  were  partially  right 
in  being  so,  at  his  abrupt  departure  without 
saying  good-bye. 

Eric  smiled,  for  he  knew  right  well  how 
they  would  have  their  fill  of  jesting  about 
him  around  the  so-called  black  table  at  the 
Club-house,  where,  year  after  year,  the 
shining  oil-cloth  was  spread  over  the  untidy 
table-cloth.  It  appeared  incomprehensible 
to  him  how  he  could  ever  have  fancied 
spending  there  a  day  of  his  life,  or  a  bright 
evening. 

Sonnenkaaip's  letter  made  a  wholly  dif- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


189 


ferent  impression;  he  authorized  Eric,  in 
case  he  thought  it  worth  while,  to  take  the 
journey  to  Biarritz  with  Roland. 

"  My  father  will  like  it,  too,  that  you  have 
received  so  much  honor;  the  nun,  indeed, 
who  accompanied  Manna,  said  that  he 
would  not  take  it  well,  that  you  had  made 
yourself  so  notorious." 

Eric  looked  disturbed.  The  feeling  of 
servitude  and  dependence  came  over  him. 
He  had  pledged  his  whole  personal  being  to 
Sonnenkamp's  service,  and  in  all  his  actions 
he  must  first  ask  himself  the  question,  how 
they  may  perhaps  be  taken  by  his  master. 

The  whole  day  was  now  strewed  over 
with  ashes,  and  in  place  of  the  lofty  feelings 
that  had  animated  him,  he  now  experienced 
a  degree  of  depression  of  spirit. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
one's  FELLOW-MAN. 

Again  the  days  flowed  quietly  on  in  work 
and  recreation.  One  day  Claus  came  and 
asked  Roland  to  keep  his  promise  of  show- 
ing him  the  whole  villa  from  top  to  bottom. 

"Whvdo  you  want  to  see  it?"  asked 
Eric. 

"I  should  like  for  once  to  see  all  the 
things  which  rich  people  have,  to  know 
what  they  do  with  all  their  money." 

A  knavish  glance  shot  from  the  hunts- 
man's eye,  as  he  spoke.  Eric  gave  the  re- 
quested permission;  he  woul^l  have  pre- 
ferred to  send  a  servant,  but  he  went  him- 
self with  the  man,  of  whom  he  felt  a  sort  of 
dread,  not  liking  to  leave  him  alone  with 
Roland.  He  could  scarcely  give  a  reason 
for  his  uneasiness,  except  that  the  manner 
in  which  the  huntsman  dwelt  upon  the  rich 
and  poor  might  confuse  Roland's  mind. 

They  went  through  all  the  stories  of  the 
house,  and  Claus,  who  hardly  dared  to  put 
his  foot  down,  kept  saying, — 

"Yes,  yes,  all  this  can  be  had  for  money  ! 
what  can't  be  got  for  money  ?  " 

In  the  great  music-hall,  he  stood  on  the 
platform,  and  called  to  Eric  and  Roland : 

"  Herr  Captain,  may  I  ask  a  question  ?  " 

"If  I  can  answer  it,  why  shouldn't 
you  ?  " 

»"  Tell  me  fairly  and  honestly,  what  would 
you  do,  if  you  —  you  are  a  liberal-minded 
man  and  a  friend  of  humanity  —  what 
would  you  do,  if  you  were  the  owner  of 
this  house  and  so  many  millions  ?" 

The  huntsman's  loud  voice  resounded 
through  the  great  hall  with  a  discordant 
echo,  which  seemed  as  if  it  would  never 
cease. 

"What  would  you  do?"  he  repeated. 
"Do  you  know  no  answer? " 


"  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  give  you 
one." 

"  All  right ;  I  knew  you  couldn't." 

He  came  down  from  the  platform,  saying, 
"I  am  field-guard,  and  as  I  wander  about 
at  night,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  pos- 
sessed of  an  evil  spirit,  which  I  can't  get 
rid  of.  I  can't  help  thinking  all  the  time, 
what  would  you  do  if  you  had  many  mil- 
lions ?  It  drives  me  almost  crazy ;  I  can't 
get  away  from  it,  and  it  appears  that  you 
can't  answer  the  question,  either." 

"  What  would  you  do  ?  "  asked  Eric. 

"  Have  you  no  idea  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  much  money,"  answered  Claus, 
laughing  maliciously,  "first  of  all  I'd  cud- 
gel the  Landrath  to  a  jelly,  even  if  it  cost 
a  thousand  gulden ;  it's  worth  the  money." 

"But  then?" 

"Yes,  then  —  that  I  don't  know." 

Eric  looked  at  Roland,  who  looked  back 
at  him  with  dull,  troubled  eyes,  and  com- 
pressed lips .  The  unconsciousness  of  wealth 
to  which  Knopf  had  alluded  seemed  des- 
troyed, suddenly  and  unseasonably  up- 
rooted. Roland  could  never  be  led  back 
to  it,  and  yet  was  not  mature  enough  to  see 
his  way  forward. 

Eric  said  to  Roland  in  English,  that  he 
would  clear  up  the  matter  for  him,  but  that 
it  was  impossible  to  find  an  answer  fit  for 
an  ignorant  man. 

"  Would  an  ignorant  man  have  asked  the 
question  ?  "  answered  Roland  in  the  same 
language. 

Eric  remained  silent,  for  he  could  not 
disturb  and  spoil  the  clear  preception  of 
his  pupil,  even  to  relieve  and  set  him  at 
rest. 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  laughed  the  huntsman  scorn- 
fully, "now  I'm  rid  of  it,  now  you've  got 
it.  Wherever  you  go  or  rest  you  will 
hear  what  I've  been  asking  myself  in  all  the 
passages  and  all  the  rounds.  Very  well ! 
if  you  ever  find  the  answer,  let  me  have 
the  benefit  of  it." 

He  put  on  his  hat  and  went  away.  It 
was  impossible  to  fix  Roland's  attention 
upon  anything  throughout  that  day  ;  he  sat 
alone  in  his  room ;  late  at  night,  after  Eric 
had  been-  asleep,  he  heard  him  go  into  the 
library  to  get  something. 

Eric  let  him  take  his  own  course,  then 
going  into  the  library,  he  saw  that  it  was 
the  Bible  which  he  had  taken  ;  he  was  prob- 
ably reading  the  passage  concerning  the 
rich  young  man ;  the  seed,  which  had  un- 
til now  lain  dormant,  was  beginning  to 
sprout.  Eric  had  pursued  his  work  of  quiet 
preparation  until  now,  when  an  outside  in- 
fluence had  come  in,  and  with  rude  grasp 
had  awakened  what  should  have  slept  on. 


190 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


What  is  all  our  teaching  and  preparation 
for?  It  is  the  same  in  external  nature ;  the 
buds  swell  quietly  till  a  wild  tempest  bursts 
them  suddenly  open.  Now  the  wild  tem- 
pest had  swept  over  Roland,  and  Eric  could 
not  slielter  him. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  Roland 
came  to  Eric's  room,  saying, — 

"  I  have  a  favor  to  ask." 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is.  I  will  grant  it  if  I 
can." 

"  You  can.    Let  us  forget  all  our  books 
to-dav,  and  come  with  me  to  the  castle." 
"Now?" 

"Yes;  I  have  a  plan.  I  want  to  see 
myself  how  it  is.   Let  me,  just  this  one  day." 

"  Let  you  do  what  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  work  like  the  masons'  ap- 
prentices up  there.  I  don't  want  to  eat  and 
drink  anything  except  what  they  do,  and  I 
want  to  carry  loads  up  and  down  like 
them." 

Enc  went  to  the  castle  with  Roland,  but 
on  the  way,  he  said, — 

"  Roland,  your  purpose  is  good,  and  your 
wish  pleases  me,  but  now  consider.  You 
are  not  undertaking  the  same  work  as  the 
men  yonder,  but  work  much  harder,  for 
yo«  are  not  accustomed  to  it ;  this  one  day 
would  bring  ten  times  as  much  fatigue  to 
you  as  to  them,  for  you  come  to  it  from  dif- 
ferent circumstances.  What  is  habit  to 
them  is  new  to  you,  and  doubly  difficult ; 
and,  moreover,  you  are  not  like  them,  for 
you  have  been  tenderly  and  carefully  nur- 
tured ;  your  bed  is  wholly  unlike  theirs ; 
you  have  tender  hands  ;  it  is  quite  a  differ- 
ent sort  of  strength  which  you  possess.  So 
you  would  not  learn  what  poor  people  feel, 
who  have  nothing  but  their  native  energy 
to  help  them  support  life." 

Roland  stood  still,  and  there  was  an  echo 
of  what  he  had  read  in  the  night  in  the 
question,  as  he  asked  with  a  troubled  voice, 
"What  shall  I  do  then,  to  make  my  own 
the  life  of  my  fellow-men  ?  " 

Eric  was  struck  by  bis  tone,  and  by  the 
form  of  his  question ;  he  could  not  tell  Ro- 
land how  happy  he  felt,  but  he  was  sure  at 
this  moment  that  a  soul,  which  bore  and 
cherished  such  desires  within  it,  could  never 
go  far  astray,  nor  lose  the  sense  of  the 
union  and  mutual  dependence  of  mankind. 
He  restrained  himself  from  expressing  his 
feeling,  however,  and  said, — 

"Dear  Roland"  —  he  had  never  before 
said  dear  Roland — "  the  world  is  a  great 
labor-association  ;  the  same  task  is  not  laid 
upon  all  of  us,  but  it  is  enjoined  on  every 
one  to  feel  himself  the  brother  of  his  fellow- 
men,  and  to  know  that  he  is  the  guardian 
of  himself  and  of  his  brothers.    What  we 


can  do  is,  to  prepare  ourselves  and  hold  our- 
selves ready  to  stand  by  our  brother's  side, 
and  reach  out  a  hand  to  him  as  often  as  the 
call  may  come.  The  work  which  will  one 
day  be  yours  is  different  from  that  of  the 
laborers  yonder,  who  carry  stone  and  mor- 
tar; your  work  is  greater,  and  more  pro- 
ductive of  happiness.  Come,  the  time  has 
arrived  for  you  to  see  into  many  things." 

CHAPTER  XV. 
LIFE,  AND  THE  EXTERNALS  OF  LIFE. 

In  the  Bible  it  is  related,  how  the  boy 
Isaac  went  with  the  Patriarch  Abraham  up 
the  mountain-side  where  the  sacrifice  was 
to  be  offered.  He  walked  on,  silent  and 
thoughtful,  till  at  last  he  asked,  — 

"  Where  is  the  offering?  " 

He  did  not  know  that  he  himself  was  to 
be  the  offering. 

So  Roland  followed  Eric,  silent  and 
thoughtful ;  he  had  offered  to  sacrifice  him- 
self, but  the  sacrifice  was  refused.  What 
next? 

Above,  on  a  spur  of  the  mountain,  over- 
looking the  surrounding  country,  they  sat 
down  ;  the  wild  thyme  spread  its  fragrance 
around  them.  Eric  took  the  hand  of  his 
pupil  and  began,  — 

"Well,  it  must  be, — it  ought  to  have 
come  later,  —  I  had  hoped  that  you  would 
not  have  come  to  this  question  for  a  long 
time,  and  then  in  some  other  way.  Do  you 
know  what  wealth  is  ?  " 

"Yes;  when  a  man  has  more  than  he 
needs." 

"  How  does  a  man  get  this  superfluity?" 

"  By  inheritance  and  by  earning." 

"  Can  a  brute  animal  be  rich  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  not." 

"  Certainly  not ;  every  animal  is,  and  has, 
only  what  he  has  been  and  has  had  from  his 
birth.  Now,  to  go  farther,  are  the  men 
of  these  times  better  than  those  of  old 
times  ?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Will  men  ever  be  better  than  now  ?  " 
"  I  hope  so." 

' '  And  how  will  they  become  better  ?  " 
"  By  civilization." 

"  Is  civilization  possible,  when  a  man  has 
to  work  hard  from  morning  till  night  for 
the  satisfaction  of  his  physical  needs  ?  " 

"Hardly." 

"  How  then  can  a  man  do  anything  for 
the  improvement  of  himself  or  his  fellow- 
men  ?  " 

"  He  needs  leisure  for  this." 

"And  does  not  that  leisure  come  only 
when  he  has  gained  through  his  labor  a 
surplus  of  wealth  ?  " 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


191 


"It  seems  so." 

"  Remember  this,  then :  wealth  is  an  accu- 
mulation of  power  which  is  not  obtained  by 
one's  own  labor.11 

"  Stop,  wait  a  minute,"  said  Roland.  He 
thought  for  a  moment  and  then  said,  —  "I 
have  it,  I  understand  it  now;  pray  go 
on.11 

"  What,  now,  should  a  man  do,  who  comes 
into  possession  of  so  much  power  that  he 
has  not  worked  for  ?  11  ' 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you.  By  means  of 
what  a  man  has  beyond  the  absolute  needs 
of  life,  he  attains  those  things  which  beautify 
and  elevate  life,  art  and  science.  Wealth, 
alone,  makes  possible  the  progress  of  the 
human  race  ;  that  a  man  can  become  rich 
involves  his  higher  destiny ;  he  lives  by 
others,  and  for  others  ;  without  accumulated 
surplus,  without  capital,  there  can  be  no 
higher  knowledge  of  life,  no  advancement 
of  it,  no  science  and  no  art.  Wealth  is  the 
possibility  and  the  obligation  to  gain  and 
increase,  for  one's  self  and  for  others,  the 
higher  benefits  of  existence ;  the  rich  man 
is  not  rich  for  himself ;  whatever  advan- 
tages he  possesses  in  the  way  of  knowledge, 
of  improved  machinery,  of  invention,  he  has 
and  uses  in  order  to  obtain  more  wealth 
than  his  necessities  demand ;  these  advan- 
tages he  possesses  only  by  means  of  others 
who  have  worked  before  him.  In  the  last 
analysis,  then,  the  rich  man  is  so  through 
his  own  means,  or  for  his  own  advantage ; 
he  is  only  an  administrator  of  the  accumu- 
lated results  of  labor,  and  he  must  so  ad- 
minister it  as  to  serve  the  highest  good  of 
mankind.  Look  around!  there  lie  the 
fields,  the  vineyards, — Avhose  are  they? 
There  stand  stones,  boundary-stones,  placed 
here  and  there  over  the  land,  as  points  of 
legal  division  between  mine  and  thine ;  no 
one  can  step  over  the  boundary  of  anofcher, 
or  encroach  on  another's  domain ;  they  are 
the  scattered  stones,  which,  in  the  eye  of 
the  imagination,  help  to  form  the  great  tem- 
ple of  law  which  protects  humanity.  Not 
so  evident,  but  not  less  firmly  fixed,  are  the 
boundary-stones  throughout  life ;  you  may 
not  encroach  on  what  belongs  to  another, 
on  the  results  of  his  labor  and  of  his  natu- 
ral powers.  See !  there  the  boatman  di- 
rects the  helm  ;  there  the  vine-dresser  digs 
the  ground  that  the  rain  may  reach  the  roots 
oi*  his  vines  ;  the  bird  flies  over  the  river ; 
men  row  and  dig,  animals  fly  and  crawl,  only 
to  gain  a  living.  Then  comes  temptation 
to  man  and  says,  —  1  Let  others  work  for 
you ;  live  upon  the  sweat  of  their  brow ; 
their  bones  are  yours,  consider  them  not; 
take  gold  for  their  labor,  gold  weeps  not, 


gold  hungers  not,  gold  complains  not,  — it 
only  glitters  ;  when  you  have  it,  you  can 
sing,  dance,  drive  over  men's  heads,  be  car- 
ried on  their  extended  arms ;  don't  hang 
back  !  the  world  is  a  field  of  plunder  where 
each  one  takes  what  he  can  seize.1  So 
speaks  the  tempter,  but  the  spirit  of  the 
true  life  says,  —  4  You  are  only  what  you 
are  in  yourself ;  whatever  worldly  posses- 
sions you  have  are  indeed  yours,  but  are 
not  you ;  to-morrow  they  may  no  longer 
be  yours ;  but  to-day  they  are,  and  you 
may  multiply  them  a  thousandfold,  so  that 
they  may  be  a  blessing  to  you,  and  yours, 
and  those  around  you.1 

"  If  you  have  not  genius — that  is  not  to  be 
acquired — then  get  character  and  education, 
which  can  be  acquired,  and  by  means  of 
them  gain  all  which  is  worth  the  gaining. 
Glory  and  greatness  are  good,  but  every 
one  cannot  attain  them ;  every  one  can  be 
contented  in  himself  and  helpful  to  others. 
Wealth  is  an  instrument  useful  for  many 
purposes,  but  only  when  one  knows  how  to 
use  it.  You  cannot  destroy  the  evils  that 
are  in  the  world  —  hunger,  sickness,  and 
crime ;  but  you  must  not  fling  away  the 
power  that  lies,  in  your  hand;  the  great 
duty  is  yours  to  beautify  and  elevate  the 
world.  Rejoice  in  your  possessions,  for 
they  enable  you  to  create  beauty  and  to 
give  joy.  First  of  all,  create  in  yourself 
beauty  and  joy,  the  power  of  self-denial, 
pleasure  in  accomplishment ;  and  be  ready 
to  stand  firm  in  yourself,  if  outward  sup- 
ports should  be  taken  away.  He  who  places 
the  centre  of  gravity  of  his  being  outside  of 
himself,  on  something  upon  which  he  leans, 
falls  when  that  support  is  removed.  Be 
firm  in  yourself,  keep  your  centre  of  grav- 
ity in  yourself,  learn  to  know  and  to  rightly 
value  yourself  and  the  world  around  you. 
The  present  is  a  time  of  preparation ;  you 
have  as  yet  no  duties  towards  others. 
Your  only  duty  is  to  yourself.  Bind  to- 
gether the  powers  within  you,  and  do  not 
dissipate  your  being ;  and  if  you  are  your 
own  master,  you  are  always  rich ;  but  if  you 
have  not  control  of  yourself,  you  are  always 
poor,  even  were  millions  in  your  posses- 
sion. If  you  possess  yourself,  you  are  lord 
of  your  riehes.11 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  long  time. 
It  is  impossible  to  say  in  what  direction 
any  given  thought  may  lead,  or  what  pre- 
vious thoughts  are  associated  in  its  develop- 
ment. 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  began  Roland, 
"how  it  seemed  when  America  was  first 
discovered." 

Eric  explained  to  the  boy  what  a  revolu- 
tion in  ideas  the  great  intellectual  discov- 


192 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


eries  of  the  sixteenth  century  had  made. 
There  stood  a  man  in  a  little  German  town, 
who  said,  and  proved,  that  the  earth  on 
which  we  live  is  no  fixed  point ;  it  turns  con- 
tinually on  its  axis  and  in  its  orbit  around 
the  sun.  The  whole  mode  of  thinking  of 
mankind  for  centuries  was  entirely  changed. 
Man  lives,  then,  on  this  ball  that  we  call 
earth  ;  he  harvests  and  builds,  he  travels  by 
land  and  sea,  upon  a  ball  which  is  constantly 
turning.  When  the  heart  of  mankind  first 
learned  that,  a  shudder  must  have  passed 
through  it ;  the  heavens  were  removed,  there 
was  no  more  sky,  the  whole  old  idea  of  a  king 
of  the  world,  sitting  enthroned  thereon,  was 
overthrown ;  what  was  Called  the  sky,  was 
only  the  firmly-bound,  countless  order  of 
constellations,  which  move  in  their  orbits, 
attracting  and  repelling  each  other. 

Then  came  another  man,  who  said,  "There 
is  no  man  on  earth,  who,  sitting  on  his  throne, 
holds  in  himself  the  eternal  spirit  which  gives 
him  the  right  to  teach  and  dictate  what  men 
shall  believe  and  hope."  Dissension  ap- 
peared in  the  Church,  and  tore  the  civilized 
world  asunder. 

"  And  still  another  man,  with  his  compan- 
ions, entered  a  ship,  sailed  towards  the  north, 
and  discovered  a  new  world.  In  the  house 
which  we  inhabit,  an  immeasurably  large 
room  was  suddenly  opened,  wherein  dwelt 
men  .who  knew  nothing  of  our  life,  while  we, 
on  the  other  hand,  were  ignorant  of  the  end- 
less variety  of  plants  and  animals,  of  bound- 
less forests  and  rushing  torrents,  that  existed 
there.  The  discoveries  of  Copernicus,  of 
Luther,  and  of  Columbus,  must  have  pro- 
duced a  revolution  in  the  minds  of  men  at  that 
period,  to  which  nothing  in  our  age  can  be 
compared.  If  we  should  be  told  now  that 
all  private  property  was  to  be  given  up,  so 
that  no  one  should  longer  possess  anything 
for  himself  alone,  the  revolution  in  our 
minds  would*  not  be  greater  than  it  was  in 
men's  minds  at  that  time." 

Roland  sat  gazing  in  wonder  at  the  man, 
who  placed  him  upon  such  a  height  that  he 
could  see  all  life  and  being  forming  itself 
anew,  and  unfolding  before  his  eyes.  Eric 
paused,  in  order  that  the  vivid  impression, 
which  it  was  evident  he  had  made  upon  his 
pupil,  should  not  be  disturbed  and  effaced 
by  further  speech.  The  question  arose  in 
his  mind,  whether  he  had  not  given  to  the 
boy  ideas  and  suggestions  which  he  Avas  not 
able  to  grasp  ;  but  he  comforted  himself  with 
the  example  of  the  Church.  She  gives  the 
young  soul  what  it  does  not  yet  desire,  what 
it  is  not  yet  able  to  understand ;  but  she 
gives  it  in  the  hope  that  it  will  bear  fruit  in 
riper  years.  May  we  not  —  must  we  not  do 
the  same  ? 


The  quiet  thought  of  the  two,  reaching 
out  towards  the  infinite,  was  disturbed  by 
the  architect,  who  came  to  tell  them  that  a 
Roman  tomb  had  been  discovered,  and  in 
it,  an  urn,  a  chair,  and  a  skeleton.  Eric 
went  with  Roland,  and  this  disinterment  of 
a  man  so  long  dead  gave  the  boy  a  shock. 
What  is  the  world  ?  What  is  life  ?  A  fu- 
ture age  finds  the  skeleton  of  a  man  which 
it  passes  by  with  indifference,  and  only 
asks, —  "Are  there,  withal,  the  remains  of 
the  industry  of  former  times  ?  11 

What  is  life  ? 

As  if  waking  from  sleep,  Roland  heard 
Eric  express  his  joy  at  the  discovery,  which 
would  give  so  much  pleasure  to  Count  Clod- 
wig.  And  now  all  the  boy's  thoughts  were 
turned  into  a  new  channel,  and  his  perplex- 
ing doubts  forgotten.  Eric  rejoiced  in  the 
versatile  mind  of  youth,  which  at  one  mo- 
ment is  entirely  absorbed  in  some  overpow- 
ering thought,  and  the  next  is  engrossed 
by  another  which  entirely  displaces  the  first. 
This  is  the  blessing  and  joy  of  youth.  Ro- 
land was  full  of  plans  for  the  foundation  of 
a  museum,  and  Eric  encouraged  him  in  them, 
and  took  pains  to  show  that  here  was  an 
example  of  what  possessions  really  mean ; 
these  historical  treasures  did  not  belong  to 
him  who  called  them  his,  but  to  the  world, 
which  from  them  could  learn  something  of 
former  ages  ;  no  one  could  have  them  for 
himself  alone.  This  is  the  true  idea  of  pos- 
session, freed  from  all  material  weight.  Thus 
ought  we  to  look  upon  all  the  possessions 
of  the  world. 

This  incident  seemed  to  lead  the  boy's 
mind  to  composure.  But  as  they  were  going 
home,  he  asked, —  "Now  tell  me,  Eric,  what 
would  you  do  if  all  this  wealth  were  yours  ? 
Can  you  tell,  Eric,  now?"  "  Not  exactly. 
I  think  I  should  waste  much  of  it  in  experi- 
ments, in  trying  to  alleviate  the  sufferings 
of  humanity.  I  have  often  speculated  about 
it,  and  the  first  greeting  that  came  to  me 
was,  — '  What  is  a  million  ?  What  are  mil- 
lions ?  What  do  they  mean  ?  '  "  As  Eric 
was  silent,  Roland  asked,  "  Well,  have  you 
found  what  they  mean  ?  "  "I  have  first  made 
this  clear  to  myself.  In  order  to  know  how 
great  value  any  sum  possesses  in  itself,  I 
have  first  asked,  '  How  much  bread  could 
be  bought  for  a  million  ?  '  And  by  means  of 
this  somewhat  childish  question,  I  came,  as 
I  believe,  upon  the  right  road." 

"Which  is?" 

"  I  tried  to  find  how  many  families  a  mil- 
lion would  support.  That,  I  think,  is  the 
road,  but  of  course  I  have  not  yet  reached 
the  end.  I  repeat,  however,  that  first  of  all 
we  must  make  sure  that  we  are  strong 
enough  to  do  the  right,  at  all  times,  under 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


193 


all  circumstances.  What  time  or  circum- 
stances may  demand  of  us,  no  one  can  deter- 
mine beforehand." 

"Stay  by  me  always,  and  help  me," 
begged  Roland.  Eric  took  the  boy's  hand 
few!  pressed  it,  and  they  went  on  quietly 
towards  the  house. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  GOOD  NEIGHBOR. 

There  is  many  a  chance  which  seems  like 
a  summons.  Eric  and  Roland  had  spoken 
of  Clodwig  on  the  mountain,  and  when  they 
reached  home,  they  found  a  message  from 
him,  saying  that  he  and  the  Countess  had  re- 
turned from  the  baths,  and  would  visit  them 
to-morrow. 

Clodwig  was  brown  from  his  summer-jour- 
ney, and  Bella  looked  younger  than  before, 
and  seemed,  as  she  swept  with  her  long  train 
through  the  house  and  park,  somewhat  like 
a  peacock.  As  soon  as  they  arrived,  Roland 
gave  an  account  of  the  curiosities  found  on 
the  mountain,  and  his  face  fairly  shone  with 
delight  when  Clodwig  asked  him  to  consider 
them  the  starting-point  of  a  museum  for 
himself;  for  in  making  a  collection  of  this 
kind,  he  would  experience  a  pleasure  to 
which  scarcely  anything  else  could  be  com- 
pared. Roland  nodded  to  Eric,  and  Clodwig 
told  them  he  had  made  many  valuable  ac- 
quisitions in  his  journey,  which  would  soon 
be  sent  to  him.  He  had  met  daily  at  the 
!Baths  a  celebrated  antiquarian,  who  had  once 
been  a  teacher  of  Eric. 

Eric  apologized  to  Clodwig  for  having 
slighted  his  friendly  advance,  in  not  visiting 
him  before  he  set  out  on  his  journey,  and 
now  another  pleasant  trait  was  seen  in  Clod- 
wig,—  that  he  had  not  one  trace  of  sensitive- 
ness. Kindness  of  heart  and  self-respect 
combined  to  cause  this  trait ;  he  excused 
every  neglect  of  himself,  and,  as  a  man  of 
unquestioned  position  never  thought  of  in- 
jury or  slight. 

"You  are  exempt  from  all  apologies  with 
me,11  he  said,  taking  Eric's  hands  and  hold- 
ing them  as  though  he  were  the  young  man's 
father.  "  You  have  cured  me  of  selfishness. 
I  had  not  believed  that  there  was  so  much  of 
it  left  in  me,  my  dear  young  friend.  Yes,  you 
shall  mould  your  own  life,  and  I  will  rejoice 
that  I  have  you  for  a  neighbor.  A  good 
neighborhood,  with  the  ancient  Romans,  was 
not  merely  a  political  arrangement." 

They  touched  glasses  and  drank  to  the 
good  neighborhood,  and  as  the  old  Count 
drank,  his  eyes  beamed  upon  Eric. 

It  was  an  animated  account  that  Clodwig 
and  his  wife  alternately,  interrupting  each 
other,  gave  of  their  having  turned  aside  from 


their  direct  course,  and  spent  a  night  in  the 
University-town  for  the  purpose  of  visiting 
Eric's  mother  and  remaining  an  entire  day 
with  her.  At  last  Clodwig  left  the  field  to 
his  wife,  who  told  with  great  feeling  and 
earnestness  of  the  life  of  the  noble  lady. 
She  described  the  piano-forte  in  its  old  place, 
and  the  beautiful,  dignified  figure  sitting  at 
work  before  her  window  filled  with  flowers. 
On  the  wall  before  her  hung  the  portraits 
of  her  dead  husband  and  of  her  son,  and 
in  a  frame  by  itself  was  a  lock  of  her  mother's 
hair,  hanging  between  the  crayon  portraits 
of  her  parents.  Still  she  was  not  at  all 
melancholy,  but  cheerful  and  interested  in 
every  subject,  taking  part  in  every  discus- 
sion. 

Then  Bella  described  the  lovely  valley, 
and  their  visit  to  the  renowned  mountain- 
chapel  ;  and  Eric  could  almost  hear  his  moth- 
er's voice,  and  see  her  gentle  face,  as  she  sat 
by  the  beautiful  lady,  listening  to  Clodwig, 
and  nodding  assent  and  pleasure.  It  was 
for  Eric  an  hour  of  deep  and  quiet  happiness, 
laden  with  the  memories  of  his  home. 

And  not  less  beaming  were  Roland's  eyes, 
as  he  asked  : — 

"And  didn't  she  speak  of  me  ?  " 

"Almost  more  than  of  her  own  son," 
Bella  answered.  And  then  she  turned 
again  to  Eric,  and  could  not  say  enough  of 
the  impression  which  had  been  made  upon 
her  by  the  sight  of  a  woman  like  his  mother, 
who,  living  in  another  world,  yet  retained 
such  an  interest  in  this  ;  who,  having  given 
up  so  much,  yet  possessed  everything  in 
herself. 

Clodwig  smiled,  for  Bella  was  repeating 
the  very  words  he  had  used ;  but  she  con- 
tinued,—  "  I  think  I  never  understood  you, 
Captain,  until  I  had  the  happiness  of  meet- 
ing your  noble  mother.  We  agreed  to 
write  to  each  other,  from  time  to  time, 
although  she  absolved  me  on  the  spot  from 
any  feeling  of  obligation  to  do  so." 

More  and  more  happy,  and  at  home,  did 
Eric  feel  with  Clodwig  and  Bella,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  the  spirit  of  his  mother 
was  lingering  near  them  with  a  benediction. 

"But  we  must  not  forget  your  aunt!" 
Clodwig  exclaimed,  and  then  went  on  to 
say  that  he  had  renewed  an  old  acquaint- 
ance with  her;  he  remembered  well  the 
dazzling  beauty  of  Fraiilein  Dournay,  and 
what  an  excitement  was  produced  when  she, 
a  citizen's  daughter,  was  presented  at  court, 
and  invited  everywhere.  The  story  went 
that  she  and  Prince  Hermann,  who  died  in 
his  youth,  had  loved  each  other  wi*  >t  the 
purest  love,  and,  for  his  sake,  she  had  re- 
fused all  offers  of  marriage ;  but  of  thU 
I  Clodwig  did  not  speak. 


194 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


As  they  were  walking  in  the  garden  after 
dinner,  Bella  said  to  Eric:  —  "You  have 
had  a  very  beautiful,  happy  youth ;  but  one 
thing  Avas  wanting." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  A  sister.''1 

' '  I  would  be  glad  to  think  that  she  had 
come  to  1110,"  Eric  replied,  in  a  low  voice. 

Bella  looked  down,  for  a  minute,  and* 
then  called  Roland  to  her.  They  went  on 
to  the  castle,  and  Clodwig  begged  the  Arch- 
itect, for  the  sake  of  his  young  friend,  Ro- 
land, to  be  very-  careful  whenever  traces 
of  further  remains  were  discovered. 

The  company  sat  down  on  a  projection  of 
the  castle- wall,  where  the  Major  had  made 
a  comfortable  seat.  Clodwig  and  Roland 
were  together,  and  Bella  and  Eric  were  sit- 
ting at  a  little  distance  from  them.  She 
was  inclined  to  be  romantic.  She  had 
brought  from  Paris  all  the  new  fashions, 
but  now  she  said  to  Eric,  How  foolishly  we 
burden  ourselves  with  superfluities  !  Then, 
without  any  apparent  cause,  she  remarked, 
that  everybody  thought  she  was  fond  of  dis- 
play and  fashion ;  but  she  would  like  best 
to  live  in  a  little  fisherman's  hut,  on  the 
Rhine,  in  one  quiet  room,  with  a  bright 
fire. 

"And  who  would  make  this  fire?"  Eric 
inquired. 

Bella  started  at  this  question.  "We 
must  not  be  romantic,"  said  she.  Then 
there  was  a  long  pause. 

At  last  Eric  began.  "  You  have  learned 
to  know  my  mother ;  if  you  had  known  my 
father,  you  would  have  found  great  pleasure 
in  him  too." 

"I  did  know  him,  but  I  thank  you;  I 
understand  that  you  would  have  me  share 
all  that  is  yours."  Thare  was  a  heartfelt 
expression  in  her  voice,  and  her  eyes 
beamed,  and  she  fixed  them  upon  Eric  with 
such  a  look,  that  he  turned  his  own  away. 
Biting  her  lip,  she  continued:  "You  have 
seen,  —  yes,  you  have  certainly  noticed  how 
I  look  at  you.  Now  I  must  fulfil  one  of 
,  Clodwig's  wishes,  because  I  think  that  per- 
haps I  may  succeed.  He  wants  me  to  take 
your  likeness,  and  I  will  try ;  but  I  must 
have  your  young  friend  with  you.  Roland, 
come  here,"  she  called,  as  she  saw  the  boy 
approaching  ;  and  then  she  explained,  with 
blushes  overspreading  her  face,  that  she 
had  wished  to  surprise  Clodwig  with  the 
portrait  on  his  birthday,  but  that  that  was 
impossible  now,  and  she  must  do  it  openly. 

"  Please,  Roland,  sit  down  on  the  Cap- 
tain's knee.  So, —  yes,  just  so,  — put  your 
right  hand  on  his  shoulder,  but  farther  for- 
ward. Yes ;  now  put  your  head  a  little 
more  to  the  left.   Pray  say  something,  Cap- 


tain. You  must  be  telling  Roland  some 
thing.1' 

"  I've  nothing  to  say,"  replied  Eric,  smil- 
ing. 

"  That  will  do  ;  I  see  the  motion  of  your 
lips  ;  it  will  be  difficult,  but  I  hope  to  catch 
it.    When  will  you  sit  to  me  ?  11 

Clodwig  was  delighted,  and  said  he  never 
liked  surprises ;  a  well-prepared  and  long- 
expected  pleasure  was  much  more  desirable. 
He  urged  Eric  and  Roland  to  be  his  guests 
at  Wolfsgarten,  until  the  family  should  come 
back.  But  Eric  declined  with  equal  friend- 
liness and  firmness  ;  he  did  not  like  to  dis- 
arrange the  daily  routine  which  he  had  laid 
out  for  Roland ;  and  Clodwig  approved  of 
his  resolution,  and  promised  to  come  again 
soon  to  the  villa  with  Bella,  and  have  the 
portrait  taken  there.  Bella  wished  a  pho- 
tograph of  Eric  and  Roland  in  the  positions 
she  had  chosen  for  them,  but  Clodwig  said 
that  a  portrait  taken  with  the  help  of  a  pho- 
tograph was  always  stiff  and  unnatural ; 
he  condemned  photographs  of  human  fig- 
ures, of  which  they  could  give  only  the  mere 
form,  and  often  wholly  out  of  drawing.  Ro- 
land had  a  word  to  say  also,  in  regard  to 
the  picture.  Why  not  have  Griffin  in  it? 
Clodwig  agreed,  saying  the  dog  would  make 
a  very  good  foreground. 

Bella  was  out  of  humor.  She  had  enjoyed 
companionship  and  gaiety  so  long,  that  she 
was  reluctant  to  go  back  to  her  lonely  life 
among  the  antiquities ;  perhaps  there  were 
further  unacknowledged  reasons  for  her  re- 
grets.. The  visit  to  Eric  and  Roland  was  a 
welcome  reprieve  to  her ;  but  the  proud 
Captain  was  so  reserved,  and  had  always 
some  great  principle  so  ready  to  apply  to 
even  the  smallest  action,  and  her  husband 

—  his  worst  weakness  was  beginning  to 
show  itself,  the  doting  fondness  of  old  age 

—  whenever  the  Captain  spoke;  Clodwig 
was  wholly  absorbed  in  the  young  man. 

Her  features  seemed  suddenly  to  become 
thin  and  faded,  and  to  lose  all  roundness. 
She  noticed  this,  and  recovered  her  self- 
control.  She  was  especially  friendly,  and 
when  Eric  took  leave  of  her  and  kissed  her 
hand,  he  thought  he  felt  a  returning  press- 
ure on  his  lips,  but  perhaps  it  was  a  mis- 
take, or  arose  from  some  awkwardness  on 
his  part.  While  he  was  thinking  about  it, 
Roland  said, — 

"I  don't  kno\#whv,  but  I  did  not  feel 
comfortable  while  the  Countess  was  looking 
at  me,  did  you  ?  and  she  looked  at  you  so 
strangely." 

"It  was  the  critical  look  of  an  artist," 
answered  Eric ;  but  his  own  words  choked 
him.  Who  knew  whether  this  reply  was 
the  exact  truth  ? 


THE   COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


195 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
TO  FORM  A  MAN. 

The  Major  sent  no  notice  of  his  ap- 
proaching visit;  he  came  himself.  He 
looked  very  fresh  with  his  reddish-brown 
face,  and  his  snow-white,  short-cut  hair,  and 
he  said  that  as  often  as  he  had  bathed  in 
the  warm  spring,  he  felt  as  if  he  could  re- 
member the  very  first  bath  after  he  was 
born.  He  seemed  to  himself,  every  time,, 
literally  like  a  new-born  child,  with  an  un- 
seen nurse,  who  bent  smiling  t>ver  him  and 
dipped  him  gently  in  the  spring.  He  smiled 
at  everything,  at  the  trees,  the  roofs,  the 
houses,  and  now  at  the  faces  of  his  friends. 

He  was  very  glad  that  Eric  had  taken  the 
boy  out  of  the  ranks  and  was  exercising  him 
alone;  it  was  hard,  to  be  sure;  but  more 
progress  could  be  made  in  one  day,  than  in 
weeks  by  the  other  method. 

He  begged  Eric  to  excuse  himself  in  a 
few  words  to  Fraiilein  Milch  for  not  visiting 
her  when  she  was  so  lonely,  and  he  urged 
Eric  to  come  soon,  for  the  Grand  Master 
was  there. 

The  Major,  as  has  been  said,  lived  in  a 
wing  of  the  country-house,  beautifully  situ- 
ated on  the  mountain-side,  of  which  he  had 
the  care.  With  the  greatest  solicitude  the 
Major  preserved  his  own  independence  in 
life,  but  he  felt  a  deep  obligation  toward 
the  Grand  Master,  whose  universal  friend- 
liness and  agreeable  conversation  he  was 
never  wearp  of  extolling.  He  always 
wanted  to  share  with  him  every  pleasjure 
and  advantage,  and  now  what  had  he  better 
than  Eric,  whom  he  praised  so  continually 
that  his  stock  of  eulogistic  expressions  be- 
came completely  exhausted,  and*  he  found 
more  than  usual  difficulty  in  saying  what  he 
wished. 

On  his  first  leisure  evening  Eric  visited 
the  Major.  He  easily  made  peace  with  the 
Fräulein ;  and  the  Major  laughed  till  he 
choked  and  had  to  be  brought  to  with  a 
slap  on  the  back,  because  he  had  made  a 
joke,  a 'most  unusual  thing  with  him,  about 
Eric's  confinement  for  six  weeks. 

Fraulein  Milch  told  of  Eric's  glory  at  the 
singing  festival,  and  the  Major  said,  — 

"  That's  good.  At  our  feasts,  singers 
are  very  important.  But  can  you  sing, 
'  These  holy  halls  1  ?  " 

Eric  regretted  that  the  air  was  too  low 
for  his  voice. 

"Then  sing  something  else;  sing  for 
Fraulein  Milch." 

Eric  had  difficulty  in  declining  this  friend- 
ly request,  and  Fräulein  Milch  thanked  him, 
and  helped  him  carry  out  his  wish  to  defer 
the  performance  to  some  appointed  even- 


ing. The  so-called  Grand  Master  was  as 
disagreeable  in  his  behavior,  as  Fräulein 
Milch  was  charming.  There  was  some- 
thing unpleasantly  patronizing  in  his  man- 
ner ;  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  so  accustomed 
to  flattery,  that  only  a  simple  unpretending 
nature,  like  the  Major's,  could  be  at  ease 
with  him.  The  Major  took  great  pains  to 
bring  his  true  friends  together,  but  he  did 
not  succeed.  The  Grand  Master  behaved 
arrogantly  towards  Eric  throughout.  He 
addressed  him  only  as  "Young  man,"  and 
gave  him  instruction  and  advice,  as  if  Eric 
were  in  his  employ.  It  required  all  Eric's 
self-possession,  to  show  the  man,  good- 
temperedly,  the  impropriety  of  his  treat- 
ment for  the  Grand  Master  was  so  incon- 
siderate as  to  speak,  even  in  Roland's  pres- 
ence, of  the  want  of  experience  of  the 
"  young  man,"  who  had,  of  course,  come  to 
him  only  to  listen  to  his  oracular  sayings  ; 
and  his  whole  manner  of  speaking  had 
something  oracular  about  it,  as  he  gesticu- 
lated with  outstretched  hands,  as  if  sowing 
seed.  Eric  kept  his  temper  enough  to  treat 
this  insolent  creature  as  a  singular,  natural 
phenomenon.  He  patiently  allowed  him- 
self to  be  patronized,  and  when  Eric  had 
gone,  the  Head  Master  said  to  the  Major, 
—  "  That  young  man  has  ideas." 

It  is  true,  Eric  had  not  expressed  any 
ideas,  but  he  had  listened  well,  and  so  was 
awarded  praise  for  them,  which  was  a  great 
deal  from  the  Grand  Master,  who  considered 
that  nobody  but  himself  had  properly  any 
ideas  ;  and  the  whole  world  ought  to  come 
to  him  to  be  taught.  When  Eric  returned 
to  the  Major's,  he  found  a  messenger,  who 
had  come  to  say  that  Clodwig,  Bella,  and 
Franken  would  come  there  the  next  day. 
Roland  had  gone  into  the  court  with  Fräu- 
lein Milch  to  admire  the  young  ducks. 

The  Major  now  asked  on  what  terms  Eric 
stood  with  Pranken.  Eric  could  only  an- 
swer that  Pranken  had  been  very  friendly, 
and  considerate,  in  his  treatment  of  him. 

The  Major,  who  had  risen  through  every 
grade  of  the  militia  from  drummer-boy  up, 
lived  in  a  constant  state  of  resentment 
against  the  haughtiness  of  his  noble-born 
comrades  ;  he  admonished  Eric,  however,  to 
conduct  himself  gratefully  towards  Pranken, 
who  was  really  a  very  well-mannered  fel- 
low, in  spite  of  his  noble  bkth ;  an  obstacle 
that  it  was  very  hard  for  the  Major  to  get 
over.  He  thought  that  Pranken  deserved 
Eric's  gratitude  for  having  introduced  him 
into  his  present  position,  and  reminded  Eric 
that  he  had  also  been  the  means  of  his  gain- 
ing so  valuable  a  friend  as  Clodwig. 

As  Eric  and  Roland  were  going  towards 
home,  Eric  said,  — 


196 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


11  Now,  Roland,  we  will  show  that  we  do 
not  allow  ourselves  to  be  disturbed ;  come 
what  will,  we  will  have  our  studies  uninter- 
rupted ;  we  won't  see  visitors  except  in  play- 
hours.  You  see,  Roland,  this  is  one  great 
difficulty  in  life.  From  complaisance  to- 
wards the  world,  and  from  an  unwillingness 
to  appear  disobliging  and  ungracious  to  our 
friends,  we  often  allow  our  own  privacy  to 
be  invaded.  Against  this  we  must  stand 
firmly :  each  must  just  be  something  for 
himself,  and  then  come  out  into  the  world. 
He  who  cannot  exist  for  himself  may  pos- 
sess the  world,  but  not  himself." 

In  the  consciousness  of  fulfilling  his  duty, 
Eric  became  again  strong  and  self-contained, 
and  scattered  every  disturbing  influence  far 
away. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
UNDER-C  U  KKENT  S . 

The  visit  took  place.  Pranken  rode 
behind  the  carriage  in  which  Ciodwig  and 
Bella  were  seated  ;  on  the  back  seat  of  the, 
carriage  stood  a  frame-work  covered  with 
paper,  and  a  handsome  box  ornamented 
with  inlaid  work,  which  held  the  crayons. 

Eric  and  Roland  received  the  guests,  and 
Eric  begged  them  to  make  themselves  at 
home ;  he  had  had  everything  arranged  by 
the  servants ;  he  would  himself  be  at  their 
service  in  an  hour,  when  lessons  were  over. 

The  visitors  looked  at  each  other  in  as- 
tonishment. 

Pranken  looked  strangely  changed;  a 
deeper  seriousness  was  in  his  face ;  now  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  burst  into  a 
mocking  laugh. 

Bella  thought  Eric's  conduct  extremely 
formal  and  pcfdantic ;  Ciodwig  declared  it 
showed  a  beautiful  trait  of  character ;  but 
Pranken  saw  only  idle  display  in  this  assump- 
tion of  duty  ;  the  young  man  —  he  said  this 
quite  in  the  tone  of  the  Grand  Master  —  the 
young  man  wished  to  make  a  great  impres- 
sion with  his  faithfulness  to  duty. 

Meantime  they  made  themselves  comfort- 
able, and  it  was  not  to  be  denied  that  Eric 
had  shown  great  thought  for  the  pleasure  of 
his  guests,  in  his  floral  decorations,  and 
other  arrangements. 

The  hour  was  soon  over,  and  Eric  re- 
turned to  his  guests  in  that  fresh  and  cheer- 
ful mood,  which  only  the  conquest  over 
one's  self  and  the  consciousness  of  duty  ful- 
filled can  ever  give. 

He  had  selected  a  good  room,  looking 
towards  the  North,  and  after  a  lunch  the 
drawing  began. 

Ciodwig  remained  with  his  wife  ;  Roland, 
who  was  to  be  drawn  later,  went  with 


Pranken  to  the  stables.  Pranken  conducted 
himself  in  the  house  as  Sonnenkamp's  natu- 
ral representative,  or  as  a  son  of  the  family ; 
he  had  the  horses  brought  out,  he  examined 
the  gardenwork,  and  praised  the  servants. 

"  I  never  saw  you  looking  so  serious  and 
anxious,"  said  Ciodwig  to  Eric.  And,  in- 
deed, Eric's  expression  was  full  of  uneasi- 
ness, for  he  suspected  that  Pranken  was 
now  talking  about  him  to  Roland. 
.  What  can  all  education,  all  firm  guidance 
effect,  when  one  is  not  sure  for  a  moment 
that  some  foreign  influence  is  not  working 
against  it  ?  We  must  comfort  ourselves  by 
thinking  that  no  one  man  can  form  another, 
but  the  whole  world  forms  each  man.  Eric, 
meanwhile,  could  not  but  dread  what  Pran- 
ken might  be  saying  to  his  pupil. 

First,  Pranken  asked  whether  Roland  had 
read  the  daily  portion  in  the  book  that 
Manna  sent  him. 

Roland  said,  no,  directly,  and  then  came  a 
confused  jumble  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  of 
Crassus,  of  Hiawatha,  of  the  observations 
of  storms  by  the  telegraphist,  and  of  Ban- 
croft's History  of  the  United  States. 

Pranken  nodded;  he  asked  if  Roland 
wrote  often  to  Manna,  and  Roland  said 
yes. 

Pranken  now  told  him  that  he  had  trained 
a  snow-white  Hungarian  horse  for  Manna, 
and  added :  — 

"  You  can  tell  her  so,  when  you  write,  01 
not,  as  you  please." 

He  knew,  of  course,  that  Rofcmd  was  sure 
not  to  forget  any  information  which  he  was 
allowed  to  impart,  especially  if  it  was  about 
a  snow-white  horse  with  red  trappings. 
Pranken  promised  that  Roland  should  him- 
self ride  the  animal  some  day. 

"  Has  it  a  name  ?  "  asked  Roland. 

Pranken  smiled ;  he  perceived  that  his 
communication  had  interested  Roland  ex- 
tremely, and  he  answered,  — 

"  Yes,  its  name  is  Armida." 

Just  then  Roland  was  called  in,  as  he 
was  needed  for  the  sketch.  When  the  out- 
line was  completed,  the  drawing  was  laid 
aside  for  awhile. 

In  a  half-confidential,  half-commanding 
tone,  Pranken  asked  Eric  to  go  out  with 
him  alone,  and  in  a  friendly,  even  unusu- 
ally friendly  manner,  he  entered  into  a  dis- 
course upon  Roland's  education.  And  now, 
for  the  first  time,  Eric  heard  Pranken  speak 
seriously  of  his  strict  religious  convictions. 

He  was  amazed.  Was  this  all  put  on,  in 
order  to  win  more  securely  the  rich  heiress 
edcuated  in  the  Convent  ? 

But  it  certainly  was  not  necessary  for 
Pranken,  when  no  one  could  see  and  re- 
mark upon  it,  in  travelling,  antl  at  the  Baths, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


197 


to  unite  himself  so  closely  with  ecclesiastics. 
Was  it  not  rather  probable  that  a  conversion 
had  really  taken  place  in  this  worldly  man, 
and  that  upon  just  such  a  nature  the  sta- 
bility and  unchangeableness  of  the  Church 
would  take  the  surest  hold  ? 

"  I  consider  it  my  duty,  and  you  will 
give  me  the  credit  of  considering  it  a  duty," 
said  Pranken 'suddenly,  laying  his  hand  on 
his  heart,  "to  give  you  some  confidential 
information." 

"  If  I  can  do  anything,  I  shall  feel  myself 
honored  by  your  confidence ;  but  if  I  can 
be  of  no  use,  I  would  rather  avoid  an  unne- 
cessary share  in  a  secret." 

Pranken  was  astonished  at  this  reluctance, 
and  was  inclined  to  be  displeased,  but  he 
restrained  himself,  and  continued,  in  a 
higher  tone :  — 

"You  know  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp  —  " 

"  Excuse  me  for  interrupting  you.  Does 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  know  that  you  are  mak- 
ing this  confidential  communication  to  me?" 

"  Good  Heavens  ! "  Pranken  broke  out,  — 
"  but  no,  I  am  wrong.  I  respect  this  regard 
to  your  position." 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes ;  it 
occurred  to  him  that,  instead  of  what  he  had 
meant  to  say,  he  might  warn  Eric  not  to 
have  too  much  to  do  with  Bella.  But 
would  not  this  be  an  insinuation  against  his 
sister?  He  decided  to  go  back  to  his  first 
plan,  and  said  shortly,  — 

"  I  think  I  may  tell  you  that  I  am  almost 
a  son  of  this  house.  Fraulein  Sonnenkamp 
is  as  good  as  engaged  to  me.11 

"  If  Fräulein  Sonnenkamp  is  like  her 
brother,  I  can  congratulate  you  heartily.  I 
thank  you  for  your  unexpected,  and  as  yet 
undeserved,  confidence  ;  may  I  ask  why  you 
have  honored  me  with  it  ?  " 

Pranken  became  more  inwardly  enraged, 
but  outwardly  still  more  flattering ;  he  ner- 
vously worked  his  right  hand,  as  if  he  were 
using  a  riding- whip,  but  he  smiled  very 
condescendingly  and  said,  — 

"  I  have  not  been  mistaken  in  you."  After 
a  pause  he  continued:  —  "I  acknowledge 
fullv  your  considerateness." 

He  did  not  answer  directly  the  question 
as  to  the  cause  of  his  confidence,  and  there 
was  hardly  time,  for  Roland  now  called 
Eric  to  the  sitting. 

"  One  would  think  ten  years  had  passed 
since  I  left  o(f  drawing,"  said  Bella,  "  you 
look  so  much  older  now." 

Eric  could  not  speak  out  his  thoughts. 
The  way  in  which  Pranken  had  treated  him, 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  had  borne  him- 
self, disturbed  him  very  much.  He  was  sit- 
ting now  quite  still,  but  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  he  were  being  rent  asunder.    He  felt 


that  there  was  something  fundamentally 
false  in  his  relations  with  Pranken.  They 
were  both  aware  of  the  contrast  and  dis- 
cord which  existed  between  them ;  they 
ought  either  to  have  been  open  enemies,  or 
to  have  passed  each  other  with  indifference  ; 
and  yet  some  spell  seemed  to  draw  them 
together,  and  to  persuade  them  into  appar- 
ent friendliness. 

All  misery  springs  from  untruthfulness. 
The  world  would  be  quite  a  different  place, 
and  much  misery  would  be  saved,  could 
we  be  true  at  all  times,  and  not  allow  our- 
selves to  be  led  into  lasting  relations  and 
obligations,  while  we  silence  the  inward 
remonstrance  by  saying,  —  It  will  all  turn 
out  well ;  the  matter  need  not  be  taken  so 
seriously.  But  in  thousands  of  cases  the 
lie  is  concealed,  veiled,  beautified,  as  in  that 
Bible-story,  where  the  serpent  overcomes 
all  opposition,  all  argument,  by  the  words, 
—  "  Only  eat,  and  you  will  not  die,  but 
only  become  wise." 

The  great  punishment  of  a  relation  found- 
ed on  false  grounds  is,  that  it  constantly 
demands  from  us  farther  untruthfulness ; 
either  openly  recognized  as  such,  or  con- 
cealed by  our  self-deception,  and  at  last 
the  lie  takes  on  the  appearance  of  virtue, 
changes  all  the  foundation  of  our  character, 
silences  the  protests  which  our  better  nature 
makes,  and  says,  You  must  not  desert 
your  friend ;  you  have  been  friends  so  long, 
you  have  received  so  much  from  him,  and 
have  done  so  much  for  him ;  it  would  break 
up  your  whole  life ;  you  would  take  a  large 
portion  from  it,  if  you  gave  him  up.  'No  ! 
you  must  now  hold  firmly  together.  And 
so  the  lie  grows  and  poisons  life.  All  sor- 
row and  all  unhappiness,  all  misunder- 
standing and  deceit,  arise  from  the  fault  that 
man  will  not  be  faithful  to  himself.  The 
devil  of  lies  goes  about,  seeking  whom  he 
may  devour. 

It  is  true  there  is  no  devil  that  you  can 
see  so  as  to  describe  him  in  the  military 
style,  but  close  by  every  divine  idea  which 
in  its  ultimate  foundation  is  nothing  but 
Truth,  dwells  the  Lie,  and  is  always  capa- 
ble of  assuming  the  form  and  language  of 
its  neighbor. 

All  these  thoughts  were  tossing  and  raging 
in  Eric's  soul  as  he  sat  for  his  portrait. 
Could  any  one  at  that  moment  have  painted 
the  picture  of  his  soul,  it  would  have  been 
an  unparalleled  distortion. 

At  last,  Bella  declared  she  could  not  draw 
him  as  he  then  looked,  and  the  sitting  was 
postponed. 

They  all  went  to  dinner,  which  passed 
cheerfully,  for  the  Doctor  joined  them.  In 
the  evening,  they  went  out  rowing  on  the 


198 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Rhine,  and  Roland  told  how  beautifully 
Eric  could  sing ;  but  Eric  could  not  be  per- 
suaded to  give  them  a  single  song.  He 
was  bantered  on  having  displayed  his  talent 
at  the  musical  festival,  by  Pranken  espe- 
cially, who  spoke  in  a  friendly  tone,  but 
with  a  most  cutting  manner. 

In  the  evening,  when  the  fire-flies  were 
darting  here  and  there  in  the  dusky  park, 
Eric  walked  with  Bella,  while  Clodwig  sat 
in  the  balconied  room,  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  an'  album  filled  with  new  photo- 
graphic views  of  Rome,  and,  at  many  a 
page,  looking  far  away  into  the  past. 

Roland  walked  with  Pranken,  and  they 
talked  of  Manna.  Pranken  knew  well  how 
to  suggest  what  he  should  write  of  him.  In 
walking,  they  passed  and  repassed  Eric  and 
Bella,  and  Pranken  looked  surprised  at  see- 
ing his  sister  leaning  on  the  young  man's 
arm.  Like  glancing  fire-flies,  the  brilliant 
flashes  of  wit  lighted  up  their  conversation, 
but  left  longer  trains  of  light  behind  them. 
Bella  and  Eric  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  often, 
as  the  others  passed  near  them,  they  stopped 
speaking.  Bella  talked  again  about  her 
good  husband,  —  she  always  called  him  her 
"  good  husband,"  —  and  said  how  thought- 
fully Eric  understood  him,  not  only,  if  she 
might  say  so,  with  his  mind,  but  with  his 
heart. 

"You  have  made  a  new  phrase,"  said 
Eric,  and  Bella  repeated  her  newly-coined 
expression,  with  as  much  pleasure  as  if  she 
had  found  a  new  style  of  head-dress  which 
suited  her  face  alone. 

Eric  was  pedantic  enough  to  go  back  to 
the  original  subject  of  discussion,  and  said 
warmly,  how  delightful  it  was  to  fiiid 
Beauty  and  Peacefulness,  not  only  in  one's 
own  ideal,  but  in  real  life ;  to  reach  out 
one's  hand  to  them  and  look  into  their  calm, 
clear  eyes. 


"You  are  a  good  man,  and  I  believe 
an  honest  one,"  said  Bella,  and  pulling  off 
her  glove  she  lightly  tapped  with  it  on 
Eric's  hand. 

"  It  is  no  merit  to  be  honest,"  said  Eric. 
"  I  could  almost  wish  I  could  be  untruthful ; 
no,  — not  untruthful,  but  a  little  more  retic- 
ent sometimes." 

It  was  charming  and  edifying;  to  hear 
how  Bella  now  extolled  the  beauty  and  hap- 
piness of  a  thoroughly  honest  nature  ;  and 
she  spoke  in  a  tone  of  deep  emotion,  as  she 
added,  that  she  might  have  won  early  in 
life  a  most  brilliant  lot,  if  she  could  have 
feigned  a  very  little  love.  Eric  did  not 
know  what  to  answer,  and  this  caused  one 
of  those  pauses  which  Pranken,  passing 
with  Roland,  observed. 

Bella  went  on  to  say,  that  it  is  always  a 
blessing  to  do  anything  to  help  a  human 
being ;  it  falls  to  the  lot  of  one  person,  to 
do  this  for  a  fellow-creature  in  the  morning 
of  life  —  here  she  bent  her  head  towards 
Eric  —  while  another  does  it  for  one  in  the 
decline  of  life,  when  the  sacrifice,  quiet  and 
unrecognized,  can  only  be  rewarded  by  the 
consciousness  of  the  service  rendered. 

At  a  bend  of  the  road,  it  happened,  very 
naturally,  that  Eric  walked  with  Roland, 
and  Pranken  with  his  sister.  Roland  was 
jealous  of  Bella,  of  every  person  ;  jealous 
at  every  word,  at  every  look,  that  Eric  di- 
rected to  any  one  but  himself;  he  wished 
to  have  him  wholly  to  himself.  And  as  Ro- 
land now  exhibited  his  childish  humor,  Eric 
shrunk  into  himself  affrighted  ;  he  had  not 
only  allowed  himself  to  be  diverted  from 
Roland,  but  perhaps  also  had  been  commit- 
ting a  wrong  in  a  different  direction. 
There  was  yet  time  for  him  to  retrace  his 
steps.  He  went  to  bid  Clodwig  good-night, 
and  he  was  almost  pleased  to  find  that  he 
had  already  retired  to  rest. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


199 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
READ  BY  ANOTHER'S  EYES. 

On  looking  at  the  picture,  the  next  day, 
Bella  was  painfully  dissatisfied  with  her 
work.  What  she  had  done  with  so  much 
care  and  diligence  seemed  to  her  false  in 
drawing  and  expression.  She  grew  posi- 
tively angry  over  it,  and  would  have  made 
a  fresh  beginning  had  not  Clodwig,  by  his 
gentle  persuasions  and  judicious  praise  of 
the  many  excellencies  of  her  picture,  suc- 
ceeded in  soothing  her.  She  could  not 
help  saying,  however,  with  some  bitterness, 
that  it  was  her  fate  to  have  everything  she 
undertook  turn  out  otherwise  than  she  had 
desired,  and  upon  Clodwig's  assuring  her 
that  such  was  the  necessary  result  of  every 
attempt  to  embody  our  conceptions,  she 
exclaimed  impatiently,  "  I  am  not  what  I 
am.1'  The  real  cause  of  her  discontent 
was  hard  to  determine.  It  was  more  than 
the  mere  dissatisfaction  of  the  artist  and 
disappointment  in  her  own  powers. 

The  strict  discipline  which  Eric  had  wish- 
ed to  maintain  was  now  much  broken  in 
upon.  Bella  always  carried  through  what- 
ever plan  she  had  laid  out  for  herself,  acting 
upon  her  favorite  theory  that  it  was  well  to 
allow  men  to  think  they  had  some  authority, 
but  that  must  be  all. 

Roland  soon  turned  the  conversation  to 
the  subject  always  uppermost  in  his  mind, 
the  life  of  Franklin.  Bella  expressed  a 
wish  to  learn  something  about  it,  and  Clod- 
wig,  after  a  little  sketch  had  been  given  of 
what  had  been  already  gone  over,  was 
quite  ready  to  resume  the  reading  where  it 
had  been  dropped  before.  Eric  and  Ro- 
land, who  sat  upon  a  raised  platform,  list- 
ened eagerly.  The  reading  gave  rise  to 
many  an  animated  discussion,  for  Bella  en- 
tered with  remarkable  ease  and  readiness 
into  everything  that  was  presented  to  her.  j 
Eric  was  disturbed  by  her  speedy  detection 
in  Franklin  of  "  a  certain  dry  pedantry,  j 
a  stinginess  of  nature, "  which  her  acute 
criticisms  set  forth  in  strong  relief.  He 
could  feel  the  emotion  her  words  caused  in 
Roland,  who  was  sitting  on  his  knee. 

In  these  days,  it  is  impossible  for  a  young 
man  of  Roland's  antecedents  and  present 
position  to  preserve  a  perfect  ideal.  If 
rightly  guided,  and  established  on  a  solid 
footing,  it  might  perhaps  be  useful  for  him 
to  see  his  ideal  attacked,  and  even  dis- 
torted. 

With  all  the  eloquence  at  his  command, 
Eric  stated  the  difficulty  that  beset  the  en- 
lightened mind  of  the  present  day,  in  hav- 
ing no  authoritative  voice  in  the  place  of 
that  of  the  Church,  to  say  at  every  point  of 


life's  journey,  "Follow  thou  me."  We 
moderns  must  recognize  what  is  pure  and 
lofty  in  noble  natures,  though  cramped  by' 
the  many  limitations  incident  to  our  age 
and  individual  constitution. 

Bella's  pencil  worked  rapidly  while  he 
was  speaking,  and  she  often  nodded  her 
head  assentingly.  When  he  ended  she 
looked  full  at  him,  and  said,  — 

"You  are  the  best  teacher  I  ever  met 
with  ;  "  then,  with  beaming  eyes  and  glowing 
cheeks,  she  turned  again  to  her  work. 

"That  depends  upon  the  pupil,"  an- 
swered Eric,  politely  acknowledging  the 
compliment. 

"I  want  you,  now,"  continued  Bella, 
still  blushing  deeply,  "  I  want  you  to  lay 
your  hand  on  Roland's  head.  Please  do ; 
it  will  give  precisely  the  effect  I  desire. 
Please  do  as  I  say." 

He  consented,  protesting  at  the  same 
time  that  the  idea  did  not  please  him,  for 
Roland  should  learn  to  carry  his  head  free. 

Bella  shook  her  head  with  vexation,  and 
continued  her  work,  no  longer,  however, 
on  the  figure  of  Eric,  but  solely  on  that  of 
Roland. 

"  Now  I  have  it !  "  she  suddenly  ex- 
claimed; "  that  is  it !  You  resemble  Mu- 
rillo's  St.  Anthony." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  noticed,"  cried  Ro- 
land. "Manna  scolded  me  for  it  at  the 
musical  festival/' 

Clodwig  also  agreed  with  his  wife. 

"It  is  a  favorite  picture  of  mine,"  he 
said.  "  How  plainly  I  can  see  it  now  be- 
fore me  !  The  figure  of  Anthony  on  his 
knees,  with  a  knotted  staff  beside  him ;  the 
landscape  barely  indicated ;  a  tree  in  the 
background,  and  the  thicket  near  by.  An- 
gels are  playing  on  the  ground  and  floating 
in  the  air ;  one  turns  over  the  leaves  of  the 
Saint's  book,  while  another  holds  up  to  an 
angel  hovering  in  the  heavens  a  lily  which 
has  grown  from  the  earth ;  the  flower  thus 
forming,  as  it  were,  a  link  between  heaven 
and  earth." 

Eric  was  somewhat  embarrassed  by  Ro- 
land's relating  how  he  had  fallen  asleep  in 
the  chapel  of  the  convent,  and  how  suddenly 
the  black  nun  stood  beside  him,  and  he  saw 
the  picture  above  him. 

A  request  of  Eric's  that  the  reading 
might  stop  here,  and  the  reasons  on  which 
he  based  his  request,  assumed  various  shapes 
in  the  minds  of  his  hearers. 

"To-day's  experience  convinces  me," 
he  said,  "  that  we  cannot  control  our 
thoughts  or  pursue  them  to  any  worthy 
issue,  when  obliged  to  remain  in  a  position 
foreign  to  those  thoughts,  or  in  one  at  least 
that  has  no  connection  with  them.  There 


200 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


is  a  mysterious  sympathy  between  our 
thoughts  and  the  position  and  state  of  our 
bodies." 

Eric's  words  worked  in  four  different 
ways  upon  the  party  assembled.  In  his 
own  case,  they  served  to  describe  his  posi- 
tion as  tutor.  Roland  thought  of  the  ma- 
sons at  work  on  the  castle,  and  wondered 
what  they  must  be  thinking  of  while  perched 
in  mid  air  on  their  scaffoldings,  or  while 
hammering  the  stone.  Clodwig,  too,  must 
have  found  the  words  bear  in  some  way 
upon  his  life,  for  he  shook  his  head  and 
pressed  his  lips  hard  together,  as  he  was 
wont  to  do  when  thinking.  But  upon  Bella 
they  produced  the  most  striking  impression  ; 
she  suddenly  let  fall  from  one  hand  her 
pencils,  and  from  the  other  the  bread  which 
she  used  for  the  occasional  erasing  of  a 
line.  Eric  instantly  restored  them  to  her, 
and  she  took  them  from  him  with  a  vacant 
look  and  no  word  of  thanks.  He  had 
brought  before  her  the  picture  of  her  mar- 
ried life.  Thus  this  one  key-note  had 
struck  four  different  chords. 

For  a  long  time  no~word  was  spoken. 

The  presence  of  Clodwig  and  his  family  at 
Villa  Eden  caused  great  excitement  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  appeared  to  place  the 
tutor  in  a  very  peculiar  position.  Pranken, 
however,  viewed  the  matter  quite  different- 
ly, and,  as  acknowledged  son  of  the  house, 
invited  to  Villa  Eden  the  Justice,  with 
his  wife  and  daughter,  who  had  just  re- 
turned from  the  Baths. 

His  manner  towards  Lina  was  particu- 
larly friendly  and  intimate ;  he  took  long 
walks  in  the  garden  with  her,  and  made 
her  tell  him  about  her  life  in  a  convent, 
which  she  did  most  amusingly,  giving  com- 
ical descriptions  of  the  sisters,  the  Supe- 
rior, and  her  different  companions.  Her 
only  object  in  staying  at  the  convent  had 
been  the  learning  of  foreign  languages. 
Lina's  perpetually  gay  spirits  began  to 
have  a  cheering  effect  upon  the  melancholy 
Pranken.  Something  of  the  Pranken  of 
old  times  was  roused  within  him.  Why 
need  the  present  be  empty  and  barren  ?  it 
said.  Bella  has  her  flirtation  with  the  Cap- 
tain, why  should  he  not  have  his  with  Lina? 
"Why  not  indulge  in  a  little  harmless  jest- 
ing, perhaps  even  admit  the  excitement 
of  some  feeling  ?  He  could  control  himself 
at  any  moment. 

The  old  Pranken,  the  Pranken  of  the 
days  before,  seized  his  rescued  moustache 
with  both  hands  and  twirled  it  in  the  air. 

It  was  a  good  idea,  during  this  pause  in 
his  life,  to  amuse  himself  with  the  Justice's 
Lina.  He  could  imagine  himself  transported 
back  to  the  days  before  that  visit  to  the 


convent,  and  add  this  to  the  many  other 
experiences  of  his  past  life  which  Manna 
would  have  to  forget. 

Lina  meanwhile  received  his  attentions 
very  unconcernedly,  showing  equal  friendli- 
ness of  manner  towards  both  him  and  Eric, 
whom  she  always  called  her  brother  in 
music. 

There  was  a  constant  stream  of  jesting 
and  laughter  in  the  Villa  and  park.  One 
day  Pranken  induced  his  brother-in-law  to 
go  boating  with  Lina  and  himself,  while 
Bella  remained  at  home  to  draw.  He 
wanted  to  take  Roland  also,  wishing,  with 
a  certain  recklessness,  to  leave  the  other 
two  alone  together  for  once.  But  Roland 
would  not  leave  Eric ;  he  even  openly 
avoided  Pranken's  society. 

Lina  sang  gaily  as  they  sat  together  in 
the  boat.  Her  love-songs  were  given  with  a 
sweetness,  an  abandonment,  that  Pranken 
had  never  heard  from  her  before.  Clodwig 
described  her  singing  to  his  wife,  on  his  re- 
turn, as  being  as  simple  and  beautiful  as  a 
field  flower. 

Bella  begged  the  Justice  and  his  wife  to 
let  her  take  Lina  back  with  her  to  Wolfs- 
garten.  The  Justice's  objections  were  over- 
ruled by  his  wife,  and  Lina  was  full  of  de- 
light at  setting  off  with  Bella  and  Clodwig. 

Pranken  rode  beside  the  carriage. 

The  quiet  of  this  loneliness  weighed  heav- 
ily again  upon  Eric  and  Roland,  after  the 
animated  society  of  the  last  few  days.  Eric, 
beside,  was  out  of  tune,  weary  and  dull. 
He  found  it  a  burden  to  be  obliged  to  de- 
vote himself  from  morning  to  night  to  this 
boy,  to  have  to  watch  his  undisciplined,  and 
often  capricious,  fluctuations  of  mind.  He 
longed  for  the  society  of  Clodwig;  still 
more,  though  he  hardly  acknowledged  it  to 
himself,  for  that  of  Bella.  There  had  been 
a  novelty,  an  animation,  an  excitement,  an 
atmosphere  of  graceful  elegance,  about  the 
rooms,  which  were  now  so  desolate.  Never- 
theless, he  resisted  for  several  days  Roland's 
entreaties  that  they  should  make  the  prom- 
ised visit  to  Wolfsgarten.  The  house  had 
been  entrusted  to  his  care,  and  he  refused 
to  leave  it,  until  Pranken,  at  length,  offered 
to  take  all  the  responsibility  upon  himself. 
There  was  a  sting  in  his  words,  as  he  said 
to  Eric,  — 

"You  were  present  at  the  musical  festival, 
and  left  the  house  then  in  charge  of  only 
the  servants.  Besides,  as  I  say,  I  assume 
the  entire  responsibility." 

CHAPTER  XX. 
ENTERING  INTO  THE  LIVES  OF  OTHERS. 

Beautiful  it  is  in  the  valley,  on  the  river's 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


201 


bank,  -where  the  waters  glide  by  so  swiftly, 
yet  so  undisturbed ;  beautiful  to  see  how 
they  glisten  in  the  daylight,  reflecting  every 
passing  change  in  the  sky,  and  bearing  to 
and  fro  the  hurrying  boats ;  and  again  in 
the  evening,  to  hear  the  quiet  murmur  of 
the  stream,  as  it  lies  undenthe  radiance  of 
the  moon.  But  beautiful  it  is  also  to  look 
from  the  mountain-top,  over  the  forests,  the 
terraced  vineyards,  the  villages,  the  cities, 
and  the  far-reaching  river. 
.  A  fresh  impulse  and  animation  were  now 
given  to  the  life  at  Wolfsgarten.  The  pic- 
ture of  Eric  and  Roland  was  brought  to 
completion,  and  Eric  set  in  order  Clodwig's 
cabinet,  thus  introducing  his  pupil  to  the 
curiosities  of  antiquity.  There  was  singing 
and  laughing,  there  Avere  walks  and  rides 
in  the  neighboring  forests,  and  many  a 
memorable  conversation. 

Bella  ofren  took  the  parrot  with  her  when 
she  walked  with  Eric  through  the  park  and 
the  forest.  The  bird  took  a  great  antipathy 
to  Eric,  and  would  scold  at  him  from  its 
place  on  its  mistress's  shoulder.  Some- 
times she  let  it  loose  with  the  injunction, 
"  Be  sure  and  come  home  at  night,  Koko ;  " 
and  Koko  would  perch  upon  a  tree,  and  fly 
this  way  and  that,  through  the  forest,  always 
returning  at  evening.  Her  freed  slave, 
Bella  called  him,  at  such  times. 

Now,  however,  Koko  had  been  absent 
two  days.  Clodwig  offered  every  reward 
to  get  the  bird  back  again,  never  remarking 
how  quietly  his  wife  took  her  favorite's  loss. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  Bella  walked  with 
Eric  while  Roland  and  Lina  roamed  about 
together  in  the  forest,  Lina  delighted  at  be- 
ing allowed  to  revel  in  a  child's  freedom. 
At  other  times,  when  Eric  and  Bella  were 
strolling  through  park  and  forest,  Roland 
would  sit  in  the  potter's  workshop,  where 
the  clay  from  the  neigboring  hills  was 
moulded.  He  had  the  whole  process  ex- 
plained to  him,  and  was  amazed  to  see  what 
care  and  labor  a  single  vessel  required. 
Two  boys,  of  about  his  own  age,  trampled 
the  clay  with  their  naked  feet  in  order  to 
render  it  pliable,  after  which  workmen 
formed  it  into  tiles  and  architectural  orna- 
ments. At  a  potter's  wheel  sat  a  handsome, 
powerfully-built  youth,  turning  it  with  his 
bare  feet ;  then  he  lifted  the  clay  with  great 
care  into  the  required  shape,  formed  the 
rim  and  the  nose,  and  almost  tenderly  raised 
the  finished  vessel  from  the  wheel,  and  set 
it  in  its  place  on  a  shelf  with  the  others. 
He  always  took  precisely  the  quantity  of 
clay  required  for  the  vessel,  and  never  al- 
lowed his  heavy  hands  to  make  on  it  an 
impression  which  he  had  not  designed. 

Roland  watched  the  whole  scene  thought- 


fully. Could  these  men  be  helped  by 
money  ?  No ;  their  life  might  be  made 
richer,  but  they  must  still  work. 

The  young  man  who  shaped  the  vessels  was 
dumb.  He  would  give  Roland  a  friendly 
glance  when  he  entered,  and  then  quietly  keep 
on  with  his  work.  The  master  praised  him 
very  highly  to  Roland,  who,  being  desirous 
of  doing  something  for  him,  presented  him 
with  his  handsome  pocket-knife.  It  con- 
tained many  instruments  within  it,  and 
much  delighted  the  poor  mute. 

Roland  told  Eric  what  he  had  seen,  and 
what  thoughts  had  come  into  his  mind.  He 
had  noticed  that  the  workmen  had  their  food 
brought  them,  from  a  great  distance,  by  old 
women  and  little  children,  and  asked  wheth- 
er no  better  arrangement  could  be  made 
for  them. 

Eric  looked  at  the  boy  with  unsympa- 
thizing  eyes  as  he  spoke.  How  he  would 
once  have  rejoiced  in  this  proof  of  his  pu- 
pil's interest  in  the  welfare  of  his  fellow-men  ; 
but  now  he  seemed  wholly  absorbed  in  other 
matters. 

A  beautifully  engraved  card  brought  to 
Wolfsgarten  a  piece  of  news  that  proved  a 
fertile  subject  of  conversation, —  the  betroth- 
al of  the  Wine-count's  daughter  with  the 
son  of  the  Court-marshal.  It  seemed  an  ex- 
traordinary step  on  the  part' of  the  young 
man,  who  was  suffering  with  a  mortal  dis- 
ease, but  still  more  extraordinary  that  the 
lady,  a  fresh  young  girl,  overflowing  with 
life  and  health,  should  have  made  up  her 
mind  to  such  a  union.  Lina,  who  was  well 
versed  in  the  private  history  of  every  one' 
in  the  neighborhood,  accounted  for  it  by 
saying  that  the  Wine-count's  daughter  had 
always  expressed  a  great  desire  to  be  a  wid- 
owed baroness.  There  was  a  deep  under- 
tone of  meaning,  a  something  not  wholly 
expressed,  in  Bella's  way  of  speaking  of  this 
connection,  particularly  when  addressing 
Eric,  which  seemed  to  take  for  granted  that 
he  would  understand  what  she  half  con- 
cealed. 

The  newspaper  brought  another  piece  of 
intelligence,  the  return  of  the  Prince's  broth- 
er from  America,  where  he  had  been  a  care- 
ful observer;  and  his  bringing  with  him  for 
the  Prince  a  freed  slave,  in  the  person  of  a 
handsome  African. 

While  they  were  still  discussing  the  im- 
pression which  a  sight  of  the  American 
Republic  must  make  on  a  German  prince, 
Roland  came  in  from  the  forest,  exclaiming, 
—  "I  have  him  !  I  have  him  !  " 

He  was  holding  the  parrot  by  his  claws. 

"  There  you  are  again,  my  freed  slave  !" 
cried  Bella,  as  the  bird  tore  himself  from 
Roland's  grasp,  and,  perching  upon  his  mis- 


202 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


tress^  shoulder,  began  a  violent  scolding  at 
Eric. 

Clodwig  did  not  allow  himself  to  be 
easily  interrupted  in  a  discussion  he  had 
once  entered  upon,  and  proceeded  to  state 
the  results  of  his  observations  in  the  world. 
Bella  took  an  active  part  in  the  conversation. 
It  sometimes  seemed  to  Eric,  that  there  was 
nothing  beyond  a  certain  superficial  clever- 
ness in  her  ready  flow  of  words  ;  but  he  re- 
jected the  criticism  as  a  pedantic  one. 

His  life  among  books,  he  said  to  himself, 
had  rendered  him  unsusceptible  to  this 
easy,  graceful  brilliancy,  while  his  profes- 
sion as  teacher  led  him  to  be  always  on  the 
watch  for  an  elaborate  network  of  thoughts 
and  impressions,  where  there  was  meant  to 
be  nothing  but  a  simple  expression  of  natu- 
ral feeling.  He  now  gave  himself  freely 
up  to  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  the  close 
companionship  of  so  richly  endowed  a  na- 
ture. These  butterfly  movements  of  the 
miud  he  began  to  look  upon  as  legitimately 
feminine  characteristics,  which  were  not  to 
be  roughly  criticized.  Hitherto  he  had 
been  familiar,  in  his  mother  and  aunt,  only 
with  that  severe  and  business-like  consci- 
entiousness, in  all  intellectual  and  moral 
matters,  which  borders  on  the  masculine  ; 
here  was  a  nature  that  craved  only  to  sip 
the  foam  of  life.  Why  require  anything 
further  of  it? 

When  Bella  was  one  day  walking  with 
Eric  in  the  park,  Roland  and  Lina  mean- 
while sitting  with  Clodwig,  she  complained 
of  not  being  able  to  repress  the  religious 
doubts  that  often  beset  her,  while,  at  the 
same  time,  existence  without  a  belief  in  a 
compensating  future  life  was  a  terrible 
enigma.  Without  wishing  to  weaken  this 
idea,  Eric  sought  to  give  her  the  assured 
peace  which  can  be  found  in  the  realms  of 
pure  thought.  There  was  a  strange  con- 
tradiction in  the  hearts  of  these  two,  imag- 
ining, as  they  did,  that  they  were  speaking 
of  things  far  above  and  beyond  all  life,  while 
in  reality  they  were  talking  of  life  itself, 
and  that  in  a  way  whose  significance  they 
would  not  willingly  have  acknowledged  to 
themselves. 

Suddenly  Betram  came  riding  towards 
them,  his  horse  white  with  foam,  and  while 
at  a  distance  cried  out,  — 

"Herr  Captain,  you  must  return  in- 
stantly.11 

"  What  has  happened  ? 11  asked  Eric.  _ 
Clodwig  came  up  with  Roland  and  Lina, 

and  Pranken  also  appeared  at  the  windows, 

all  anxious  to  know  what  had  happened. 
"Thieves!    robbers!11   cried  Bertram. 

"  The  villa  has  been  broken  into,  and  Herr 

Sonnenkamp's  room  entered." 


A  few  moments  later,  Eric  and  Pranken 
were  in  the  wagon  driving  back  to  the  villa. 
Pranken^  vexation  was  extreme,  for  he  had 
taken  the  whole  responsibilitv  upon  him- 
self. 

For  a  long  time  neither  of  the  three 
spoke,  until  at  'last  Roland  broke  the  si- 
lence, by  asking  Eric  what  he  thought 
Franklin  would  have  thought  and  said  of 
such  a  robbery. 

Pranken  replied  with  some  warmth,  "I 
should  think  a  son^  first  question  would 
be,  '  What  will  my  father  say  to  it  ?  1 11 

Roland  and  Eric  were  silent.  Again 
they  drove  on  for  a  lonoj  while  without  a 
word  being  spoken.  Eric  was  tormented 
by  accusing  thoughts.  He  seemed  to  him- 
self doubly  a  thief.  These  men  had  broken 
into  the  rooms  of  the  villa  by  night ;  what 
had  he  done  ?  He  had  forgotten  the  soul 
entrusted  to  him,  and,  worse  still,  after  be- 
ing received  by  the  kindest  friendship,  he 
had,  under  cover  of  lofty  thoughts  and  no- 
ble sentiments,  in  word,  thought,  and  look 
been  faithless  to  the  most  precious  trust  in 
the  person  of  his  friend^  wife.  He  pressed 
his  hand  to  his  heart,  which  beat  as  if  it 
would  burst  his  bosom.  Those  men,  for 
having  stolen  gold,  would  be  overtaken  by 
the  justice  of  the  law ;  tmt  for  himself,  — 
what  would  overtake  him?  Conscious  that 
Roland^  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him,  he  cast 
his  own  on  the  ground  in  painful  confusion. 

Finally  he  controlled  himself,  and  said  in 
a  trembling  voice,  that  he  should  assume  the 
entire  responsibility ;  he  acknowledged 
Pranken1  s  friendliness,  but  felt  that  in  such 
a  case  as  this,  no  one  could  interpose  be- 
tween himself  and  the  consequences  of  neg- 
lect of  duty.  So  severely  did  he  reproach 
himself,  that  Roland  and  Pranken  looked  at 
him  in  amazement. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
LEARN  THE  EVIL  THAT  IS  IN  MAN. 

Villa  Eden  had  hitherto  been  sur- 
rounded by  a  mysterious  magic.  Fear  and 
envy  had  given  rise  to  the  report  that  there 
was  something  wrong  about  the  inmates ; 
about  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  whom  everybody 
saw,  and  Frau  Ceres,  whom  scarcely  any- 
body saw.  The  threats  of  spring-guns  and 
man-traps  posted  upon  the  walls  imbued 
the  ignorant  people  in  the  neighborhood 
with  an  almost  superstitious  fear.  It  was 
even  said  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp  had 
smeared  the  trap  with  a  poison  for  which 
there  was  no  antidote.  The  servants  of 
the  house  affected  somewhat  the  reserve  of 
their  superiors  ;  they  had  little  intercourse 
with  others,  and  were  hardly  saluted  by 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


203 


them.  But  the  mysterious  dragon,  which, 
no  one  knew  how  or  where,  kept  secret 
watch  over  the  villa,  seemed  nothing  but  a 
scarecrow  after  this  robbery ;  the  beautiful 
white  house  was  stripped  of  its  charm ;  it 
was  as  if  all  the  bolts  were  thrown  back. 
Quickly  the  report  gained  ground  that  the 
house-servants  had  committed  the  robbery. 

The  people  on  the  roads  and  in  the  vil- 
lages through  which  the  carriage  •  passed 
looked  up  and  nodded  to  Eric,  Roland,  and 
Pranken,  as  they  drove  swiftly  by.  The 
few  who  raised  their  caps  did  it  hesitatingly, 
as  if  they,  like  the  rest,  would  say,  It  is  all 
up  now  with  your  master ;  the  officers  will 
soon  find  out  what  has  been  going  on 
among  you. 

The  three  men  found  everything  in  con- 
fusion at  the  villa  when  they  arrived. 

The  porter  at  once  expressed  conviction 
that  the  robbery  had  been  committed  by 
persons  belonging  to  the  house,  because  all 
the  doors  had  been  closely  fastened,  and  not 
a  dog  had  barked ;  showing  that  the  thieves 
must  have  been  familiar  with  the  house, 
and  well  known  to  the  dogs. 

The  officers  were  already  on  the  spot. 
Sonnenkamp's  work-room  had  been  entered, 
and  treasures  stolen  whose  value  could  not 
be  estimated,  among  them  a  dagger  with 
a  jewelled  handle.  The  thieves  had  even 
tried  to  force  the  fire-proof  safe,  but  in  vain. 
Great  goblets  of  gold  and  silver  which  stood 
upon  the  sideboard  in  the  dressing-room 
had  disappeared,  as  well  as  Roland's  gold 
watch,  which,  when  he  went  to  Wolfsgarten, 
he  had  left  on  the  table  beside  his  bed.  His 
pillow  had  also  been  taken,  but  was  after- 
wards found  on  the  wall,  where  it  had 
served  to  make  a  smooth  and  easy  passage 
over  the  broken  glass  which  had  been  in- 
tended to  make  the  wall  insurmountable. 

Two  footprints  were  discovered  in  the 
park  and  behind  the  hot-house.  The  thieves 
must  have  stumbled  among  the  heaps  of  gar- 
den mould,  for  on  one  of  these  was  plainly 
visible  the  impression  of  a  human  body  ;  one 
of  the  thieves  had  evidently  fallen  there. 
Here  was  also  found  a  pair  of  the  dwarf's 
old  boots,  which,  on  being  compared  with 
the  footprints  in  the  garden,  were  found 
exactly  to  correspond.  Thus  a  clue  was 
gained,  though  a  very  uncertain  one.  The 
dwarf  just  then  came  by,  on  his  way  to  his 
accustomed  work,  and  listened  in  aston- 
ishment to  an  account  of  what  had  happened. 
He  was  allowed  to  work  on  undisturbed. 

The  officer  who  had  charge  of  the  investi- 
gation, and  his  assistants,  the  burgomaster 
of  the.  village,  and  some  of  the  chief  men, 
were  assembled  in  the  balcony-room,  ex- 
amining the  various  servants.   Roland  stood 


apart,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  pillow  which 
had  been  stolen  and  made  use  of  by  the 
thieves  in  climbing  the  wall.  He  grew  very 
pale,  as  he  stood  there  listening  to  the  ques- 
tions that  were  asked  of  one  man  after  an- 
other, in  the  hope  of  extorting  something 
from  each. 

'  The  dwarf  appeared,  and  said  that  a  pair  of 
boots  had  been  stolen  from  him. 

"  Yes,1'  replied  the  officer  at  once,  "  the 
theft  was  committed  in  your  boots.11 

The  dwarfs  face  wore  a  simple  expression, 
as  if  he  had  not  understood  what  was  meant. 

The  officer  ordered  his  instant  arrest.  He 
complained  piteously  that  the  innocent  were 
always  the  ones  to  be  suspected,  and  Ro- 
land begged  that  the  poor  creature  might 
be  allowed  to  go  free. 

"  I  will  throttle  any  one  who  touches 
me,11  cried  the  dwarf,  his  excitement  seem- 
ing to  make  a  different  being  of  him. 

At  a  sign  from  the  officer,  two  men  quiet- 
ly bound  the  poor  creature^  hands  behind 
his  back. 

Eric  led  Roland  away.  Why  should  he 
see  this  night-side  of  human  nature  ? 

Happily  the  Major  appeared  at  this  mo- 
ment, and  Eric  delivered  Roland  to  him. 

"  Here  is  a  lesson  for  you,  young  man,11 
said  the  Major.  "  Everything  can  be  stolen 
from  you,  except  your  heart,  when  in  the 
right  place,  and  except  what  you  have  in  your 
head ;  they  can  never  be  stolen  from  you. 
Mark  that." 

The  officer  had  the  servants  brought  be- 
fore him,  and  questioned  them  as  to  the  per- 
sons who  had  lately  visited  the  villa.  They 
mentioned  the  names  of  many,  but  the  por- 
ter said,  — 

"The  Herr  Captain  took  the  huntsman 
by  himself  over  the  whole  house,  and  when 
he  left  he  said  to  me,  '  You  guard  the  rich 
man's  money  and  treasures,  when  it  would 
be  better  to  throw  the  doors  wide  open,  and 
to  scatter  it  abroad  in  the  world.1 11 

Eric  could  not  deny  that  the  huntsman 
had  observed  everything  very  closely,  and 
had  talked  in  a  confused  way  about  the  dis- 
tinction of  rich  and  -  poor ;  yet  he  thought 
he  could  answer  for  the  man's  honesty. 

The  officer  made  no  answer,  but  des- 
patched two  of  his  men  to  search  the  house 
of  Claus. 

The  huntsman  smiled  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  when  he  saw  what  their  intention 
was.  Nothing  was  found,  but  in  a  kennel 
was  chained  a  dog  that  barked  incessantly. 

"  Unfasten  the  dog^  chain,11  said  one  of 
the  men  to  Claus,  who  had  followed  them 
through  all  the  rooms  and  into  the  court, 
saying  nothing,  but  keeping  his  lips  moving 
all  the  time. 


204 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


l*  What  for?  " 

"  Because  I  bid  you  ;  if  you  don't  do  it 
at  once,  I  shall  shoot  the  dog  through  the 
head." 

Upon  the  dog  being  set  free,  the  kennel 
was  searched,  and  in  it,  under  the  straw, 
were  found  Roland's  watch  and  the  jewel- 
halted  dagger.  Claus  was  immediately  bound 
and  put  under  arrest,  in  spite  of  his  earnest 
protestations  of  innocence.  On  the  way 
from  his  house  to  the  villa  he  kept  raising 
his  chains,  as  if  to  show  them  appcalingly  to 
the  holds,  the  vineyards,  and  the  heavens. 

A  list  was  made  out  of  the  stolen  articles 
as  far  as  they  could  be  described,  and  Ro- 
land was  summoned  to  sign  his  name  for  the 
first  time  to  an  official  document. 

"There  is  no  calculating  the  effect  such 
a  thing  must  produce  on  the  boy,"  said 
Eric  to  the  Major,  who  was  standing  by. 

"  It  will  do  him  no  harm,"  replied  the 
Major;  "  his  heart  is  sound,  and  Fräulein 
Milch  says,  '  A  young  heart  and  a  young 
stomach  are  quick  digesters.1  " 

Fraulein  Milch  was  mistaken  this  time, 
for  at  sight  of  Claus  brought  in  in  chains, 
Roland  uttered  a  cry  of  distress. 

A  new  scent  was  presently  started.  The 
groom,  who  had  been  in  Pranken's  pay  as  a 
spy,  and  afterwards  dismissed  by  Sonnen- 
kamp, had,  within  the  last  few  days,  been 
seen  and  recognized  in  the  neighborhood, 
though  he  had  taken  great  pains  to  disguise 
himself.  Telegrams  were  immediately  des- 
patched in  all  directions  for  the  arrest  of 
the  supposed  thief,  and  also  to  Sonnenkamp. 

The  priest  came,  lamented  what  had  hap- 
pened, using  a  noble  charity  in  speaking  of 
the  disaster,  and  begged  Eric  not  to  lay  it 
too  much  to  heart,  because,  devoted  as  he 
had  been  to  learning  and  science,  he  could 
naturally  have  no  proper  knowledge  of  the 
wickedness  of  his  fellow-men,  and  had  nat- 
urally allowed  himself  to  be  taken  unawares 
by  it. 

Eric  was  more  humbled  in  spirit  than  the 
priest  thought  reasonable.  He  remembered 
having  once  said,  that  the  man  who  conse- 
crates himself  to  an  idea  must  renounce  all 
else ;  and  now  he  was  humiliated  by  stand- 
ing in  the  presence  of  one  who,  in  his  way, 
acted  up  to  this  sentiment,  while  he  himself 
had  allowed  the  excitement  of  mental  dis- 
sipation to  drag  him  down  from  his  high 
standard. 

The  priest  repeated,  that  in  all  our  plans 
we  should  take  into  account  the  wickedness 
of  mankind;  and  Eric,  who  hardly  knew 
what  answer  to  make,  assured  him  that  he 
was  well  aware  of  the  necessity,  having  vol- 


men  to  their  better  selves.  Neither  Eric 
nor  the  priest,  who  praised  him,  noticed  the 
effect  which  this  confession  produced  upon 
Roland.  He  was,  then,  in  the  hands  of  a 
man  who  had  tried  to  counsel  criminals, 
who  had  lived  in  a  House  of  Correction  !  A 
fear  and  repugnance  took  possession  of  the 
boy's  soul.  Eric's  motive  was  forgotten; 
Roland  seemed  to  himself  humiliated.  He 
sat  a  long  time  silently  buried  in  thought, 
his  face  covered  with  his  hands. 

The  priest  approached  him  at  last,  and 
admonished  him  not  to  let  this  accident  dis- 
hearten him,  but  only  let  it  teach  him  not 
to  place  his  trust  in  the  treasures  of  this 
world,  particularly  in  his  own  possessions ; 
neither  to  have  that  so-called  faith  in  hu- 
manity, which  is  a  deceitful  faith,  exposed 
to  daily  shocks ;  for  there  was  but  one  sure 
and  abiding  faith,  that  in  God,  the  supreme 
being,  eternal  and  unchanging,  who  never 
deceives. 

Roland  remained  silent  and  absorbed  for 
some  time  after  he  and  Eric  were  left 
alone  ;  finally  he  asked  :  — 

"Does  my  father  know  what  you  once 

were  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me?" 

"  Why?  I  had  no  reason  for  concealing 
it  from  you,  or  for  telling  you." 

The  boy  again  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  and  Eric,  feeling  that  the  course  he 
was  here  called  upon  to  defend  was  one  un- 
dertaken from  the  purest  motives,  while 
within  him  he  was  conscious  of  a  guilt 
which  none  but  himself  could  upbraid  him 
with,  explained  to  Roland  how  he  had  felt 
it  his  duty  to  devote  himself  to  the  most 
unhappy.  He  spoke  so  touchingly  that  the 
boy  suddenly  raised  his  head,  and,  holding 
out  his  hand  to  him,  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of 
the  deepest  feeling  :  — 

"  Forgive  me  !  Ah,  you  are  better  than 
all." 

The  words  smote  Eric  to  the  soul. 

The  officers  of  the  law  had  left  the  villa, 
and  even  Pranken  had  ridden  away.  Ro- 
land went  about  the  house,  looking  fear- 
fully behind  him,  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost, 
an  evil  spirit.  •  The  stairs  had  been  trod- 
den by  wicked  men,  the  doors  had  been 
tried  by  their  instruments  ;  the  house  and 
all  its  treasures  had  been  desecrated ;  he  had 
lost-  pleasure  not  only  in  the  things  which 
had  been  plundered,  but  still  more  in  those 
which  could  not  be  taken,  which  the  thieves 
had  been  obliged  to  leave. 

He  begged  Eric  not  to  leave  him  for  a 
moment,  so  great  was  his  fear.    At  night 


untarily  passed  some  time  in  a  House  of  he  was  unwilling  to  go  to  bed ;  rest  seemed 
Correction,  for  the  sake  of  restoring  guilty  I  impossible  to  him  in  a  place  where  the 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


205 


hands  of  robbers  bad  taken  the  pillows 
from  his  bed.  Eric  yielded  to  his  entreat- 
ies that  he  would  remain  by  him,  and  said, 
after  Roland  had  finally  gone  to  bed,  — 

"  I  owe  you  an  answer  to  your  question, 
—  What  would  Franklin  have  saicA)  this  rob- 
bery ?  I  think  I  know.  He  Äuld  have 
had  no  compassion  on  the  thieves ;  he 
would  have  given  them  up  to  the  full 
penalty  of  the  law ;  but  at  the  same  time 
he  would  have  maintained,  that  the  wicked- 
ness of  individuals  should  not  be  allowed 
to  rob  us  of  our  faith  in  humanity ;  for  if 
thieves  could  inflict  that  loss  upon  us,  they 
would  be  robbing  us  of  more  than  hands 
can  touch." 

Roland  nodded  assent.  Long  after  he 
had  fallen  asleep,  Eric  stood  by  the  bed- 
side, thoughtfully  watching  the  boy,  who  had 
had  to  learn  this  lesson  thus  early, —  Of  what 
use  is  all  this  subtle  study ;  of  what  advan- 
tage any  conscious  training?  An  invisible, 
irresistible  power,  the  great  current  of 
life's  experience,  educates  a  man  far  more 
than  a  single  human  teacher  can  do,  and  in 
a  different  way. 

Long  did  Eric  stand  at  the  window,  gaz- 
ing out  upon  the  river  and  the  vine-covered 
hills.  We  all  work  according  to  the 
strength  that  is  in  us  ;  the  result  of  our 
labors  lies  not  in  our  hands,  but  in  the  con- 
trol of  that  invisible,  all-embracing  power 
whose  origin  we  know  not,  and  which  we  can 
only  call  God.  • 

Eric  was  deeply  moved.  This  event 
could  not  afflict  his  young  charge  so  deeply 
as  it  did  him,  for  he  was  conscious  of  a 
power  mightier  than  any  effort  of  his  own 
thoughts,  drawing  him  back  from  the  edge 
of  an  abyss.  He  looked  into  the  future, 
and  a  fixed  resolve  was  formed  within  him. 

He  was  summoned  away  by  a  messenger 
from  the  officer  who  had  conducted  the 
examination,  bringing  a  telegram  from 
Sonnenkamp.    It  ran  thus  :  — 

"Journey  to  sea-shore  given  up;  com- 
ing home ;  shall  find  thieves,  under  what- 
ever title." 


BOOK  VI.     CHAPTER  I. 
THE  MASTER  AT  HOME  AGAIN. 

Herr  Soxxexkamp  returned  to  his  villa 
like  a  ruler  to  his  castle  where  a  mutiny 
has  lately  broken  out.  Every  step  in  his 
house,  every  glance  at  a  servant,  said, 
I  am  here  again,  and  with  me  authority  and 
order. 

Eric  did  not  lay  upon  Pranken  the 
blame  of  what  had  happened,  but  confessed 
that  he  himself  had  been  guilty  of  neglect 


of  duty.  Sonnenkamp  seemed  to  take 
pleasure  in  seeing  Eric  humbled.  He  was 
one  of  those  who  love  to  rule  others. 
With  enough  humanity  in  him  to  make  him 
prefer  a  willing  obedience,  he  yet  had  no 
rest,  when  that  proved  impossible,  till  his 
man  was  subdued  and  brought  to  his  feet ; 
then,  and  not  till  then,  was  he  willing  to 
raise  him  up,  for  not  till  then  was  he  sure 
of  the  mastery.  This  self-reliant  Captain- 
doctor  had  assumed  a  demeanor  that  was 
unbecoming  in  him ;  now  he  was  humbled, 
and  would  have  to  be  grateful  for  every  act 
of  kindness  and  friendliness  done  him. 
Sonnenkamp  had  no  suspicion  of  the  satis- 
faction Eric  took  in  his  humiliation,  or  of  his 
motives  for  it ;  he  regarded  this  humble  sub- 
mission as  a  triumph  of  his  authority,  while 
to  Eric  himself  it  was  a  confession  of  weak- 
ness in  having  been  tempted  by  the  magic 
of  Bella's  charms  to  forget  the  strict  watch- 
fulness which  was  his  duty. 

Sonnenkamp  soon  perceived  that  the 
amount  of  the  robbery  was  insignificant. 
He  said,  with  a  certain  malicious  pleas- 
ure :  — 

' '  The  knaves  stole  my  jewelled  dagger  ; 
it  has  a  poisoned  point,  which  is  death  to 
whomsoever  it  scratches.'" 

Eric  had  hardly  power  left  to  tell  that  the 
dagger  was  already  in  possession  of  the  offi- 
cers of  justice,  so  great  a  horror  thrilled 
him.  Why  should  this  man  keep  a  pois- 
oned dagger  ? 

Pranken  and  the  Major  soon  appeared, 
and  Pranken  was  honest  enough  to  take 
the  whole  responsibility  upon  himself.  He 
could  not  refrain  from  saying,  however,  that 
Eric  had  previously  left  the  villa  to  go  to 
a  musical  festival,  and  had  won  a  surprising 
reputation  there.  Sonnenkamp  said,  with  a 
smile  :  — 

"You  kept  Roland  at  home  instead  of 
letting  him  go  to  the  Baths,  in  order  to  keep 
him  free  from  excitement ;  have  you  pre- 
served him  from  it  ?  " 

Eric  was  prevented  from  answering  by 
the  arrival  of  the  priest,  to  whom  Sonnen- 
kamp, who  had  never  made  any  gift  to  the 
church,  announced  his  intention  of  present- 
ing to  it  the  gold  and  silver  vessels  which 
had  been  taken  from  the  sideboard.  As  if 
involuntarily,  he  added  :  — 

"  I  don't  want  them  any  more  in  my 
house.  You,  reverend  sir,  will  give  them 
a  fresh  consecration." 

Eric  expressed  in  a  whisper  to  the  Major, 
who  stood  by  him,  his  pleasure  at  this  ar- 
rangement, and  his  belief  that  it  would  ex- 
ert a  salutary  influence  on  Roland,  whose 
peace  of  mind  had  been  in  a  great  measure 
destroyed  by  the  robbery.  Sonnenkamp 


206 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


heard  his  words,  though  spoken  in  so  low  a 
tone,  and  said  :  — 

11  My  highly  honored  Herr  Captain,  let 
me  tell  you  honestly  that  I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  sentimentalities,  and  that  I  desire 
Roland  should  early  acquire  a  knowledge 
of  these  so-called  well-disposed  lower  class- 
es, and  learn  that  they  are  nothing  but  a 
mass  of  conspiracy  against  the  holders  of 
property,  awaiting  the  first  favorable  oppor- 
tunity to  break  out,  or  rather  to  break  in." 

Sonnenkamp  was  in  the  highest  degree 
animated  and  cheerful.  His  only  cause  of 
regret  was,  that  there  should  have  been  so 
much  talk  made  about  the  affair  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  that  so  much  valuable 
time  had  to  be  lost  in  the  processes  of  law. 
Frau  Ceres  said  not  a  word  about  the  rob- 
bery ;  it  almost  seemed  as  if  she  had  not 
heard  of  it.  She  only  rejoiced  that  Roland 
had  grown  so  much  during  her  absence. 
She  told  Eric  that  she  had  met  at  the  Baths 
a  most  aristocratic  and  amiable  ]ady,  a 
relation  of  his  mother,  who  had  spoken 
of  her  with  great  enthusiasm. 

The  very  first  evening  after  the  return  of 
Sonnenkamp  and  his  family,  a  carriage  drove 
up  in  which  were  Bella  and  Clodwig.  Eric 
was  delighted  to  greet  his  friends,  but  was 
somewhat  shy  of  Bella. 

"  We  have  come  to  protect  you  from  this 
savage,1'  she  whispered  to  him  behind  her 
fan;  "  we  will  show  him  that  you  belong 
to  us.  And  now  you  will  leave  everything 
and  come  to  us,  will  you  not  ?  " 

The  words  thrilled  Eric ;  he  could  only 
bow  his  thanks. 

Bella  observed  her  husband's  embarrass- 
ment as  he  stood  with  Sonnenkamp.  His 
fine  and  sensitive  nature  could  never  over- 
come a  feeling  of  timidity,  of  terror,  when- 
ever he  found  himself  confronted  with  this 
herculean  shape.  Bella  helped  him  out  of 
the  difficulty  by  saying  jestingly,  "Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  you  must  have  seen  many 
strange  things  in  your  life ;  did  you  ever 
happen  to  fall  in  with  thieves  who  openly 
confessed  they  had  stolen, or  were  proposing 
to  steal ? " 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  her  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  We  are  such  thieves,  in  broad  day- 
light,'1 she  cried,  laughing,  and  turning  to 
her  husband  she  continued  :  — 

"  Now  do  you  speak,  dear  Clodwig." 

Clodwig  hesitatingly  expressed  his  wish  to 
have  Eric  live  with  him.  Sonnenkamp's 
sharp  glance  fell  upon  Bella.  The  fore- 
finger of  his  left  hand  was  already  raised 
in  playful  menace  against  her,  and  he  was 
on  the  point  of  saying,  "I  understand  you," 


when  he  checked  himself,  and,  laying  his 
finger  on  his  lips,  said :  — 

"I  am  glad  to  see  that  our  Herr  Eric  " 
—  with  a  peculiar  emphasis  on  the  word 
"our11  —  "that  our  Herr  Eric  stands  so 
high  in  y*r  good  graces." 

Erie  wai  struck  by  the  peculiar  stress 
laid  upon  "he  word  "  our."  He  seemed  to 
have  become  a  piece  of  "property.  Still 
more  surprised  was  he  at  Sonnenkamp's 
offering  him  his  hand  the  next  moment  and 
saying :  — 

"  You  remain  ours,  do  you  not?  " 

Eric  bowed. 

Bella  dwelt,  with  intentional  emphasis, 
upon  the  particulars  of  her  visit  to  Eric's 
mother  in  the  University-town.  She  evi- 
dently desired  to  let  Herr  "Sonnenkamp  know 
that  a  man  of  Eric's  rank  and  position  was 
not  to  be  crushed  on  account  of  a  trifling 
act  of  neglect.  Sonnenkamp  whistled  to 
himself  inaudibly,  as  if  some  plan  were 
ripening  in  him. 

Bella  contrived ,  again  to  be  alone  with 
Eric,  and  expressed  to  him  her  satisfaction 
at  the  success  of  her  little  plot.  She  knew, 
she  said,  that  Sonnenkamp  would  not  let 
him  go,  but  she  also  knew  that  he  would 
humble  him  on  account  of  the  neglect  he 
had  been  guilty  of,  and  therefore  persuaded 
Clodwig  to  drive  over  at  once.  Eric  was 
full  of  gratitude. 

"Did  you  notice,"  she  asked  in  a  low 
voice,  "what  a  look  Herr  Sonnenkamp  gave 
me,  and  how  he  raised  his  finger  at  me  ? 
This  man  imagines  that  our  friendship  is 
something  more  than  friendship ;  to  the 
impure  nothing  is  pure.  I  think  you  will 
not  misunderstand  me,  if  I  sometimes  inten- 
tionally slight  you  in  the  presence  of  this 
spying  knave."  . 

She  gave  Eric  her  hand,  and  held  his  long 
and  tightly  pressed.  Neither  suspected 
that  from  behind  a  bush  two  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  them,  and  a  sharp  ear  heard 
their  every  word.  When  they  had  passed 
on,  Sonnenkamp  drew  a  deep  breath  as  a 
relief  from  the  long  constraint  he  had  put 
upon  himself. 

CHAPTER  II. 
AN  INALIENABLE  POSSESSION. 

The  next  morning  came  the  tidings  that 
the  groom  whom  Sonnenkamp  had  dismissed 
shortly  before  his  journey,  suspecting  him 
of  being  a  spy  of  Pranken's,  had  been 
arrested  in  the  capital  in  the  very  act  of 
offering  for  sale  a  large  silver  goblet.  Ro- 
land brought  the  news  to  Eric,  and  this  was 
only  one  of  the  many  interruptions  liable 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


207 


at  any  moment  to  break  in  upon  the  hours  of 
study  and  thought,  in  consequence  of  this  rob- 
bery. Of  what  use  were  lessons  when  the  mind 
was  thus  excited  ?  What  lasting  impression 
could  be  made  ?  At  one  time  Eric  thought 
of  going  hunting  more  frequently  with  Ro- 
land, in  order  to  amuse  him  and  let  him 
gain  fresh  elasticity  and  powers  of  obser- 
vation by  the  pursuit  of  new  objects.  But 
he  finally  decided  on  the  opposite  course, 
that  of  helping  his  pupil  not  by  amusement,, 
but  by  closer  application  to  his  studies. 
Great  was  his  satisfaction,  therefore,  at  hav- 
ing Roland  say  to  him,  — 

"  Let  us  forget  all  else  and  quietly  go  on 
with  our  work.1' 

The  boy's  love  of  study  had  received  an 
impulse  which  made  every  interruption  dis- 
tasteful to  him,  and  led  him  to  look  for  his 
best  pleasures  in  his  books. 

Roland  soon  became  conscious  of  a  fresh 
energy  in  Eric,  without  being  able  to  con- 
jecture its  cause  ;  it  was  the  exaltation  that 
follows  a  danger  escaped,  escaped  by  one's 
own  effort.  Whenever  Eric  thought  of  the 
days  at  Wolfsgarten,  and  his  trilling  with 
those  feelings  which  should  be  the  finest  of 
the  human  heart,  he  seemed  to  himself  a 
thief.  He  had  recklessly  staked  the  entire 
capital  which  he  had  so  laboriously  won ; 
he  had  allowed  himself,  under  a  pretended 
interchange  of  noble  thoughts,  to  toy  with 
Bella  :  to  liirt,  as  he  called  it  in  plain  lan- 
guage, with  Clodwig's  wife.  To  his  mind, 
he  had  violated  a  sanctuary  ;  how  small,  how 
infinitely  small  in  comparison,  seemed  the 
offence  of  these  poor  people !  He  felt 
deeply  humbled  in  his  own  eyes.  How 
gladly  would  he  have  made  a  pilgrimage 
with  Roland  to  some  temple  where  he  could 
purify  himself,  and  where  Roland  could  gain 
new  strength  !    Whither  should  he  turn  ? 

It  is  easier  for  one  wearied  in  the  excit- 
ing race  of  life,  and  burdened  in  conscience, 
to  enter  into  the  invisible  temple  built  with 
hands  than  into  the  visible  temple  of  sci- 
ence;  yet  Eric  succeeded  in  doing  this. 
What  he  would  with  difficulty  have  accom- 
plished for  himself,  perhaps  would  have 
failed  to  accomplish,  he  did  from  duty  to 
another.  He  lost  himself  in  the  love  of 
knowledge,  and  everything  became  clearer 
and  more  intelligible.  As  an  experienced 
swimmer  delights  in  the  onward  rush  of 
the  waves,  dives  below  the  surface  to  rise 
again  to  the  light,  and  with  vigorous  arms 
divides  the  waters  ;  so  Eric  plunged  into 
,  science,  and  felt  his  heart  swell  with  joy 
when  the  mighty  waves  roared  towards  him. 
Gone  were  all  petty  fears  and  anxieties,  all 
self-contest. 

In  Roland,  too,    deep   currents  were 


stirred.  He  often  went  about  as  in  a 
dream.  The  ground  beneath  him,  which  he 
now  knew  to  be  in  constant  motion,  swam 
before  his  eyes  :  the  heavens  were  no  longer 
there ;  the  old  world  was  dissolved  and  a 
new  one  revealed ;  while  mingling  with  all 
this  new  life  within  him  was  the  thought 
that  all  private  property  would  be  abolished, 
and  poverty  and  riches  divided  equally 
among  men.  Eric  observed  this  excitement 
in  the  mind  of  his  pupil.  Roland  said  to 
him  one  day  timidly,  — 

"  Tell  me,  Eric,  if  there  will  ever  come 
to  be  no  more  private  property  in  the  world, 
and  consequently  no  more  thieves." 

Eric  was  startled  to  see  how  this  strange 
idea  had  taken  hold  of  the  boy.  He  ex- 
plained that  he  had  only  brought  that  up  as 
an  illustration ;  the  thing  itself  was  an  im- 
possibility ;  he  had  only  meant  to  show 
what  a  radical  change  might  be  worked  in 
the  minds  and  lives  of  men. 

Fresh  evidences  of  this  unaccountable 
tendency  of  the  boy's  thoughts  were  con- 
stantly appearing.  One  day  he  asked  Eric 
to  go  with  him  to  the  huntsman's,  to  see 
how  his  wife  and  children  were  faring.  He 
said  he  had  met  the  man's  son,  a  cooper  in 
the  service  of  the  Wine-count,  a  little  while 
ago,  and  had  offered  to  shake  hands  with 
him,  telling  him  the  son  was  not  to  blame 
for  what  the  father  had  done,  even  if  he 
had  done  anything  wrong,  which  he  cer- 
tainly had  not ;  but  that  the  cooper  had 
stared  at  him,  and  instead  of  taking  his  of- 
fered hand,  had  drawn  his  hammer  from  his 
leather  apron,  swung  it  back  and  forth  for  a 
while,  and  finally  walked  off. 

When  Eric  and  Roland  approached  the 
huntsman's  house,  the  birds  in  the  cages 
were  singing,  busiest  among  them  the 
blackbird,  with  his  incessant  chirp  of  thanks- 
giving, and  the  dogs  were  bounding  merrily. 
The  wife  looked  ill  and  slatternly,  and  was 
full  of  complaints.  She  told  how  she  had 
wanted  to  let  all  the  birds  out  after  her  hus- 
band was  taken  to  prison,  but  her  son,  the 
cooper,  insisted  on  everything  being  left  as 
it  was  till  his  father  came  back,  which  was 
sure  to  be  very  soon ;  Sevenpiper  had  in 
the  mean  while  undertaken  V>  do  part  of  her 
husband's  work,  and  the  cooper  attended  to 
the  night  duties,  though  he  had  to  work  so 
hard  through  the  day.  Everything  should 
be  done  properly,  that  the  place  might  be 
kept  open  for  her  husband. 

Eric  offered  her  a  sum  of  money,  which 
she  refused,  saying  that  her  son,  the  cooper, 
had  forbidden  her  to  accept  anything  from 
Sonnenkamp's  family. 

"  If  this  man  is  innocent,  as  I  believe  he 
is,"  said  Roland,  when  they  were  in  the  villa 


208 


TELE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


again,  *'  what  can  make  up  to  him  for  all 
the  anxiety  and  distress  he  has  had  to 
suffer  ?  " 

Eric  had  no  satisfactory  answer  to  give  ; 
he  could  only  say  that  this  was  another 
proof  of  the  fact  that  the  best  things  in  life 
could  not  be  supplied  by  money. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  NEW  ALLIES,  AND  A  SUMMER  FETE. 

Hardly  two  weeks  had  gone  by  before 
the  lessons  were  interrupted  again.  Frau 
Ceres,  who  was  generally  very  quiet  and 
took  no  interest  in  anything,  often  referred 
to  a  promise  she  had  made  to  take  Roland 
to  see  the  Cabinetsrathin,  (wife  of  the  cab- 
inet-minister), whose  acquaintance  she  had 
formed  at  the  Baths. 

A  grand  excursion  to  the  capital  was  de- 
cided upon,  which  Eric  alone  was  not  invited 
to  join.  The  party  set  out  in  two  carriages. 
Frau  Ceres,  Fräulein  Perini,  and  Roland  in 
one,  and  Sonnenkamp  and  Pranken  in  the 
other. 

Pranken  began  at  once  to  express  his  sat- 
isfaction at  the  friendly  interest  Sonnen- 
kamp had  shown  in  the  Church ;  he  had  on 
his  side  already  put  things  in  such  a  train 
that  they  could  count  upon  the  co-operation 
of  the  higher  clergy,  who  were  very  influ- 
ential at  Court,  in  carrying  out  their  plan. 
He  felt  some  compunctions  at  profiting  by 
his  frequent  and  intimate  intercourse  with 
the  Prince-cardinal,  as  a  piece  *of  diplomacy  ; 
but  he  was  vain  enough  to  wish  to  pass  off 
upon  the  world  in  general  and  Sonnenkamp 
in  particular,  as  a  stroke  of  worldly  wisdom, 
the  inward  illumination  which  he  secretly 
gloried  in.  1  He  rejoiced  at  the  relation 
thus  easily  established  with  the  Cabinets- 
rathin, upon  whom  outside  pressure  could 
be  brought  to  bear  in  a  way  hardly  possible 
with  her  husband. 

As  they  drove  by  a  handsome  villa,  whose 
shutters  were  all  barred,  Pranken  suggested 
that  Herr  Sonnenkamp  should  buy  it  in  order 
to  sell  it  again  at  a  low  price  to  the  Cabinets- 
rathin, who,  as  he  knew,  had  long  cherished 
a  strong  desire  for  such  a  residence.  Son- 
nenkamp consented,  on  the  condition  that  it 
would  accomplish  his  object.  It  would  be 
one  of  the  levers,  Pranken  assured  him, 
though  not  the  only  one. 

Although  the  two  were  alone  together, 
neither  of  them,  singularly  enough,  men- 
tioned their  plan  by  name,  till  Sonnenkamp 
said  that  the  Cabinetsrathin  had  told  him  a 
title  of  nobility  was  to  be  conferred  on  the 
wine-merchant,  and  that  he  wished  he  might 
get  one  first ;  for  he  thought  he  had  a  bet- 


ter right  to  the  distinction,  though  he  was 
not  going  to  marry  his  daughter  to  a  dying 
man,  but  rather  to  the  freshest  and  liveliest 
of  noblemen. 

Pranken  smiled  his  thanks,  but  replied  that 
this  priority  of  the  Wine-count,  —  it  could 
hardly  be  called  precedence —  was  rather  ad- 
vantageous than  otherwise,  as  it  made  the 
conferring  of  titles  appear  not  so  much  a 
matter  of  private  negotiation. 

"  Your  difficulties  are  greater  than  those 
of  the  Wine-coünt,"  he  added:  "for  the 
Prince-cardinal  stave*!  in  his  house  on  his 
last  circuit,  so  that  the  Wine-count  has  on 
his  side  the  church  party,  which  is  as  dis- 
creet as  it  is  powerful,  while  you,  I  would 
say  we,  have  no  party.  So  much  the  bet- 
ter ;  the  victory  will  be  all  our  own.1' 

They  reached  the  capital. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  was  delighted,  and 
expressed  to  Pranken,  whom  she  constantly 
treated  as  the  head,  in  fact  the  president  of 
the  party,  her  great  pleasure  that  a  water- 
ing-place acquaintance  should  have  ripened 
into  a  new  friendship. 

Pranken  insinuatingly  remarked  that  they 
might  become  neighbors  too. 

The  country-house  was  glowingly  de- 
scribed, and  the  fact  cautiously  yet  emphat- 
ically stated,  that  Sonnenkamp  had  already 
bought  the  place  for  the  sake  of  inducing 
some  noble  friends  to  settle  there  by  letting 
them  have  it  at  a  moderate  sum. 

The  lady  was  delighted ;  she  knew  the 
house  very  well,  it  having  once  belonged  to 
friends  of  hers  whom  she  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  there.  She  quite  envied 
the  people  who  should  live  in  such  a  home 
and  have  such  noble  neighbors.  She  had 
told  her  husband,  she  said,  that  it  was  a  dis- 
grace to  the  State  that  such  a  man  as  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  should  have  no  title. 

Having  thus  prepared  the  way,  Pranken 
disclosed  his  plan  to  the  Cabinetsrathin,  who 
assured  him  it  could  not  but  be  a  most  de- 
sirable thing  for  society,  to  have  a  man  of 
Herr  Sonnenkamp's  importance  admitted  to 
a  higher  rank.  Sonnenkamp  assumed  an 
air  of  great  shyness  and  modesty.  A  maid- 
en receiving  her  first  offer,  which  she  was 
quite  prepared  for,  could  not  have  looked 
more  bashfully  on  the  ground ;  he  actually 
blushed. 

They  drew  their  chairs  nearer  together, 
as  if  now  for  the  first  time  a  right  friendly 
and  confidential  intercourse  was  established 
among  them.  The  lady  begged  that  noth- 
ing might  be  said  to  her  husband  upon  the 
matter  at  present ;  she  would  manage  that 
part  herself ;  but  it  would  be  a  good  plan 
to  set  some  other  influence  at  work ;  if 
Count  Wolfsgarten,  for  instance,  would  start 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


209 


the  subject  at  court,  it  would  be  easy  to  play 
into  his  hands. 

Pranken  laid  great  stress  upon  the  cor- 
dial friendship  that  existed  between  Clod- 
wig  and  Sonnenkamp,  but  urged  that  a  mat- 
ter of  this  kind  needed  to  be  handled  with 
the  greatest  delicacy,  such  as  only  a  lady  of 
the  Cabinetsrathin's  acknowledged  tact 
was  capable  of. 

Sonnenkamp  declared  that  he  did  not  ask 
for  a  title ;  it  must  be  offered  him ;  his 
friends  must  see  to  that.  He  rejoiced  in 
the  delicacy  with  which  the  Cabinetsr'ath- 
in  handled  the  matter,  and  he  handled 
it  in  like  manner  ;  his  whole  demeanor  said, 
This  is  something  quite  out  of  the  common 
course. 

He  moved  his  hand  quietly,  as  if  he  were 
stroking  the  back  of  a  very  soft  cat. 

"  Are  there  vineyards  attached  to  this 
country-house  ?  "  suddenly  asked  the  lady. 

"  To  the  best  of  my  knowledge,"  answered 
Pranken,  ' '  there  are  three  acres  most  favor- 
ably situated." 

He  winked  at  Sonnenkamp,  as  much  as  to 
say  that  these  must  of  course  be  purchased 
also. 

Sonnenkamp  at  once  lost  his  character  of 
modesty  and  bashfulness  ;  here  was  a  ques- 
tion of  money ;  here  he  was  master,  He 
wanted  to  tell  the  lady  that  he  could  not 
deal  in  any  other  than  a  business-like  man- 
ner ;  when  he  had  fairly  got  his  patent  of 
nobility  she  should  take  possession  of  the 
country-house  and  vineyards  besides  ;  but 
he  was  afraid  to  say  it  before  Pranken,  and 
besides  it  seemed  hardly  necessary  to  come 
out  with  it  just  yet.  When  it  came  to  the 
point,  he  would  be  man  enough  not  to  allow 
himself  to  be  cheated.  There  was  a  trium- 
phant smile  upon  his  face. 

The  Cabinetsrath  entered,  saluted  Son- 
nenkamp with  formal  politeness,  and  ex- 
pressed his  thanks  for  the  courtesies  shown 
his  wife  at  Vichy. 

The  party  went  into  the  hall,  where  were 
Roland  and  the  son  of  the  house,  a  cadet. 
Roland's  beauty  immediately  attracted  all 
eyes,  and  made  him  the  centre  of  the  group. 
The  Cabinetsrath  congratulated  him  on  hav- 
ing for  a  tutor  such  a  finished  scholar  as 
Eric,  although  he  was  somewhat  eccentric 
in  his  theories,  and  as  Roland  answered  some 
question  that  were  addressed  to  him  by  say- 
ing he  should  like  to  be  an  officer,  advised 
him  to  enter  the  school  of  cadets  as  soon  as 
possible. 

Pranken  said  in  an  aside  to  the  Cabinets- 
räthin  that  he  entirely  approved  of  Herr 
Sonenkamp1s  plan  not  to  let  Roland  enter 
the  school  till  he  had  received  a  title,  thus 
sparing  him  many  embarrassments  ;  for  if  the 


boy  were  suddenly  admitted  to  the  nobility 
while  in  the  school,  there  would  be  no  end 
to  the  jokes  he  would  have  to  endure  from 
his  companions. 

The  Cabinetsrath  spoke  of  the  rebuilding 
of  the  ruins,  of  Sonnenkamp's  well-known 
skill  in  horticulture,  and  of  the  complimen- 
tary manner  in  which  he  had  often  heard 
them  spoken  of  in  the  highest  circles. 

Sonnenkamp  craved  permission  to  send 
some  of  his  products  occasionally  to  the 
royal  table,  especially  his  beautiful  bananas, 
which  were  now  particularly  fine.  Pranken 
thought  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  success  in  grape 
culture  the  most  remarkable,  for  he  man- 
aged to  have  fresh  grapes  upon  his  table 
every  month  in  the  year. 

The  Cabinetsrath  replied  that  this  court- 
esy would  no  doubt  be  very  acceptable, 
bnt  he  had  no  authority  to  speak  in  the  mat- 
ter. The  Marshal,  who  was  a  cousin  of 
Herr  von  Pranken,  would  unquestionably 
accept  the  offer. 

Pranken  at  once  took  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
to  see  the  Marshal,  while  Roland  rode  out 
with  the  cadet.  Frau  Ceres  remained  with 
the  Cabinetsrathin,  and  apparently  caused 
that  lady  great  surprise  by  urging  her  to  ac- 
cept the  coral  necklace  which  she  wore  upon 
her  neck,  and  which  her  friend  had  so  much 
admired. 

The  lady  was  obliged  to  accept  it,  but 
begged  Frau  Ceres  to  consider  it  as  a  to- 
ken of  the  intimacy  of  their  private  friend- 
ship, and  not  to  mention  the  gift  to  any  one 
else.  She  repeatedly  declared  that  she  used 
her  interest  for  her  friends  without  the  least 
motive  of  selfishness.  She  laid  great  stress 
upon  this  point,  being  convinced  that  Frau 
Ceres  was  a  party  in  the  plan  for  gaining  her 
by  presents. 

Frau  Ceres  looked  at  her  in  amazement, 
and  thought  herself  again  horribly  stupid ; 
•the  woman  was  speaking  ofthings  of  which 
she  knew  nothing. 

The  party  had  not  proposed  to  spend  the 
night  in  the  capital,  but  on  the  minister's 
wife  proposing  an  excursion  to  some  pleas- 
ure-grounds, Pranken  insisted  on  their  re- 
maining till  the  next  day.  It  would  be  a 
great  advantage  to  have  the  two  open  car- 
riages, with  Frau  Ceres  and  the  Cabinets- 
rathin in  one,  and  Sonnenkamp,  Pranken, 
and  the  Cabinetsrath  in  the  other,  drive 
through  the  streets  of  the  capital  to  these 
pleasure-grounds,  where  the  best  and  most 
select  society  would  be  assembled.  The 
best  society  should  see  that  Sonnenkamp 
was  already  admitted  to  close  intimacy  with 
Count  Pranken  and  the  Cabinetsrath. 

On  the  way  the  Cabinetsrathin  was  seized 
with  an  idea  as  amiable  as  it  was  wise. 


210 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Both  these  merits  delighted  her,  and  not  less 
her  own  good-nature.  She  should  win  an 
ally  and  help  a  poor  woman.  With  great 
condescension  and  pity,  she  spoke  of  Eric's 
mother,  who  had  with  a  foolish  enthu- 
siasm sacrificed  her  position  to  a  so-called 
ideal  love.  'Here  the  Cabinetsrathin  looked 
towards  Pranken,  between  whom  and  her- 
self so  close  a  league  was  already  established 
.  that  she  did  nothing  without  his  approval. 
A  searcely.perceptible  nod  from  him  showing 
her  that  she  might  continue,  she  appealed 
to  Herr  Sonnenkamp  to  do  something  for 
Eric's  mother ;  if  possible,  even  to  receive 
her  into  his  house.  AuntClaudine  also  was 
spoken  of  in  terms  of  the  highest  praise. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  imagined  that  her 
relations  with  the  Sonnenkamp  household 
would  be  much  more  easily  maintained,  if 
the  Professors  widow  and  the  aunt  formed 
a  part  of  it;  then  her  intercourse  would  be 
in  a  manner  with  them,  and  not  with  this 
man.  In  tact  it  would  be  her  duty  to  see 
as  much  as  possible  of  these  noble  women, 
in  order  to  soften  their  position  of  depend- 
ence ;  and  that  advantage,  with  many  others, 
would  be  easily  secured  when  she  had  es- 
tablished herself  in  that  country-house, 
which  of  course  had  several  acres  of  vine- 
yard attached  to  it. 

Thus  there  was  a  mingling  of  motives, 
with  a  good  an'd  animating  result. 

Sonnenkamp  smiled  blandly,  but  all  the 
while  was  saying  to  himself,  —  These  nobles 
hold  together  more  closely  than  a  band  of 
thieves  ;  in  fact  they  are  thieves,  for  all  this 
impoverished  nobility  wants  to  bolster  itself 
up  by  me. 

He  acceded  politely  to  the  lady's  propo- 
sition, with  the  inward  reservation,  You 
have  not  that  estate  yet,  and  the  Profes- 
sor's widow  may  sit  for  a  while  longer  at 
her  sewing-machine. 

They  drove  by  the  country-seat  of  the 
Prince,  who  had  lately  returned  from  Amer- 
ica. Here  everything  was  in  perfect  order, 
and  a  table,  with  servants  in  attendance, 
was  spread  in  a  long,  narrow  pavilion 
erected  in  a  grove  by  the  roadside.  The 
sound  of  military  music  came  from  a  public 
garden,  and  the  trees  were  hung  with  bright- 
colored  lamps.  The  officers  of  the  Guard 
were  holding  a  summer- fete  here.  Bands 
of  music  followed  each  other  in  quick  suc- 
cession, one  beginning  to  play  the  moment 
the  other  ceased.  The  officers  were  already 
seated  at  a  table  spread  under  a  great  tent 
in  the  middle  of  the  public  garden  ;  while  at 
smaller  tables  near  by  sat  the  dignitaries  of 
the  capital,  with  their  wives  and  daughters, 
in  gay  summer  dresses. 

The  two  carriages   drawn  by  Sonnen- 


kamp's  noble  horses  attracted  great  atten- 
tion. ^  Pranken  quickly  gave  the  necessary 
directions,  and  established  his  party  at  one 
of  the  best  tables,  towards  which  many  eye- 
glasses were  instantly  directed.  Pranken, 
after  speaking  with  his  comrades  and  shak- 
ing hands  with  one  and  another,  soon  re- 
turned to  Sonnenkamp  and  his  party. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  leaned  in  the  most 
friendly  way  on  Sonnenkamp's  arm ;  Pran- 
ken escorted  Frau  Ceres ;  Roland  and  the 
cadet  shot  arrows  at  a  target,  Roland  always 
hitting  the  bull's  eye. 

Sonnenkamp  was  introduced  to  the  Gen- 
eral, and  received  from  him  a  promise  soon 
to  visit  Villa  Eden.  Pranken  was  glad  to 
be  able  to  show  a  new  recruit  in  the  person 
of  Roland. 

As  evening  came  on,  the  bright-colored 
lamps  were  lighted.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
firing  of  cannon,  a  beating  of  drums,  and  a 
shouting  of  huzzas,  in  h©nor  of  the  arrival 
of  the  Prince  from  his  estate  to  grace  the 
banquet  of  the  officers.  Both  bands  struck 
up,  "Hail  to  the  Chief,"  and  all  was  re- 
joicing. Happiest  of  the  whole  company, 
perhaps,  was  Sonnenkamp,  who  had  been 
presented  to  the  Prince  and  received  a  few 
commonplace  words  from  him.  Though 
the  words  were  nothing,  the  world  had  seen 
the  Prince  speak  with  him  and  give  him  a 
friendly  greeting. 

They  drove  back  to  the  capital  in  a  high 
state  of  delight.  The  colored  lamps  kept 
shining  and  the  music  sounding. 

The  next  morning  it  was  announced  in 
the  papers  :  — 

"  Yesterday  evening  the  cuirassiers  of  the 
guard  celebrated  their  annual  festival  on 
Rudolph's  Hill.  His  Highness,  Prince  Leon- 
hard,  graced  the  entertainment  with  his 
presence.  Among  the  guests  was  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  of  Villa  Eden,  with  his  highly- 
respected  family." 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  PLACE  IS  TAKEN. 

While  the  Sonnenkamp  family  was  at  the 
capital,  Eric  rode  to  Wolfsgarten.  He 
had  fought  down  every  traitorous,  unholy 
thought  within  him,  or  rather  had  prevented 
such  from  rising,  and  thought  only  of  the 
obligation  that  rested  on  him  to  show  his 
appreciation  of  the  noble  friendship  which 
Bella  had  certainly  manifested  towards  him, 
by  speaking  to  her  of  the  excellence  and 
truly  admirable  elevation  of  her  husband's 
character.  That -was  his  sole  purpose,  and 
with  a  clear  and  happy  spirit  he  rode  on  his 
way. 

He  found  Clodwig  alone,  Bella  having 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


211 


driven  out  to  make  a  visit.  Clodwig  was 
glad  to  have  Eric  for  once  all  to  himself ;  in 
former  visits  he  had  too  often  had  to  amuse 
himself  with  the  boy,  while  Eric  walked 
with  Bella.  Clodwig  told  of  the  son  of  a 
friend  of  his,  the  Russian  Ambassador  at 
Naples,  who  had  come  to  pursue  under  his 
guidance  the  study  of  husbandry  in  Ger- 
many. The  fact  of  the  abolition  of  serfdom 
by  the  Emperor  of  Russia  was  producing  a 
great  moral  and  economic  effect.  The 
landowners  would  have  to  increase  their  own 
resources,  as  well  as  those  of  the  soil ;  from 
mere  landowners  they  must  become  hus- 
bandmen. The  young  Prince,  like  most 
other  princes,  had  been  a  little  wild  in 
Paris,  but  there  were  the  germs  of  good  in 
him,  and  a  power  of  will  which  encouraged 
the  most  favorable  hopes.  A  sort  of  sacred 
zeal  for  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  to  the 
lower  classes  was  not  uncommon  among  the 
Russians,  and  often  took  such  strong  pos- 
session of  the  gay  and  dissipated  as  to  re- 
call the  conversion  of  those  saints  we  are 
told  of,  who,  from  the  wildest  debauchees, 
have  suddenly  been  made  conscious  of  their 
moral  responsibilities. 

"But  be  on  your  guard,'1  he  said,  as  if 
instructing  Eric.  "  No  aristocracy  in  the 
world  is  so  eager  for  knowledge  as  that  of 
Russia ;  but  unhappily  their  zeal  and  aspir- 
ations run  themselves  out  in  a  year  or  two, 
and  they  easily  fall  back  into  lazy  indiffer- 
ence. They  have  a  great  talent  for  imita- 
tion, but  how  persevering  it  will  be,  or 
whether  they  can  produce  anything  new, 
remains  to  be  proved.  Perhaps  this  free- 
ing of  the  serfs  is  a  great  moral  turning- 
point.1' 

Eric  thought  it  a  glorious  proof  of  the 
free  spirit  of  the  age,  that  this  enfranchise- 
ment was  the  work  not  of  the  clergy,  whose 
office  it  might  seem  peculiarly  to  be,  but  of 
pure  and  simple  humanity,  having  no  eccle- 
siastical stamp. 

"That  idea  had  not  occurred  to  me," 
answered  Clodwig,  expressing  his  gratitude 
in  word  and  tone. 

The  two  men  were  still  engaged  in  far- 
reaching  discussions  concerning  the  power 
of  the  spirit,  and  Clodwig  was  just  express- 
ing his  pain  at  the  power  which  brute  force 
exercises,  over  the  spirit,  so  much  greater 
than  man  is  willing  to  acknowledge  to  him- 
self, Avhen  Bella  entered.  Her  face  glowed 
as  she  greeted  Eric;  and  her  companion,  an 
elegant  but  rather  blase-looking  young  man, 
gave  him  a  gracious  salutation.  He  was 
glad,  he  said,  that  Eric  spoke  French  so 
fluently,  for  his  own  German  was  very 
clumsy  ;  and  he  added  that  Eric's  French 
descent  was  apparent  in  his  accent,  which 


was  such  as  only  a  French  tongue  was  capa- 
ble of. 

After  separating  for  a  short  time,  the 
party  reassembled  for  a  second  breakfast 
in  the  room  opening  on  the  garden. 

Clodwig  must  have  strongly  impressed 
upon  the  Russian  the  advantages  he  would 
derive  from  intercourse  with  Eric,  for  the 
young  man  addressed  him  at  once  by  say- 
ing, "  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  would 
let  me  learn  something  from  you." 

He  said  it  so  confidingly,  and  with  so 
much  of  a  child's  submission,  that  Eric  gave 
him  his  hand,  saying,  — 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  able  to  learn  some- 
thing from  you  too." 

"Except  whist,  which  everyone  says  I 
play  exceedingly  well,  I  am  afraid  there  is 
nothing  to  be  learned  from  me,"  laughed 
the  Russian. 

Then,  as  a  man  who  at  once  looks  to  the 
producers  for  a  knowledge  of  the  products 
of  a  country,  he  said,  — 

"  I  hear  that  philosophy  has  gone  out  of 
fashion  in  Germany ;  can  you  tell  me  any 
reason  for  the  fact  ?  " 

Clodwig  nodded;  the  topic  was  well 
chosen,  and  the  question  modestly  put. 

Eric  suggested  as  his  opinion,  without 
having  any  definite  information  to  give  on 
the  subject,  that  perhaps  philosophy  was 
regarded  less  as  a  separate  science,  and  had 
become  the  groundwork  of  all  the  sciences. 

"Are  you  of  opinion,"  asked  the  Prince, 
"  that  the  categorical  imperative  of  Kant,  and 
the  French  Revolution,  have  tended  to  the 
same  results  ?  " 

Bella  laid  back  her  head,  and  looked  up 
into  the  blue  sky.  The  men  were  entering 
upon  themes  which,  in  deference  to  her, 
ought  to  be  postponed  to  another  time,  but 
she  would  be  patient  and  listen. 

Eric  explained  that  the  principle  of  Kant, 
"  So  act  that  you  can  wish  the  rule  of  your 
actions  to  be  the  rule  of  all  human  actions," 
established  the  same  ideal  as  the  French 
Revolution,  with  its  equality  before  the  law  ; 
there  are  to  be  no  more  privileged  classes. 
•  "  But  does  not  this  equality  destroy  all 
greatness,  all  genius  ?  "  asked  the  Russian. 

Bella  thought  this  a  good  opportunity  for 
breaking  her  silence,  and  quickly  choosing 
her  side,  she  added  :  — 

"I  would  go  further,  and  ask  if  richly 
endowed  natures  do  not  make  new  laws  in 
the  intellectual  and  political  world,  as  well 
as  the  aesthetic.11 

Clodwig  smiled  to  hear  his  wife  thus  trot- 
ting out  her  hobby-horse,  but  Eric  answered, 
smilingly,  —  "  That  is  the  miserable  mistake 
for  which  Jesuitism  in  the  Church,  and  fri- 
volity in  the  world,  are  equally  answerable. 


212 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OK  THE  RHINE. 


Peculiar  natures  have  been  granted  by  the 
world,  and  have  come  to  claim  for  them- 
selves, certain  exceptional  privileges  and 
immunities,  which,  if  generally  allowed, 
would  be  subversive  of  human  society. 
What  are  called  superior  natures  have 
greater  responsibilities  than  others,  but  no 
exceptional  rights.  Before  God  and  the 
moral  sense  of  humanity,  we  are  all  equal, 
as  Christianity  exhaustively  expresses  in  the 
words,  '  we  are  all  children  of  God.'  Chil- 
dren are  equal  before  their  father.  But  the 
Church  grants  indulgences  ;  the  State,  rights 
of  primogeniture  ;  sophistry,  moral  exemp- 
tions. No  single  man  of  iron  will  come  to 
establish  the  new  kingdom  of  equality  ;  the 
kingdom  is  at  hand  ;  its  road  is  the  iron  rail, 
its  horse  is  the  steam." 

"  You  speak  well ;  it  is  a  great  pleasure 
to  me  to  have  made  your  acquaintance," 
said  the  Prince  to  Eric.  "  I  pray  you  to 
come  often  to  see  me ;  or  will  you  let  me 
come  to  you  ?  " 

Eric,  who,  in  his  excitement,  had  said 
more  than  he  intended,  expressed  his  thanks, 
saying  at  the  same  time  that  he  must  conse- 
crate his  time  and  strength  to  his  pupil. 
He  was  angry  with  himself  at  thus  speaking 
out  his  whole  heart  on  every  occasion,  in- 
stead of  adopting  the  light  conversational 
tone  of  society.  He  thought  he  knew  what 
the  young  noble  meant  by  his  compliment. 
A  beautiful  way  of  speaking,  indeed  I  A  new 
dish,  a  new  sauce,  new  music,  charming  Ca- 
priccios !  None  but  a  fool  would  expose 
the  treasures  of  his  heart  to  them. 

Eric  was  struck  with  the  expression  of 
Bella's  face;  it  was  set  and  hard.  What 
have  I  done,  she  thought,  that  he  should 
read  me  such  a  lesson  about  no  one  claim- 
ing exemption  from  the  rule  of  morality  ? 
She  was  thoroughly  angry,  and  with  diffi- 
culty forced  a  smile  to  her  face.  She  soon 
controlled  herself,  however,  and  managed 
to  make  the  two  young  men  enter  upon  a 
little  passage  of  arms  before  her. 

The  Prince  had  the  advantage  of  Eric  in 
a  knowledge  of  current  events,  and  in  prac- 
tical experience  of  the  world.  Eric  readily 
granted  the  victory  to  be  on  his  opponent's 
side  in  many  instances. 
As  they  were  walking  in  the  garden,  the 


Prince  leaning  familiarly  on  Eric's  arm,  he 
asked  if  Eric  was  acquainted  with  Herr 
Weidmann,  to  whom  Clodwig  intended  to 
send  him. 

Eric  replied  that  he  had  only  seen  him 
once  or  twice,  but  that  he  was  universally 
esteemed. 

"  If  you  should  happen  to  have  any  friend 
like  yourself,"  said  the  Prince,  pressing 
Eric's  arm  as  he  spoke,  "if  you  should 
know  any  one  whom  you  could  recommend 
to  be  my  guide  and  instructor,  I  could  make 
provision  for  him  for  life,  or — excuse  the 
question  — would  you  yourself  perhaps  —  ?  " 

Eric  declined  the  honor,  but  promised  to 
bear  the  subject  of  an  instructor  in  mind. 

Bella  joined  them,  and  Eric  walked  by 
the  side  of  the  other  two,  his  mind  agitated 
by  a  variety  of  emotions.  He  had  pondered 
so  carefully  on  the  best  way  of  drawing  him- 
self and  Bella  back  from  that  dangerous 
boundary  line  of  friendship,  and  here  his 
pains  had  been  thrown  away,  for  another 
already  occupied  his  place.  His  vanity  was 
secretly  wounded  that  this  man  of  the  world, 
with  his  prettily-dressed  nothings,  should  at 
once  have  become  a  greater  favorite  than  he 
with  his  tiresome  solidities  and  all  his  his- 
torical luggage.  At  heart  he  was  indignant 
at  Bella's  familiarity  with  the  Russian,  and 
a  strange  confusion  of  feeling  arose  within 
him.  Should  he  be  glad  to  think  this  wo- 
man nothing  but  a  coquette,  trifling  now 
with  one  man  and  now  with  another  ?  or  did 
Bella  thus  act  only  to  make  less  marked 
her  intimacy  with  himself,  which  she  desired 
not  to  display  before  others  ? 
^  His  mind  was  harassed  by  opposite  emo- 
tions ;  one  moment  he  was  glad  of  the  les- 
son he  had  received,  for  now  he  could  go 
back  to  his  work  with  an  unburdened  mind  ; 
the  next  he  was  again  angry  with  himself 
for  his  ignorance  of  the  ways  of  polite  soci- 
ety. 

The  Doctor's  arrival  changed  as  usual  the 
current  of  the  conversation.  One  sharp 
glance  embraced  Bella,  Eric,  and  the  Rus- 
sian, and  seemed  to  reveal  to  him  their  re- 
spective positions.  Bella  and  the  Doctor 
always  had  a  little  private  warfare  going  on 
between  them 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


213 


CHAPTER  V. 
A  HARSH  JUDGMENT. 

The  Doctor  desired  Eric  to  tie  his  horse 
to  the  back  of  the  carriage,  and  drive  with 
him  part  way  to  the  villa. 

When  the  two  were  seated  together,  the 
Doctor  began,  after  first  puffing  out  a  long 
breath :  — 

"A  beautiful  woman  is  Countess  Bella, 
and  a  clever.  She  loves  her  parrot,  which, 
'  apparently,  is  allowed  to  fly  at  liberty  in 
the  forest,  but  must  return  obediently  to  his 
mistress's  shoulder." 

"  Permit  me  one  observation,"  interrupted 
Eric.  "I  have  noticed  that  here  in  the 
country,  and  wherever  the  society  is  limited, 
the  conversation  is  apt  to  turn  upon  a  third 
person,  and  generally  —  not  in  your  case, 
perhaps,  but  in  the  case  of  most  persons 
whom  I  have  heard  talk  —  in  a  not  very 
charitable  way.  Do  you  not  consider  this 
a  proof  of  narrowness,  or  whatever  else 
oftbat  nature  you  may  choose  to  call  it?  " 

The  Doctor  perceived  that  Eric  was 
disinclined  to  pursue  this  subject,  but  he 
nevertheless  replied :  — 

"  The  human  race  affords  the  most  abun- 
dant material  for  conversation,  and  of  that 
race  the  most  inexhaustible  matter  is  fur- 
nished by  the  variety  woman.  I  am  not 
meaning  now  to  speak  of  Bella,  but  of  my- 
self. I  have  discovered  in  this  woman  an 
entirely  new  variety." 

"  With  your  permission,  honored  Herr 
Doctor,  the  Countess  seems  to  be  in  perfect 
health." 

"Did  you  never  know  Frau  Bella 'be- 
fore ?  " 

"  But  slightly,"  said  Eric  reluctantly. 

"  I,  however,  knew  her  well.  She  made  a 
marriage  of  convenience,  as  many  others 
have  done,  and  I  think  none  the  worse  of 
her  for  it.  My  opinion  on  such  matters  dif- 
fers from  that  of  most  men.  The  Countess 
is  modest  as  far  as  her  talents  are  concerned, 
but  is  proud  of  her  morality.  I  happen  to 
know  that  she  told  the  Count  before  the  be- 
trothal, that  she  was  too  insignificant  for 
him,  was,  in  fact,  not  worthy  of  him.  In 
regard  to  intellect,  her  modesty  was  sincere, 
though  somewhat  exaggeratedly  expressed. 
She  has  talent,  but  no  soul ;  she  is  all 
seasoning,  no  solid  food.  But  morally  this 
confession  was  perfectly  true  ;  morality  with 
her  is  only  propriety." 

"  I  must  beg  you  —  "  interposed  Eric. 

"And  I  must  beg  you,"  broke  in  the 
Doctor,  "  to  let  me  finish  my  sentence. 
Her  morality  I  mean  is  that  of  the  world, 
which  considers  only  the  outward  marriage 
essential,  and  knows  no  relation  of  mar- 


riage save  a  relation  of  the  outward  tie. 
To  Count  Clodwig,  purity  and  beauty  are  a 
law ;  every  sin  against  them  offends  his  na- 
ture ;  he  could  not  be  guilty  of  the  smallest 
violation  of  them,  even  if  no  mortal  eye 
should  detect  it." 

In  the  pause  which  ensued,  Eric's  heart 
beat  hard.  Was  the  man  describing  Clod- 
wig's  purity,  in  order  to  show  him  how  base 
would  be  the  slightest  approach  to  injuring 
or  betraying  such  a  friend  ? 
"The  Doctor  continued  :  — 
"A  man  can  receive  no  higher  honor 
than  that  of  being  Clodwig' s  friend.  I  do 
not  love  the  aristocracy ;  nay,  I  may  even 
say  I  hate  them;  but  in  this  Count  Clod- 
wig there  is  a  nobleness  which  perhaps  can 
only  come  to  perfection  through  the  foster- 
ing care  of  generations,  and  cannot  be  fully 
developed  among  us  commoners,  where 
everything  is  a  fresh  conquest  smelling  of 
the  new  varnish,  which  is  always  likely  to 
crack  away.  There  is  a  steady,  even  tem- 
perature about  Clodwig,  never  amounting 
to  a  hot  blaze,  but  always  a  beneficent 
warmth.  You  see  I  have  learned  from  you 
to  make  illustrations,"  he  said  playfully, 
then  continued,  more  seriously:  — 

"  His  one  passion  is  for  rest,  which  makes 
it  the  more  remarkable  that  he  should  have 
sacrificed  so  much  of  it  for  your  sake.  I 
do  not  agree  with  the  wicked  world  in  pro- 
nouncing Countess  Bella  to  be  a  very  dragon 
of  virtue.  On  the  contrary,  she  must  have 
every  week,  or  every  month  at  farthest,  some 
fair  name  to  destroy,  or,  better,  some  guilty 
person  to  use  her  cat's  claws  upon ;  like  a 
well-trained  hound,  she  likes  best  to  attack  a 
poor  hare  in  the  eyes  ;  then  she  is  satisfied, 
perfectly  polite  and  obliging,  harming  no- 
body, for  she  is  not  really  cruel  and  pitiless. 
She  speaks  very  kindly  of  any  one  so  long  as 
he  is  unfortunate  ;  when  people  are  humbled 
she  readily  pardons  them ;  as  soon  as  a 
man  is  sick  she  is  most  kindly  disposed 
towards  him,  but  as  long  as  he  keeps  well 
he  need  expect  nothing  but  severity  from 
her.  She  has  beautiful  and  abundant  hair, 
but  that  does  not  please  her  so  much  as  the 
being  able  to  tell  of  this  woman  or  that,  how 
many  pounds  of  false  hair  she  wears.  If" 
she  can  say  that  any  woman  is  scrofulous, 
she  is  quite  happy  ;  for  she  would  have  only 
the  Prankens  perfectly  sound.  Ondte  let  her 
make  an  assertion,  and  she  never  retreats 
from  it;  better  that  her  husband,  Pranken, 
the  whole  world,  should  be  illogical,  than 
that  she  should  be  mistaken.  Bella  von 
Wolfsgarten  never  allows  herself  to  be  mis- 
taken. She  has  never  worn  an  unbecom- 
ing dress,  has  never  said  a  word  which 
might  not  be  engraved  upon  stone.  That 


214 


TUE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


she  calls  character ;  that  she  calls  strength, 
—  never  to  confess  to  a  mistake.  Let  the 
logic  of  the  whole  world  go  to  the  devil  fjirst ! 
She  can  make  the  eggs  dance  nicely  in  con- 
versation. Did  you  ever  receive  one  of  her 
dainty  little  notes  ?  She  can  dance  even 
upon  paper  with  the  most  supple  grace.1' 

Eric  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow ;  he 
no  longer  knew  where  he  was.  The  Doc- 
tor threw  away  a  half-smoked  cigar,  and 
continued :  — 

"  The  wicked  world  hopes,  and,  alas  !  its 
hopes  cannot  be  fulfilled  without  stabbing 
our  noble  Clodwig  to  the  heart,  —  it  hopes 
that  this  dragon  of  virtue  will  one  day  find 
its  unsaintly  George.  But  that  would  have 
to  be  a  man  whose  ambition  is,  as  we  say, 
to  be  successful  with  the  women ;  not  one 
to  whom  the  words  love,  magnanimity,  as- 
piration, are  realities,  and  who  could  not 
use  them  as  a  cloak  for  other  ends." 

Eric  knew  not  what  to  answer.  He 
clenched  his  fist  to  keep  himself  still,  for  he 
felt  himself  trembling. 

The  Doctor  pulled  a  string  which  brought 
the  drag  against  the  wheel ;  the  wagon 
went  creaking  and  scraping  down  the  hill ; 
they  looked  over  the  precipice,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  a  little  brook  was  babbling  over 
rocks.  Such  an  abyss  had  opened  before 
Eric.  When  they  were  driving  again  com- 
fortably through  the  valley,  the  Doctor 
resumed :  — 

"When  I  say  the  wicked  world,  I  am 
not  using  merely  a  figure  of  speech.  I 
must  explain  to  you  what  this  new  variety 
is  that  I  have  discovered  in  Frau  Bella.  It 
is  this.  There  have  been,  and  there  exist 
still,  many  women  who  are,  or  who  imagine 
themselves  to  be,  no  matter  which,  yery 
unhappy,  or  consider  themselves  very  un- 
fortunate because  they  have  such  inferior 
husbands,  —  men  who  love  horses,  dogs,  and 
such  -like,  while  they  themselves  are  lofty, 
unappreciated,  ethereal  souls.  This  new 
variety,  however,  which  Frau  Bella  repre- 
sents, is  different?  She  is  unhappy  because 
of  the  greatness  of  her  husband.  Had  she 
one  of  those  well-trained  puppets  which  are 
in  the  world  for  the  purpose  of  wearing  a 
court-dress,  she  might,  be  unhappy,  but 
loftily  so  ;  she  could  look  upon  herself  as  a 
fair  flower-crowned  victim,  suffer  with  pa- 
tience, bewail  her  fate,  be  on  a  pinnacle 
in  fact,  a  being  ever  debarred  from  the  no- 
blest emotions  of  the  heart.  But  by  the 
side  of  the  husband  she  has,  she  grows  con- 
stantly more  odious,  more  insignificant. 
He  humiliates  her  by  casting  her  into  the 
shade ;  nay,  more :  by  condemning  her  im- 
mature ideas  only  by  a  raising  of  his  eye- 
brows.   In  fact,  —  she  does  not,  I  think, 


acknowledge  it  to  herself,  —  she  hates  her 
husband  for  making  solemn  earnest  of  her 
light  trifling  with  intellectual  and  moral 
things ;  he  compels  her  to  acknowledge 
mistakes  and  follies,  and  severely  enough  is 
he  punished  for  doing  so.  I  understand 
now  the  fable  of  the  Harpies.  The  modern 
harpies  besmear  every  noble  thought  till  it 
becomes  unpalatable  and  nauseous ;  and 
thus  must  Clodwig  wrestle  and  fight  for  the 
common  daily  bread  of  the  spirit.  With 
all  this,  she  is  not  without  nobleness  ;  she 
likes  to  help  the  sick,  only  is  somewhat 
despotic  in  recommending  her  remedies. 
But  do  you  know  what  the  most  dangerous 
thing  about  Frau  Bella  is  ?  " 

"Indeed  I  do  not;  I  cannot  imagine 
what  climax  you  have  yet  to  reach.1' 

"  A  very  simple  one.    We  hear  the  devil 
talked  about  in  the  churches,  but  in  these 
days  he  appears  as   a  very  complaisant, 
very  noble  and  self-sacrificing  demon,  who 
comes  to  us  and  says,  — Here,  you  are  the 
friend  of  this  woman;  avail  yourself  of  her 
esteem  for  you,  her  confidence  in  you,  to 
put  her  in  the  right  frame  of  mind ;  you 
must  teach  her  to  appreciate  her  husband, 
to  honor  him  as  he  desires  to  be  honored. 
This  sophistical  demon  seems  to  be  very 
subtle,  but  is  really  the  clumsiest  of  all; 
for  never  did  one  human  being  learn  to 
value  another,  least  of  all,  a  wife  her  hus- 
band, through  a  third  person's  influence. 
There  is  a  final  impulse  of  life,  and  a  final 
impulse  of  love,  which  must  come  from 
the  person  himself;  and  where  that  does 
not  exist,  the  tongues  of  angels  would  be 
employed  in  vain.    Have  you  seen  the  head 
of  Medusa?    The   ancients  esteemed  the 
victory  over  Medusa  to  be  the  greatest 
achievement  of  Theseus ;  she  is  poisonous 
beauty.    In  ancient    times   she  hardened 
men  to  stone,  in  modern,  she  softens  them 
into  effeminacy.    I  have  a  special  hatred 
against  this  Frau  Bella;  do  you  know 
why  ?     Because   she  makes   a  hypocrite 
of  me  every  time  I  go  to  Wolfsgarten. 
I  have  no  business  to  be  so  polite  as  I  am 
to  her ;  and  the  fact  that  I  am  so,  out  of 
regard  to  Clodwig,  is  no  excuse.    No  one  • 
has  such  a  bad  effect  upon  me  as  this  Frau 
Bella ;  she  makes  a  hypocrite  of  me,  and 
she  kindles  in  me  such  a  passion  for  destruc- 
tion as  I  had  not  thought  myself  capable  of. 
She  is  a  quack  doctress.    If  I  prescribe  a 
medicine,  she  always  knows  beforehand  what 
I  am  going  to  prescribe.    Medicinally  I 
have  pretty  much  broken  down  her  preten- 
sions, but  intellectually  she  has  more  than 
ever.    She  has  family  medicines  and  figures 
of  speech  at  her  tongue's  end,  as  if  she  had 
been  a  deep  student,  whereas  the  root  of 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


215 


her  whole  nature  is  want  of  reverence,  an 
impertinent  meddling  with  every  subject; 
for  everything  is  a  vain  show  to  her  mind ; 
she  has  no  respect  even  for  herself, 
knowing  that  she  is  herself  nothing  but  a 
vain  show.  One  deep-rooted  trait  in  her 
is  ingratitude.  Come  what  may  to  her, 
she  will  still  be  ungrateful.  If  you  want  to 
see  the  exact  opposite  to  Bella,  look  at  the 
Major,  who  is  grateful  for  everything,  even 
for  the  very  air  he  breathes.  That  old 
child  of  a  Major  is  seventy  years  old,  and 
has  not  yet  lost  faith  in  human  goodness. 
If  the  devil  incarnate  were  to  appear,  he 
would  find  something  good  in  him  ;  but  this 
Bella  is  without  principle.  A  man  may  be 
evil-minded,  and  yet  have  strength  and  ac- 
tive powers  left  for  the  world's  service ; 
but  an  evil-minded  woman  is  wholly  evil 
and  only  evil.  Do  you  know  who  would 
be  a  fit  mate  for  Frau  Bella  ?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,1'  cried  Eric  in 
despair ;  he  felt  as  if  he  must  jump  out  of 
the  wagon. 

"The  only  man  who  would  do  for  her, 
the  only  man  capable  of  subduing  and  gov- 
erning this  whole  menagerie  which  bears 
the  name  of  Bella,  is  Herr  Sonnenkamp ; 
in  fact,  there  is  a  secret  sympathy  between 
them.'1 

Eric  was  glad  he  could  laugh ;  but  the 
Doctor  continued :  — 

"  I  am  a  heretic,  my  young  friend  ;  I  be- 
lieve that  woman  is  an  inferior  variety  in 
the  human  race.  A  man  can  never  be  so 
bad  as  a  woman,  can  never  be  so  hypocriti- 
cal. For  the  latter  quality,  to  be  sure, 
women  are  not  responsible,  having  been 
taught  from  childhood  that  the  world  cares 
only  for  appearances.  But  the  main  de- 
fect is,  that  they  have  no  broad  humanity ; 
they  do  not  go  down  to  the  first  principles 
from  which  all  things  start ;  they  regard 
everything  as  being  sewed  and  colored,  in 
the  same  way  that  their  hats  and  man- 
tillas are  by  the  mantuamakers.  On  the 
other  hand,  they  stand  under  the  curse  of 
the  beasts :  they  cannot  heartily  rejoice 
with  another ;  slander  is  a  peculiar  symp- 
tom of  blood-thirstiness.  Throughout  all 
nature,  the  female  is  the  crudest. " 

Eric  sat  still  and  heard  all  this  talked  at 
him.  When  they  arrived  at  the  place 
where  the  Doctor  was  to  get  out,  the  good 
man  puffed  out  another  long  breath,  and 
said,  his  face  glowing  with  his  earnest- 
ness, — 

"  Now  I  feel  better.  I  have  been  chok- 
ing with  this  for  a  long  while.  Thank  you 
for  having  listened  so  patiently.  Young 
friend,"  he  continued,  laying  his  hand 
kindly  on  Eric's  shoulder,  "I  am  angry 


with  the  poets,  who,  from  fear  of  giving 
offence  to  women,  have  dressed  up  this 
clever  show-woman.  If  I  have  said  too 
much  of  Frau  Bella,  as  is  possible,  I  yet 
pray  you  to  keep  in  mind  the  truths  I 
have  told  of  her,  which  I  have  not  exag- 
gerated, and  which  I  am  ready  any  moment 
to  maintain.11 

Eric  took  his  horse  by  the  bridle,  but  did 
not  mount ;  he  travelled  on,  lost  in  thought. 
That  he  should  have  heard  such  things 
against  Bella,  and  should  have  so  poorly 
defended  her,  pained  him.  With  a  look 
almost  of  devotion  he  gazed  upward  to  the 
cloudless  heaven  above  him  ;  he  would  keep 
himself  free  from  the  guilt  of  palliating  his 
own  faults.  His  heart  turned  to  Roland, 
and  something  within  him  said,  I  hope 
from  this  time  to  be  worthy  to  educate  a 
I  human  being ;  for  never  again  shall  any 
criminal  trifling  with  thoughts  and  feelings 
have  place  in  me.  I  was  vain ;  I  was 
pleased  at  appearing  brilliant,  at  being 
praised  by  a  handsome  woman,  at  feeling 
the  light  touch  of  her  warm  glove  upon  my 
hand.  No  such  man  should  dare  to  say, 
I  will  in  all  purity  educate  a  human  being. 
I  hope  now  I  am  a  man  who  can. 

With  a  feeling  of  inward  happiness  he 
pursued  his  way  and  reached  the  villa. 

A  telegram  Avas  awaiting  him,  saying  that 
the  family  would  spend  the  night  in  the 
capital. 

Eric  was  alone. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  RECEIPT  FOR  THE  FIRST  INSTALMENT 
OF  SALARY. 

Frau  Ceres  expressed  herself  in  the 
morning  strongly  disinclined  to  return  to 
the  villa.  The  fete  on  Rudolph's  hill  still 
floated  before  her  fancy,  and  she  wanted  to 
have  another  just  like  it  to-day.  She  urged 
the  Cabinetsrathin  at  least  to  go  back  with 
her  to  the  villa  and  make  her  a  visit.  The 
invitation  was  declined,  but  a  visit  promised 
at  an  early  date. 

Frau  Ceres  was  so  much  out  of  spirits, 
that  to  cheer  her  up  Sonnenkamp  made 
Pranken  sit  in  the  carriage  with  her,  while 
he  drove  with  Roland.  When  he  was  alone 
with  his  son,  he  questioned  him  on  all  kinds 
of  subjects ;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  ask 
him  how  often  Eric  visited  the  Countess 
Bella,  and  whether  they  often  took  walks 
alone  together. 

Roland  was  perplexed. 
On  the  road  they  overtook  the  saddle- 
horses,  which  had  been  sent  homewards  in 
advance  of  the  party.    The  horses  were 
wholly  enveloped  in  coverings,  so  that  only 


t 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


216 

their  eyes  and  feet  were  visible.  Sonnen- 
kamp ordered  a  halt  to  be  made  ;  the  crea- 
tures' great  eyes  were  fixed  with  a  singular 
expression  on  their  master  from  under  their 
close  coverings.  He  severely  reprimanded 
one  of  the  grooms,  whom  he  had  seen  at  a 
distance  sitting  on  one  of  the  horses  instead 
of  walking  by  the  animal's  side.  The  next 
act  of  disobedience  should  lose  the  man  his 
place.  As  they  drove  on,  Roland  made  the 
remark  that  these  horses  were  better  clothed 
than  many  men. 

Sonnenkamp  threw  a  sidelong  glance  of 
surprise  at  his  son,  but  made  no  answer. 

All  at  once  Roland  beckoned  to  the 
driver  to  stop.  He  had  noticed  by  the 
road-side  the  teamster,  employed  in  carting 
the  stone  bottles  to  the  mineral-spring, 
whom  he  had  walked  with  on  that  eventful 
night.  Alighting,  Roland  held  out  his  hand 
to  the  man  and  requested  him  to  tell  the 
hostler,  when  he  met  him,  that  he  was  inno- 
cent ;  whereupon  he  resumed  his  seat  in  the 
carriage,  the  teamster  all  the  while  staring 
after  him,  while  his  father  desired  him  to 
tell  him  more  about  the  strange  rencontre. 

Roland  related  all  he  knew,  not  omitting 
the  legend  of  the  laughing  sprite ;  but  the 
story  about  this  sprite  seemwd  to  have  no 
effect  upon  Sonnenkamp's  risibles ;  and 
when  Roland  remained,  that  he  liked  to 
familiarize  himself  with  the  life  of  poor  peo- 
ple battling  with  abject  misery,  Sonnen- 
kamp whistled  the  inaudible  tune  to  him- 
self. At  the  same  time,  the  more  Roland 
talked,  the  more  surprised  did  his  father 
appear  at  the  mental  activity  of  the  lad ; 
and  the  conversation  in  the  old  castle,  after 
Claus  had  questioned  him,  was  brought  back 
to  his  mind  with  strange  associations  and 
connections. 

Sonnenkamp  was  inwardly  debating  what 
to  do.  To  dismiss  Eric  on  the  spot  would 
not  answer,  on  Roland's  account ;  such  per- 
emptory ,dismissal  might  only  make  him 
cling  all  the  more  obstinately  to  his  errone- 
ous views  and  tendencies.  Besides,  it 
would  be  ill-advised  to  bring  about  a  rup- 
ture with  Eric,  on  account  of  the  Cabinets- 
rathin,  especially  since  she  had  expressed 
herself  strongly  on  the  point  of  procuring 
the  assistance  of  Eric's  mother ;  above  all 
else,  however,  Clodwig  had  to  be  consid- 
ered, for  the  connection  with  Clodwig  was 
not  Pranken's,  but  Eric's  work,  and  Clodwig 
was  the  most  powerful  ally  in  the  execution 
of  the  plan. 

Sonnenkamp  was  actuated  by  a  twofold 
jealousy  :  the  clergy  had  taken  one  child 
from  him  ;  this  time,  a  man  of  the  world  was 
on  the  point  of  taking  away  the  other.  He 
did  not  disapprove  in  direct  terms  of  Eric's 


ideas,  he  merely  cautioned  his  son  as  to 
there  being  no  need  of  such  utter  submis- 
sion to  a  paid  person,  adding  that  he  saw 
no  necessity  of  his  fretting  too  much  about 
his  studies,  which  might  do  well  enough  for 
people  who  had  to  fight  their  way  in  life, 
but  certainly  not  for  a  young  man  who 
required  just  about  knowledge  enough  to 
be  able  to  express  an  opinion  of  his  own. 
He  admonished  his  son  not  to  allow  his 
life  to  be  disturbed  by  fantasies  ;  and  found 
it  an  easy  task  once  more  to  make  the  glit- 
ter of  a  soldier's  life  in  the  capital  appear 
very  attractive  to  him. 

Soon  after  the  first  salutations  were 
exchanged,  Sonnenkamp  enquired  of  Eric 
where  he  had  been  the  day  before  ;  putting 
this  question  very  much  like  a  master, 
whose  servant's  time  is  by  right  his  own,, 
and  who  is  therefore  justified  in  demanding 
a  proper  account  thereof. 

Eric  told  him  of  his  visit  to  Wolfsgarten, 
dwelling  more  particularly  on  a  description 
of  the  Russian  prince. 

Sonnenkamp  smiled ;  he  was  pleased  to 
see,  that  this  proud  virtue  knew  so  well 
how  to  hide  his  deviations  from  the  straight 
path . 

Roland  was  evidently  inclined  to  break 
through  the  strict  discipline  which  Eric 
had  introduced,  and  which  he  himself  had 
re-established ;  whenever  he  stayed  through 
a  lesson  he  looked  sullen,  the  instiga- 
tions of  his  father  beginning  to  show  their 
effect.  A  glance  at  Eric  frequently  would 
show  the  latter,  that  Roland  almost  looked 
upon  him  as  his  jailor.  Hitherto  Roland 
had  only  seen  things  with  Eric's  eyes,  and 
regarded  whatever  happened  to  him  as  if  he 
were  expected  to  accept  it  for  Eric's  sake  ; 
all  this  was  now  at  an  end.  In  the  dim 
distance  still  resounded  the  notes  of  mar- 
tial music  and  the  laughter  of  military  offi- 
cers conversing  gaily. 

Eric  could  not  but  notice  this  change  in 
his  pupil ;  it  made  him  feel  sad.  He 
could  devote  all  his  energy  to  Roland. 
Roland  received  it  much  against  his  will ; 
and  since  he  no  longer  hesitated  to  mani- 
fest his  displeasure,  his  ill-humor  of  old  re- 
turned and  revived.  Again  and  again  the 
hardship  of  a  tutor's  profession  presented 
itself  to  Eric's  mind.  He  lived  the  past 
over  again.  In  his  garrison,  when  off 
duty,  he  had  lived  quietly  by  himself ;  at 
the  parental  home  he  was  allowed  to  in- 
dulge in  his  own  fancies,  his  mother  having 
been  habituated  by  his  father  to  the  belief, 
that  she  ought  to  wait  quietly  to  be  spoken 
to,  inasmuch  as  learned  men  ought  not  to 
be  disturbed  in  their  reflections  ;  and  Eric 
had  been  treated  in  the  same  way :  he  was 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


217 


never  disturbed,  and  was  left  entirely  to  his 
own  thoughts.  Now,  however,  at  table,  or 
while  out  driving,  he  had  to  answer  the 
numerous  queries  of  both  pupil  and  father, 
who  were  fond  of  asking  questions,  and 
having  intricate  ones  solved  for  them.  For 
a  long,  long  time,  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  an  independent  life,  devoted  to  his  own 
mental  improvement;  now,  however,  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if,  together  with  his  state 
of  servitude,  he  were  losing  himself,  as  if 
he  were  but  the  shadow  of  his  former  past, 
and  nothing  new  nor  fresh  was  stirring  in 
him,  while  all  his  former  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings appeared  to  require  a  forcible  awak- 
ening. Eric  mourned  over  his  mental  de- 
cline. Formerly  he  had  hardly  dared  to 
confess  to  himself,  that  he  had  derived  new 
animation  and  pleasure  from  being  near 
Bella — and  that  was  to  cease  henceforth. 
What  then  remained  for  him  ? 

He  stood  aghast  at  perceiving,  that  the 
whole  sanctity  of  his  inner  self  had  been 
staked  on  another  being,  and  a  new  reve- 
lation came  to  him,  which  made  Sonnen- 
kamp's  dissatisfaction,  as  well  as  that  of  his 
pupil,  appear  as  a  just  penalty.  He  re- 
doubled his  zeal,  but  in  vain. 

An  event,  seemingly  trifling,  and  of  a 
surprising  nature,  brought  the  disturbing 
elements  to  a  crisis.  Sonnenkamp  paid 
Eric  the  first  instalment  *of  his  salary  in 
Roland's  presence,  looking  all  the  while  tri- 
umphantly at  his  son.  Eric  trembled,  but 
quickly  recovered  his  self-control.  He  took 
the  gold  and  advanced  a  step  or  two  to- 
wards the  window  at  which  Roland  was 
standing.  Sonnenkamp  supposed,  for  a 
moment,  that  he  was  going  to  throw  the 
gold  out  of  the  window,  but  Eric  said,  in  a 
tone  of  forced  composure  :  — 

"  Roland,  take  my  pay  and  carry  the 
money  to  my  room.  There  you  may  wait 
for  me." 

Roland  took  the  gold,  looking  confusedly 
at  his  father  and  Eric. 

"  Do  me  the  favor  of  carrying  that  gold 
to  my  room,11  repeated  Eric.  "  And  now 
go.11  Roland  went.  He  carried  the  money 
as  if  it  were  a  heavy  burden,  and  repaired 
to  Eri^s  room,  where  he  deposited  it  on 
the  table.  He  then  turned  to  go,  when 
the  thought  suddenly  occurred  to  him,  that 
he  ought  also  to  watch  it ;  he  was  on  the 
point  of  locking  the  room,  when  he  remem- 
bered, that  Eric  had  ordered  him  to  wait 
for  his  coming.  He  stood  there,  while 
everything  seemed  to  be  whirling  around. 
What  had  happened  ? 

Suddenly  Pranken  came  in  to  bid  him 
good-bye.  He  congratulated  Roland  upon 
his  speedy  deliverance  from  Eric.  Then 


only  did  he  realize  what  had  happened,  and 
what  was  to  follow.  Pranken  referred 
slightingly  to  Eric,  as  to  a  man  to  whom  he 
might  make  certain  concessions  from  sheer 
pity.  Merrily  he  bade  Roland  farewell.  Af- 
ter he  had  gone.  Roland  felt  that  he  could  no 
longer  have  any  love  for  Pranken,  and 
realized  a  sense  of  loss ;  he  quietly  re- 
mained standing  at  the  table,  looking  down 
upon  the  money  before  him.  In  a  childlike' 
way  he  began  to  count  the  sum  Eric  had 
received.  For  what  length  of  time  had  he 
received  it  ?  He  could  not  .make  it  out, 
and  turned  angrily  aside  to  look  out  of  the 
window.  Behind  him  on  the  table  lay  the 
money ;  he  felt  as  if  somebody  near  him 
were  whispering  all  the  time :  Forget  me 
not! 

Meanwhile  Eric  was  still  in  the  room 
with  Sonnenkamp,  who,  with  an  air  of  great 
astonishment,  said, — 

"  You  are  wantonly  destroying  all  attach- 
ment between  us.11 

Eric  replied,  that  he  might  perhaps  have 
chosen  a  more  appropriate  time,  and  that 
nothing  but  the  manner  in  which  he  had 
been  paid  had  compelled  him  to  act  as  he 
had  done. 

"  Have  I  hurt  your  feelings  ?  11 

"  I  am  not  very  sensitive.  I  appreciate 
money  as  far  as  it  deserves  to  appreciated 
and  am  always  pleased  at  receiving  my  hon- 
est wages.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I 
love  your  son  more  than — no  matter  !  there 
is  no  standard  to  measure  love  by,  —  it  can 
only  be  measured  by  itself.11 

M  I  am  obliged  to  you.1' 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir;  allow  me  to 
finish  my  sentence.  Just  because  I  love 
your  son,  I  prefer  to  have  the  blame  fall 
upon  me  rather  than  upon  his  father.11 

"  Upon  me  ?  11 

"Yes,  sir.  I  might  have  paid  you  back 
for  the  way  in  which  you  paid  me  off  in  my 
pupiPs  presence ;  I  might  have  told  you  that 
free  labor  —  I  abstain  from  using  the  word 
love,  and  simply  confine  myself  to  refer  to 
such  work  as  one  man  will  do  freely  for  an- 
other—  can  never  be  paid.  I  suppressed 
my  feelings,  because  I  wished  that  your  son 
should  love  and  respect  you  more  than  he 
does  other  people,  than  even  myself.11 

Sonnenkamp  clenched  his  fists.  He  stared 
at  Eric  for  awhile,  but  soon  looked  down  ; 
he  had  to  exert  great  self-control  in  order 
not  to  betray  that  he  trembled. 

At  last  he  said. — 

"  I  doi^t  know  what  you  mean* by  some 
expressions  you  have  used,  and  I  don't  want 
to  know.  But  I  am  the  man  to  put  a  bul- 
let through  the  forehead  of  him  who  at- 
tempts  11 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


218 

"  I  very  readily  comprehend  your  excite- 
ment,11 said  Eric,  quietly  straightening  him- 
self up  and  looking  Sonnenkamp  coolly  in 
the  face. 

"  Who  are  you?  Who  am  I?"  asked 
Sonnenkamp,  while  his  features  were 
strangely  distorted. 

"  I  am  your  son's  tutor,  and  I  know  the 
accountableness  of  my  position ;  I  am  in 
your  service ;  this  is  your  house,  you  can 
turn  me  out  of  it  at  once." 

"  I  will  not  do  that —  not  that !  Have  I 
said  that  I  would  ?  I  must  only  explain 
myself  to  you,  and  you  must  explain  your- 
self to  me.  Have  you  not  said  to  Roland 
that  the  time  will  come,  or  has  already  come, 
when  there  would  no  longer  be  any  private 
property  ? 11 

Eric  assured  him  that  he  had  not  the  re- 
motest purpose  of  doing  anything  of  the 
kind  ;  he  was  sorry  that  he  made  use  of  the 
illustration,  and  regretted  Roland's  mis- 
conception. 

"Let  us  sit  down,1'  said  Sonnenkamp, 
his  knees  trembling.  "  Let  us  talk  calmly, 
like  reasonable  men,  like  friends,  if  I  may 
be  allowed  to  say  so." 

He  whistled  to  himself,  and  then  said,  in  a 
wholly  different  tone, — - 

"  I  must  tell  you,  that  irrespective  of  this 
mistake,  your  whole  tone  of  thought  seems 
to  me  dangerous  to  my  son.  You  seem  to 
me,  in  fact,  a  philanthropist,  and  I  honor 
that ;  you  are  one  of  those  persons  who 
would  like  to  thank  every  common  laborer 
in  the  road  for  his  toil,  and  pay  him  also  as 
much  as  possible.  You  see  I  believe  your 
philanthropy  is  genuine,  and  not  taken  up 
merely  for  the  sake  of  popularity.  But  this 
philanthropy  —  I  speak  without  any  dis- 
guise—  is  not  the  thing  for  my  son.  My 
son  will  have,  at  some  time,  a  princely  in- 
come ;  and  if  a  rich  man  must  go  through  life 
in  this  way,  always  looking  around  to  see 
where  there  is  poverty,  where  there  is  not 
adequate  compensation,  he  would  be  con- 
demned to  greater  wretchedness  than  the 
beggar  in  the  ditch.  The  worst  thing  that 
could  be  done  to  my  son  would  be  to  make 
him  sentimental,  or  even  pitiful  and  com- 
passionate. I  am  not  one  of  those  men,  and 
I  would  not  have  my  son  to  be  one,  who  are 
eternally  longing  after  the  ineffable,  and,  as 
I  believe,  unattainable;  I  want  for  myself 
and  for  my  son  a  practical  enjoyment  of  ex- 
istence. Believe  me,  a  contraband-trade 
will  be  driven  in  feelings,  if  one  persuades 
himself  that  men  in  lower  conditions  have 
the  same  susceptibilities  that  we  have." 

"I  thank  you,"  replied  Eric,  "for  this 
straightforward  plainness  of  speech,  and  I 
am  glad  that  you  have  given  me  the  oppor- 


tunity to  tell  you  that  I  have  endeavored  to 
make  Roland  good-hearted,  but  not  weak- 
hearted.  He  is  to  comprehend  the  goodly 
advantages  of  his  life,  so  that  he  may*  re- 
ceive and  make  his  own  the  noblest  and  the 
highest ;  he  is  to  be  a  noble  administrator 
of  the  grand  power  that  is  to  be  put  into 
his  hands." 

Eric  unfolded  this  more  in  detail,  and 
Sonnenkamp,  extending  his  hand  to  him, 
said, — 

"  You  are  —  you  are  —  a  noble  man,  you 
have  also  to  be  my  educator.  Forget  what 
has  happened.  I  trust  you  now,  uncondi- 
tionally. I  confide  in  you,  that  you  will 
not  alienate  from  me  the  heart  of  my  child, 
that  you  will  not  make  him  a  soft-hearted 
helper  of  everybody  and  everything.11 

Sonnenkamp  jerked  these  words  out  for- 
cibly, for  he  inwardly  chafed,  that  this  man, 
whom  he  wanted  to  humble,  had  humbled 
him,  so  that  he  was  compelled  to  stand  be- 
fore him  like  a  beggar,  entreating  a  stranger 
not  to  alienate  from  him  the  heart  of  his 
child. 

"Why," — he  at  last  began  again,  "I 
pray  you,  I  only  ask  for  information,  for  I 
am  convinced  that  you  have  good  grounds 
for  every  such  step,"  —  a  spiteful  glance, 
notwithstanding  all  his  guarded  discretion, 
gleamed  forth  at  this  question — "I  only 
ask  for  information,  why  youiiave  restrained 
Roland  from  making  a  free  use  of  his  purse, 
as,  since  my  return,  I  have  been  informed 
is  the  case.11  . 

"  I  cannot  give  definite  reasons  for  all  my 
doings,  but  I  have  a  valid  one  for  this.  Ro- 
land lavishes  and  squanders  money,  and  he 
does  it  ignorantly  and  wantonly,  while  I 
consider  the  control  of  money  a  part  of 
self-control." 

And  now  Eric  informed  Sonnenkamp  what 
an  impression  the  robbery  had  made  upon 
Roland.  Exultantly  Sonnenkamp  cried 
out : — 

"lam  rejoiced  that  he  has  found  out  so 
early  how  completely  one  is  surrounded  in 
the  world  by  knaves ;  he  will  be  cautious 
whenever  he  comes  to  manage  his  own  af- 
fairs. Yes,  Herr  Philosopher,  write  down 
in  your  books  :  The  one  trait  in  which  man 
surpasses  the  brutes  is,  that  man  is  the  only 
animal  who  can  dissemble  and  can  lie.  And 
the  sooner  and  the  more  perfectly  my  son 
can  know  that  fact,  so  much  the  better  am 
I  pleased.  I  should  be  very  glad  if  Roland 
had  been  through  the  second  grade  of 
schools." 

"  The  second  grade  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  the  first  is,  to  bestow  benefits  upon 
people,  and  then  to  get  an  insight  into  their 
rascality ;  the  second  is,  to  play  games  of  - 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


219 


chance,  believing  that  one  can  make  any 
gain  thereby.  Debts  of  beneficence  and 
debts  of  the  gaming-table  are  not  very  wil- 
lingly paid.1' 

There  was  a  certain  fatherly  tone  in  Son- 
nenkamp's  voice,  as  he  praised  Eric's  tran- 
scendental benevolent  intents,  at  the  same 
time  warning  him  of  the  baseness  of  the 
whole  brood  of  human  creatures.  His  fun- 
damental maxim  was,  that  man  is  a  wolf  to 
his  fellow-man. 

When  Eric  came  to  Roland,  the  latter 
stretched  out  both  his  hands  to  him. 

"  I  thank  you,"  cried  the  boy,  "  for  treat- 
ing me  as  my  father  treated  you ;  yes,  I 
will  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  money. 
I  beseech  you,  forgive  my  father  for  paying 
you  like  a  servant." 

Eric  had  great  difficulty  in  making  an  ex- 
planation to  the  boy,  so  as  not  to  disturb 
and  bewilder  his  natural  feelings  and  per- 
ceptions. The  son  must  preserve  love  and 
respect  for  his  father. 

"Put  away  the  gold,"  Roland  entreated. 
Erie  immediately  put  it  away  out  of  sight, 
for  he  saw  how  it  annoyed  the  youth. 

"  Give  me  something,"  he  then  tfesought. 

"  I  have nothingto  give,"  answeredEric. 
"But  you  will  know  henceforth,  that  one  hu- 
man being  can  give  something  to  another 
which  is  of  more  value  than  all  the  gold  in 
the  world ;  we  will  both  hold  fast  the  prov- 
erb :  A  friend  who  can  desert  you  was 
never  your  friend." 

Roland  kissed  the  hand  which  had  re- 
ceived the  gold.  Eric  was  opposed  to  all 
sentimentality,  but  here  he  had  witnessed 
the  opening  of  a  flower,  and  had  inhaled  its 
earliest  fragrance.,  and  this  flower  was  a 
youth's  heart. 

"We  will  go  and  see  the  Major,"  said 
Roland  at  last ;  it  was  evident  that  he  wanted 
to  be  with  some  person  who  had  nothing  to 
do  with  all  this  perplexity,  and  simply  lived 
his  own  quiet  life. 

They  went  to  the  Majors,  but  did  not  find 
him  in.  They  walked  for  a  long  time  to- 
gether, until  after  dark,  without  speaking  a 
word. 

Sonnenkamp  also  walked  about  the  park 
in  the  silent  night,  inwardly  chafing  at  the 
thought  that  there  was  always  something  to  | 


conceal,  for  a  single  expression  of  Eric's 
that  day  had  awakened  a  powerful  struggle 
within  him.  That  expression  was.  free 
labor.  And  then  he  began  to  wonder  how 
it  had  happened  that  he  had  allowed  himself 
to  do  anything  to  wound  Eric,  while  it  was 
still  his  intention  to  send  for  his  mother. 
It  produced  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  in  him, 
when  he  thought  how  infinitely  charitable 
people  would  consider  that.  If  he  himself 
could  only  have  believed  that  it  was  true 
charity  !  But  he  knew  what  his  own  object 
really  was.  No  matter  !  If  the  world  be- 
lieves in  the  noble  and  kindly,  that  is 
enough.  She  who  is  rouged  knows  that  she 
has  not  red  cheeks,  but  she  takes  pleasure 
in  the  thought  that  the  world  believes  she 
has,  and  she  is  gay  and  girlish. 

Sonnenkamp  had  desired  that  Pranken 
should  •  purchase  the  neighboring  villa 
which  they  wished  to  sell  to  the  Cabinets- 
räthin.  Pranken  had  declined  to  do  it  in  a 
friendly  manner,  and  for  good  reasons,  that 
it  would  seem  a  natural  measure  for  Sonnen- 
kamp to  take,  in  order  to  secure  a  good 
neighbor.  Sonnenkamp  did  not  know 
whether  to  hope  or  fear  that  Pranken  had 
already  taken  measures  beforehand,  and 
thereby  made  a  profit  for  himself.  Was  he 
to  be  over-reached  ?  But  it  would  be  fine 
if  his  son-in-law  had  such  a  prudent  eye  to 
his  own  advantage. 

Sonnenkamp  did  not  concern  himself 
much  the  next  few  days  with  house  or  gar- 
den, with  Roland  or  Eric ;  he  visited  the 
country-house,  offered  to  purchase  the  vine- 
yards appertaining  to  it,  and  became  com- 
pletely convinced  that  Pranken  had  taken 
no  steps  in  the  matter.  He  was  well  satis- 
fied to  acknowledge  to  himself  that  he  had 
not  been  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  the  nobility ;  Pranken  was  a  man 
who  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  clan- 
destine methods  of  gaining  a  pecuniary 
profit. 

The  Wine-count  was  his  principal  com- 
petitor for  the  country-house  offered  for 
sale ;  it  was  said  he  wanted  to  purchase  it 
for  his  son-in-law,  the  son  of  the  Marshal  of 
the  Prince's  household.  Sonnenkamp  closed 
the  bargain  immediately. 


220 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

NOT  EASILY  DIGESTED  BY  ONE  OF  TH  E 
GUESTS. 

If  Claus  had  heard  in  prison  that  Son- 
nenkamp had  bought  another  country-house, 
he  would  certainly  have  exclaimed,  — 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Of  course  he'll  buy  up 
the  whole  Rhineland  yet.11  But  he  learned 
nothing  of  it. 

The  legal  inquiry  was  protracted,  and 
the  Judge  was  sufficiently  well  disposed  to 
draw  up  new  papers  for  the  interrogation 
of  Eric  and  Roland  at  the  villa ;  yet  this 
unpleasant  occurrence  interrupted  the  course 
of  instruction  more  than  one  could  have 
believed. 

Entertainments  also  were  not  wanting, 
for  Roland  one  day  announced  to  Eric  :  — 

"  Count  Wolfsgarten  is  to  give  a  grand 
f<§te ;  father  and  mother  are  rejoiced ;  and 
you  and  I  are  also  invited.'1 

Sonnenkamp  was  very  well  satisfied  with 
Pranken  for  having  brought  this  about ; 
Eri^s  cooperation  was  no  longer  of  any 
account.  It  was  settled  with  Pranken,  that 
Clodwig,  who  was  the  most  influential  mem- 
ber of  the  Committee  for  conferring  no- 
bility, should  be  gained  over  to  favor  the 
object  now  exclusively  occupying  their 
attention,  and  induced  to  take  actively  the 
initiative. 

Sonnenkamp  stood  before  his  armory, 
and  before  the  large  money-safe  built  into 
the  walls ;  here  were  many  potent  agencies, 
but  they  were  of  no  help  in  this  matter, 
where  personal  influence  alone  availed.  He 
was  despondent  for  a  short  time  ;  then  he 
proudly  drew  himself  up,  thinking  that  he 
had  already  succeeded  in  other  undertak- 
ings, and  here  also  there  would  not  be 
wanting  to  him  the  requisite  means. 

He  had  a  severe  contest  with  Frau  Ceres 
on  the  day  they  were  to  go  to  the  fete ;  she 
wanted  to  wear  all  her  jewelry  to  dinner, 
and  even  Fraulein  Perini  could  not  divert 
her  from  her  purpose,  by  representing  how 
irrefragably  settled  it  was  that  no  diamonds 
should  be  worn  by  daylight.  Frau  Ceres 
wept  like  a  little  child,  and  she  preferred 
to  remain  at  home  if  this  pleasure  was  be- 
grudged her. 

Sonnenkamp  entreated  her  to  dress  plain- 
ly, and  not  annoy  the  Countess  by  wear- 
ing jewels  worth  twenty  times  what  she 
herself  possessed ;  and  it  was  promised  her, 
that  at  the  next  fete  given  at  the  house, 
she  might  appear  in  full  costume. 

But  Frau  Ceres  persisted  in  saying  that 
she  would  not  accompany  them  if  she  could 
not  wear  her  jewels. 

"Well,  then,"   said  Sonnenkamp,  "I 


will  send  a  messenger  to  Wolfsgarten  imme- 
diately, to  inform  them  that  you  will  remain 
at  home.11 

He  had  a  groom  sent  for  at  once,  and 
gave  him  orders  to  saddle  a  horse,  in  order 
to  ride  immediately  to  Wolfsgarten.  He 
went  off.  Frau  Ceres1  look  followed  him 
with  a  very  angry  glance  ;  she  was  then  the 
miserable  child  who  must  remain  at  home, 
when,  all  the  rest  were  going  to  the  fete. 
After  a  time,  she  hastened  to  Sonnenkamp's 
room,  and  announced  that  she  would  go 
with  them  in  the  way  they  desired. 

Sonnenkamp  regretted  that  he  had  already 
sent  the  messenger  off,  and  now  Frau  Ceres 
besought  him,  with  tears,  to  send  a  second 
messenger  announcing  her  coming.  Son- 
nenkamp asserted  that  this  was  no  longer 
possible,  but  finally  yielded.  He  went  him- 
self to  the  stables,  and  had  nothing  further 
to  do  than  to  say  to  the  groom,  — 

"  Take  off  the  saddle  !  11  for  he  had  not 
sent  him  away,  knowing  that  Frau  Ceres 
would,  after  a  while,  beseech  him  like  a 
child. 

They  drove  to  Wolfsgarten.  Frau  Bella 
was  extremely  glad  to  be  able  to  welcome 
the  Cabinetsrathin ;  she  was  very  amiable, 
and  looked  to-day  lovelier  than  ever. 
She  had  a  -friendly  word  for  everybody, 
and  she  was  especially  gracious  to  Eric. 
She  thought  that,  at  his  last  visit,  he 
seemed  to  be  a  little  out  of  tune,  and  she 
wished  now  to  dissipate  any  such  feeling 
by  exhibiting  a  decided  preference. 

Eric  received  the  friendly  attention  grate- 
fully, but  very  coldly,  as  the  sharp-eyed 
woman  did  not  fail  to  perceive. 

Sonnenkamp,  who  had  quick  perception, 
held  his  breath  as  a  hunter  does,  when  the 
game  comes  within  range  of  his  shot.  In- 
deed, thought  he,  they  know  how  to  play  a 
good  game  !  The  reputation  of  this  house 
for  virtue  had  hitherto  weighed  upon  him 
somewhat,  but  now  he  moved  about  with  a 
sort  of  home  feeling. 

It  was*  a  little  court  assembled  here,  and 
the  etiquette,  though  savoring  of  rural 
freedom,  was  not  the  less  precise.  A  large 
number  of  prominent  personages  were  col- 
lected, and  the  fact  was  the  more  striking, 
because  they  were  brought  together  from 
scattered  points  of  country  life ;  it  was  a 
group  of  separate  and  independent  indi- 
viduals drawn  hither  from  their  retirement. 
The  larger  portion  were  officers  who  had 
retired  on  pensions,  or  been  honorably  dis- 
charged from  the  service ;  there  were  red, 
yellow,  and  blue  ribbons  of  different  orders 
modestly  tied  in  the  button-holes ;  the 
old  gentlemen  had  their  hair  carefully 
dressed,  and  their  beards  freshly  colored ; 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


221 


the  ladies  showed  that  they  had  sojourned  at 
Paris  some  weeks  in  the  year  to  some  pur- 
pose. 

The  conversation  was  carried  on  in 
French,  out  of  regard  to  a  French  lady. 

A  celebrated  musician  had  also  been  in- 
vited, now  staying  at  the  country-house  of 
a  brother-artist,  who  had  married  a  former 
music-pupil,  a  rich  heiress,  and  had  gained 
a  highly  respectable,  standing  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

Except  Eric,  Herr  Sonnenkamp  and  the 
musical-artist  were  the  only  untitled  per- 
sonages in  the  company ;  his  genius  raised 
the  artist,  and  his  millions  the  rich  man, 
into  the  new  atmosphere.  The  Wine-cav- 
alier might  already  be  considered  as  one 
of  the  nobility,  for  it  was  known  that  his 
whole  family  were  to  be  ennobled  very 
soon.  The  newly  betrothed  couple  had 
also  been  invited, but  on  the  day  of  the  fete, 
a  letter  was  received  which  contained  the 
information,  couched  in  courteous  terms  of 
regret,  that  the  bridegroom,  having  been 
taken  slightly  ill,  was  unable  to  be  present, 
and  the  bride  had  therefore  remained  at 
home.  No  one  of  the  Wine-count's  family 
made  his  appearance,  except  the  Wine-cava- 
lier, who  expressed  in  renewed  terras  regret 
for  the  indisposition  of  his  future  brother-in- 
law. 

A  famous  portrait-painter  was  also  pres- 
ent, who  had  been  for  several  weeks  at  the 
country-house  of  the  Wine-count  in  order 
to  paint  life-size  portraits  of  the  betrothed 
couple.  He  was  very  much  the  fashion,  and 
was  very  successful  in  pearls,  lace,  and  gray 
satin,  and  also  in  faces,  except  that  they 
all  had  a  strong  tinge  of  blue ;  but  he  was 
very  popular  with  the  court,  and  there  could 
be  no  question  but  that  he  was  the  only  man 
to  paint  the  distinguished  bride. 

The  Russian  Prince  was,  of  course,  a  star 
of  the  first  magnitude.  Sonnenkamp  occu- 
pied the  place  of  honor  next  to  Frau  Bella, 
and  on  the  other  side  sat  the  Prince.  Clod- 
wig  had  Frau  Ceres  by  his  side,  and  the 
Major  was  very  naturally  seated  next,  as 
an  efficient  ally.  Clodwig  entertained  Frau 
Ceres  in  a  very  friendly  way,  and  she  ate 
freely  to-day,  out  of  embarrassment,  with- 
out Sonnenkamp's  intervention . 

Sonnenkamp  had  brought  into  play  his 
old  weapons  of  gallantry,  but  he  seemed  to 
have  no  success,  for  Bella  did  not  half  list- 
en to  him,  giving  much  of  her  attention  to 
the  conversation  of  Eric  with  the  Russian. 

All  at  once  the  conversation  between 
different  individuals  ceased,  as  the  Prince 
asked  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  — 

"Do  they  also  designate  the  slaves  in 
America  as  souls  ?  " 


"  I  do  not  understand  your  meaning." 

"  I  mean  that  in  Russia  we  designate  the 
serfs  as  souls  :  a  man  is  said  to  have  so 
many  hundred  or  thousand  souls ;  and  do 
they  call  them  so  in  America  too?  " 

"No." 

"It  is  questioned  indeed."  interposed 
Clodwig,  "whether  the  niggers  really  have 
souls.  Humboldt  relates  that  the  savages 
have  the  notion  that  apes  also  can  speak, 
but  that  they  purposely  refrain  from  doing  • 
so,  because  they  are  afraid  that  they  also 
shall  be  compelled  to  work  if  it  is  known 
that  they  can  speak." 

A  general  laugh  proceeded  from  the  com- 
pany at  table,  and  Clodwig  added,  — 

"  If  we  dig  up  the  smallest  vessel  belon- 
ing  to  the  Greek  and  Roman  age,  we  dis- 
cover always  some  sort  of  beauty ;  but,  so 
far  as  I  am  acquainted,  the  niggers  have 
never  embodied  a  single  new  beautiful  form." 

"Neither  have  they,"  interposed  the 
Prince,  "as  has  been  said,  ever  invented 
even  a  mouse-trap  !  V 

"  Not  even  that,"  replied  Clodwig.  "  The 
question  comes  up,  whether  the  negroes  can 
be  inheritors  of  civilization,  for  they  are 
not  inheritors  of  the  beautiful  human  form 
as  it  has  been  handed  down  to  us  from 
Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome,  and  so  cannot 
become  cultivators  of  the  plastic  arts  ;  and 
art  alone  is  the  ennobler  of  humanity.  They 
cannot  create  the  beautiful  after  their  like- 
ness ;  and  as  it  is  said,  '  God  made  man  af- 
ter his  image,1  so  man  fashions  his  gods  af- 
ter his  own  likeness,  which  the  negroes 
cannot  do.  Perhaps  in  the  coming  time 
they  will  create  something  for  themselves, 
but  not  for  others ;  and  they  are  therefore 
not  partakers  of  the  inheritance,  for  they 
are  not  included  in  the  great  human  bro- 
therhood, which  is  not  to  be  entered  by 
force." 

Sonnenkamp  looked  up ;  his  whole  coun- 
tenance expanded.  This  is  the  utterance 
of  a  man  whose  love  of  humanity  is  not  to 
be  questioned. 

"  That  is  a  fact !  "  he  interposed.  "  There 
is  no  sentimentalism  in  America  :  our  plain 
common-sense  views  are  declared  heterodox 
indeed  by  pedantic  wisdom,  and  branded 
as  inhumanity,  but  there  is  a  priesthood  of 
so-called  humanity ;  and  it  has  its  inquisi- 
tion as  well  as  the  other  priesthood." 

Sonnenkamp  spoke  with  a  concentrated 
scorn,  with  a  repelling  violence,  which  clear- 
ly showed  how  unsuitable  he  considered  the 
topic  introduced  by  the  Prince,  although 
he  had  done  it  in  a  most  civil  manner. 
Clodwig  thought  that  he  ought  to  come  to 
his  assistance,  and  he  began  in  a  low  tone 
but  became  more  animated  as  he  went  on . 


222 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Whoever  considers  historical  facts  with 
coolness  and  impartiality  sees  that  the  Idea 
is  continually  unfolding,  working  long  in 
stillness,  but  without  cessation ;  and  this  si- 
lent working  goes  on,  until  some  unex- 
pected fact  which  has  nothing  in  common 
with  the  Idea  brings  it  into  clear  light  and 
perfect  development.  The  Idea  only  pre- 
pares the  way  by  setting  the  tune ;  the  fact 
is  irrefragable,  and  performs  an  actual  part.1' 

Bella  said  something  in  a  low  tone  to  the 
Prince  on  her  right,  but  Clodwig  was  well 
aware  that  it  was  meant  for  an  apology  for 
his  somwehat  heavy  and  abstract  statement ; 
with*  a  hardly  perceptiblfe  twinge  of  his  face, 
and  his  lips  drawn  somewhat  pointedly  to- 
gether, he  resumed :  — 

"I  am  of  the  conviction,  that  without  Se- 
bastopol  the  emancipation  of  the  peasants 
would  not  have  been  brought  about,  and  in 
the  way  it  has  been ;  and  who  knows  when 
and  how  it  could  have  been  accomplished  in 
any  other  way  ?  Saul  goes  forth  to-day,  as 
of  old,  to  look  for  an  ass,  and  finds  a  king- 
dom, —  the  kingdom  of  a  regal,  all-powerful 
Idea.  The  Crimean  war  was  undertaken 
for  the  purpose  of  humiliating  Russia,  and 
it  brought  Russia  to  the  measure  of  estab- 
lishing a  free  peasantry,  and  renewing  her- 
self in  her  inner  life.  These  are  the  great 
facts  of  history,  and  they  are  not  our  doing." 

"  That  is  new  to  me.  surprisingly  new," 
interposed  the  Prince,  while  Clodwig  con- 
tinued :  — 

"  The  Russian  ambassador  informed  me 
that  during  the  Crimean  war  the  rumor  was 
spread  —  no  one  knew  its  origin,  and  yet  it 
was  in  all  mouths  —  that  every  one  who  had 
fought  at  Sebastopol,  or  who  had  volunteered 
for  the  war  to  deliver  the  Emperor  from  the 
Allies,  should  have  land  given  him  as  a  free 
present  at  its  conclusion.  This  was  a  fixed 
notion  in  all  brains,  and  where  did  it  come 
from  ?  The  idea  of  the  emancipation  of  the 
serfs,  which  had  been  mooted  for  a  long  time 
in  books  and  journals  and  among  the  higher 
classes  of  the  community,  now  took  deep 
hold  of  the  imagination,  and  assumed  a  def- 
inite form  in  the  consciousness  of  the  peo- 
ple, becoming  a  fact  plain  as  day,  that  re- 
quired only  the  imperial  decree  to  set  its 
seal  upon  it." 

Clodwig  stopped,  as  if  wearied,  but  he 
summoned  up  his  strength  afresh  and  cried  : 

"This  is  the  old  grand  saying:  'the 
sword6  shall  be  turned  into  ploughshares. '  " 

The  entire  company  looked  at  each  oth- 
er with  surprise,  not  understanding  why 
and  how  Clodwig  had  fallen  into  such  a 
strain  ;  Eric  alone  gazed  at  Clodwig  with  a 


beaming  countenance.  As  a  hand  was 
placed  upon  his  shoulder,  he  looked  round, 
startled.  Roland,  standing  behind  him, 
said,  — 

"  That  is  exactly  what  you  once  said  to 
me." 

"Sit  down,  and  be  quiet,"  said  Eric. 
Roland  went  to  his  seat,  but  he  waited  un- 
til he  caught  Eric's  eye,  and  then  drank  to 
him. 

Bella  looked  around,  as  if  wanting  help  to 
start  some  subject  more  befitting  table-talk : 
she  looked  at  Eric,  and  nodded  to  him,  as  if 
beseeching  him  to  divert  the  conversation 
from  these  detestable  matters. 

Just  then  the  servants  poured  out  some 
Johannisberg  in  delicate  pretty  glasses,  and 
Eric  said,  holding  the  glass  up  before  him,  — 

"  Herr  Count,  such  wine  as  this  the  old 
nations  never  drank  out  of  those  stone  jars 
which  we  have  dug  up  from  the  ground." 

Bella  nodded  to  him  cheeringly,  but  as 
he  said  nothing  further,  she  asked, — 

"  Have  we  any  precise  information  about 
the  ancient  method  of  cultivating  the  vine  ?  " 

"Very  little,"  replied  Eric.  "The  an- 
cients probably  had  no  notion  of  this  bou- 
quet, this  spirit  of  the  wine,  for  they  drank 
it  only  unfermented." 

"Iam  very  far,"  interposed  Sonnenkamp, 
"from  laying  any  claim  to  classical  lore, 
but  it  is  very  easily  seen,  that  without  the 
cutting  of  the  vines  there  can  be  no  matur- 
ing and  full  concentration  of  the  sap  in  the 
clusters  ;  and  without  the  cask  there  can  be 
no  mellow  and  perfectly  ripe  wine." 

"Without  the  cask?  Why  the  cask?" 
asked  the  Russian.  "Does  the  wood  of 
the  cask  serve  to  clarify  the  wine  ?  " 

"I  think  not,"  answered  Sonnenkamp, 
"but  the  wooden  cask  allows  the  air  to 
penetrate,  allows  the  wine  to  become  ripe 
in  the  vaults,  allows  it  to  work  itself  pure, 
—  in  a  word,  to  come  to  perfection.  In  ves- 
sels of  clay  the  wine  is  suffocated,  or,  at 
best,  experiences  no  change." 

With  great  address,  Bella  added, —  "  That 
delights  me ;  now  I  see  that  a  progressive 
culture  contributes  to  higher  enjoyment  even 
of  the  products  of  nature.11 

Sonnenkamp  was  highly  pleased ;  he  was 
here  able  to  add  something  interesting,  and 
he  appeared  in  a  very  favorable  light.  Then 
the  conversation  was  carried  on  between 
different  individuals. 

There  was  general  cheerfulness  and  hil- 
arity, and  every  painful  impression  seemed 
to  have  passed  away :  their  faces  glowed, 
and  their  eyes  shone  brightly,  as  the  com- 
pany arose  from  the  table. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


223 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
•HELP  YOURSELF. 

The  gentlemen  sat  by  themselves  in  the 
garden,  taking  coffee  after  the  ladies  had 
withdrawn. 

The  Prince,  who  wanted  to  show  manifest 
friendliness  towards  Sonnenkamp,  spoke. of 
his  intention  to  travel  in  America,  and 
Clodwig  encouraged  it,  regretting  that  he 
had  not  done  so  in  his  youth. 

"  I  think  that  he  who  has  not  been  in 
America  does  not  know  what  man  is  when 
he  gives  himself  the  reins  :  life  there  awak- 
ens entirely  new  energies  in  the  soul,  and 
in  the  midst  of  the  struggle  for  worldly  pos- 
sessions, each  one  becomes  a  sort  of  Robin- 
son Crusoe,  who  must  develop  in  himself 
new  resources.  I  should  say  that  America 
has  some  points  of  comparison  with  Greece : 
in  Greece  the  body  was  exhibited  naked, 
and  in  America  the  soul.  This  is  by  no 
means  the  most  attractive  sight,  but  a  re- 
newal of  humanity  may  yet  be  the  result." 

The  Musician,  who  was  about  to  make 
a  professional  journey  to  America,  re- 
marked, — 

"I  don't  see  how  they  live  in  a  land 
whose  soil  grows  no  wine,  and  in  whose 
air  sings  no  lark.1' 

"Allow  me  one  question,  Herr  Count," 
Eric  now  said.  "It  is  striking  that  they 
have  been  able  to  invent  no  new  names  in 
America,  but  have  taken  from  the  aborig- 
inal inhabitants,  and  from  the  immigrants 
out  of  the  old  world,  their  names  for  rivers, 
mountains,  towns,  and  men ;  and  I  would 
here  like  to  ask, —  has  the  new  world  suc- 
ceeded in  adding  a  new  ethical  principle  to 
those  already  established  ?  " 

"  Certainly,11  interposed  Sonnenkamp, 
"the  best  that  there  is  going.11 

"  The  best !    What  is  it  ?  11 

"  The  two  significant  words,  —  '  Help 
yourself.1 11 

Shaking  his  head,  Clodwig  said, — 

"Strictly  speaking,  '  Help  yourself '  is 
not  a  human,  but  an  animal  principle ;  for 
every  beast  helps  himself  with  all  his  pow- 
ers. This  maxim  was  only  justifiable  as  a 
protest  against  a  polished  and  hollow  con- 
ventionalism, or  against  that  utter  abandon- 
ment of  individual  effort  in  demanding  every 
thing  from  the  State.  '  Help  yourself1  is  a 
good  motto  for  an  immigrant,  but  as  soon 
as  he  becomes  a  settler,  he  stands  in  rela- 
tions of  rights  and  duties  as  regards  others. 
In  the  far  west  of  America,  '  Help  yourself1 
does  not  apply,  for  there  the  neighbors  help 
each  other  a  great  deal.  '  Help  yourself 
is  of  avail,  at  farthest,  for  individuals  by 
themselves,  and  not  for  those  assembled 


in  a  community :  the  serfs  could  not  help 
themselves,  and  the  slaves  have  not  been 
able  to  help  themselves.  The  moral  law  of 
solidarity  is, —  '  Help  thy  neighbor,  as  thy 
neighbor  is  to  help  thee ;  and  when  thou 
helpest  thyself,  thou  helpest  also  others.1 11 

Here  they  came  upon  the  subject  so  hap- 
pily turned  aside  at  table,  but  as  no  one 
seemed  disposed  to  resume  it,  Clodwig  con- 
tinued, — 

"  It  would  seem  that  every  people  must 
become  adopted  as  a  citizen  in  the  great 
realm  of  history,  through  some  idea.  I  be- 
lieve that  the  grand  calling  of  America  is, 
to  annihilate  slavery  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  But  as  I  said  before,  this  is  the  car- 
rying out  of  an  idea  that  has  been  for  a  long 
time  maturing.  I  should  like  to  ask  if 
America  has  any  new  moral  principle  ? 11 

"Perhaps  the  sewing-machine  is  a  new 
moral  principle,11  said  Pranken,  in  his  free, 
joking  manner. 

They  laughed. 

"  But  there  is  a  moral  principle  involved 
in  '  Help  yourself,1 11  interposed  Eric. 
"Among  us  Europeans,  a  man  becomes 
something  through  inheritance,  or  through 
royal  favor,  while  the  American  looks  for 
nothing  from  others,  and  seeks  to  become 
what  he  can  be  through  his  own  efforts,  and 
not  through  any  foreign  help.  And  in  re- 
spect to  that  belief  which  regards  man  as  a 
pack  of  merchandise,  to  be  forwarded  by 
some  agent  to  its  heavenly  destination,  this 
maxim,  '  Help  yourself,1  is  very  significant. 
Thou,  man,  art  no  coffer,  well  corded  with 
legal  prescriptions,  and  sealed  by  the  spirit- 
ual officers  of  customs  as  having  paid  the 
duty  and  passed  inspection,  but  "thou  art  a 
living  passenger  on  this  earth,  and  must  look 
out  for  thyself.  Help  yourself!  Nobody 
forwards  thee  to  thy  destination ;  and  we 
Germans  have  a  proverb  that  comes  near 
it  in  meaning :  '  Each  one  must  carry  his 
own  hide  to  market.1 " 

"May  I  ask  a  question?1'  said  Roland, 
entering  into  the  conversation. 

All  were  surprised,  especially  Eric  and 
Sonnenkamp. 

"  Ask  it  if  you  wish,"  Eric  said  encour- 
agingly. 

"  When  I  heard  the  Herr  Count  speak- 
ing of  the  heritage  of  civilization,  I  felt  as 
if  I  must  ask :  how  do  we  know  that  we 
are  civilized  ?  " 

The  youth  spoke  with  timidity,  and  Eric 
encouraged  him. 

"Explain  more  fully  what  you  mean  by 
that." 

"  Perhaps  the  Turks  or  the  Chinese  con- 
sider us  barbarous." 

"  You  would  have,  then,"  Eric  said,  to 


224 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


help  him  on,  "  some  unmistakable  token 
whereby  a  people,  an  age,  a  religion,  a 
man,  can  perceive  whether  they  are  in  the 
great  current  of  universal,  historical  civili- 
zation ?  11 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  I  mean." 

"  Well,  then,  consider  wherein  does  a  cul- 
tivated man  differ  from  an  uncultivated?  " 

"  He  differs  from  him  in  having  good 
•  thoughts  and  clear  views." 

"  Where  does  he  get  these  ?  " 

"  Out  of  himself." 

"And  how  does  he  learn   to  sharpen 
them,  and  to  round  them  off?  " 
"  By  comparing  them." 
"With  what?" 

"  With  the  thoughts  of  great  men." 

"And  does  he  perceive  truth  in  agree- 
ment with  others,  or  in  opposition  to  them  ?  " 

"  In  agreement  with  them." 

"  And  where  do  those  live  with  whom  he 
is  in  agreement  ?  " 

"  All  around  him." 

"  Have  not  others  lived  before  .him  ?  " 
"  Certainly." 

' '  And  can  we  compare  our  thoughts  and 
views  with  those  men  who  have  lived  before 
•  us,  or  learn  directly  from  the  past  ?  " 

4 '  Certainly ;  that  is  what  writings  are 
for." 

"Good!  And  if  now  a  man,  or  a  people, 
has  a  system  or  a  culture  which  has  no  con- 
nection with  the  past,  with  no  man  and  no 
•      people  who  have  gone  before,  what  is  he  ?  " 

"  No  inheritor." 

"  I  did  not  expect  that  answer,  but  I  ac- 
cept it ;  good  !  Then  is  a  people,  that 
invents  no  culture,  in  connection  with  hu- 
manity, or  in  a  condition  of  isolation  ?" 

"  Of  isolation." 

"This  is  the  way  it  stands,  then.  We 
know  that  we  are  in  the  centre,  or  ra- 
ther in  the  advancing  front,  of  a  progressive 
civilization,  because  we  have  received  an  in- 
heritance from  the  Past,  from  Persians, 
Jews,  Egyptians,  Greeks,  and  Romans,  and 
we  transmit  it.  The  Turks  and  Chinese, 
who  are  not  able  to  do  this,  stand  by  them- 
selves and  so  decline.  It  is  not  pride  which 
causes  us  Germans  to  consider  ourselves  in 
the  front  rank  of  civilization,  for  there  is 
no  nation  that  takes  up  more  fully  into, 
itself,  and  carries  on  farther,  the  work  of 
humanity  than  the  German,  or,  we  will  say, 
the  Germanic,  for  your  father-land  is  also 
included." 

"Bravo!  bravo!"  cried  Clodwig,  as 
they  all  rose.  Clodwig  went  to  Sonnen- 
kamp and  said,  — 

"Never  was  a  recommendation  better 
justified  than  mine  of  the  Captain  to  you ; 
and  you  are  in  the  right,  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 


I  have  learned'  something,  —  '  Help  your- 
self1 is  a  grand  new  principle :  it  is  not  a 
moral  principle,  but  a  preceptive  formula. 
See  how  our  friend  teaches  your  son  pre- 
eminently to  help  himself :  this  is  the  new 
Socratic  method." 

Eric  and  Roland  had  become  now  the 
central  objects  of  the  company ;  and  the 
Prince,  coming  up  to  Eric  and  shaking 
hands  with  him,  said,  — 

"  You  are  really  a  teacher  !" 

A  messenger  came  from  the  ladies  to  say 
that  they  would  repair  to  the  saloon,  and 
the  gentlemen  went  there  in  cheerful  mood. 
The  jovial  Austrian  officer,  who  had  elevated 
to  the  nobility  the  daughter  of  a  merchant 
in  the  neighboring  commercial  city,  sang 
some  comic  songs  ;  Pranken  was  prevailed 
upon  to  exhibit  some  sleight-of-hand  tricks 
which  he  had  learned  from  a  juggler,  and 
he  did  it  in  capital  style ;  and  finally,  the 
musician  played  some  tunes  upon  Clodwig's 
old  violin. 

Sonnenkamp  embraced  the  favorable 
opportunity  of  speaking  to  Clodwig,  as  they 
were  sitting  together  in  a  retired  nook  of 
the  large  saloon ;  he  began  with  speaking 
of  the  interest  which  Roland  was  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  excite  in  Clodwig,  and  he 
very  readily  acknowledged  how  great  his 
interest  was.  Sonnenkamp  felt  his  way 
along  very  cautiously,  and  there  was  an 
affecting,  paternal  tone  in  the  manner  in 
which  he  said  that  he  had  nothing  more  to 
desire  in  life  for  himself,  and  that  his  only 
wish  was  to  have  Roland  established  se- 
curely in  an  honorable  position.  Clodwig 
said  he  had  no  doubt  that  he  had  gained, 
and  would  continue  to  gain  still  further,  by 
intercourse  with  Eric  and  by  his  instruction, 
a  knowledge  of  life,  and  an  introduction  into 
it  which  would  make  him  strong  in  himself, 
and  insure  at  some  time  admittance  into 
the  society  of  the  nobility. 

Sonnenkamp  fastened  upon  this  expres- 
sion, "  the  society  of  the  nobility  ;  "  he  had 
not  studied  in  vain  the  natural  history  of 
bribery,  and  Clodwig  must  be  won  over  by 
being  made  one  of  the  nominating  commit- 
tee, and  be  bribed  by  the  payment  of  shares 
in  the  new  fancy-stock ;  but  Clodwig  con- 
ducted himself  as  if  he  had  no  idea  what 
Sonnenkamp  was  aiming  at.  Sonnenkamp 
was  so  confused  by  this,  that  instead  of 
requesting  directly  Clodwig's  aid  in  accom- 
plishing his  purpose,  he  asked  his  advice ; 
Clodwig  discouraged  him  very  decidedly, 
even  saying  plainly  that  it  was  not  expedient 
to  unite  one's  self  with  a  dying  institution, 
in  which  one  would  not  feel  at  home.  Son- 
nenkamp expressed  gratefully  his  sense  of 
obligation.     Clodwig   seized  a  favorable 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


225 


opportunity  to  mingle  among  the  guests, 
and  Sonnenkamp  could  not  again  get  pos- 
session of  him. 

They  drove  home  in  the  bright  daylight, 
the  host  and  hostess  accompanying  them  a 
part  of  the  way.  Sonnenkamp  let  Roland 
take  a  seat  with  his  mother  and  Fräulein 
Perini,  for  he  did  not  want  to  encounter  the 
displeasure  of  his  wife,  who  had  stared  fre- 
quently at  Bella's  splendid  pearl  necklace ; 
he  took  Eric  and  the  Major  with  him  into 
the  carriage. 

"  This,  then,  is  German  society  !  In  our 
worthy  host  there  is  a  good  deal  of  the  pro- 
fessor," said  Sonnenkamp.  No  one  made 
any  reply. 

He  then  said  in  English  to  Eric,  that  he 
deserved  great  praise  for  his  tact,  that  in 
the  presence  of  Roland,  who  was  still  so 
young,  he  put  so  reserved  a  face  on  his 
friendship  for  Clodwig  and  his  beautiful 
wife.  And  he  said,  placing  his  hand  on 
Eric's  shoulder,  — 

"Young  man.  I  could  envy  you  ;  I  know 
very  well  that  you  will  deny  all,  but  I  con- 
gratulate you.  The  old  gentleman  is  right ; 
'  Help  yourself  is  no  moral  principle." 

Eric  could  not  positively  assert  the 
groundlessness  of  this  insinuation,  and  he 
felt  himself  severely  punished,  by  this  in- 
ward condemnation,  for  having  been  guilty 
even  in  the  slightest  passing  thought ;  and 
it  was  consolatory  to  him  to  be  able  to  say : 
I  can  apply  it  to  myself,  I  have  tested  the 
worth  of  '  Help  yourself.' 

Sonnenkamp  also  had  his  reflections  upon 
the  words,  '  Help  yourself,'  and  he  was 
vexed  at  them.  He  was  now  seeking  to 
attain  something,  and  self-help  could  avail 
nothing  in  his  efforts,  but  he  must  accept  the 
help  of  others.  He  wished  now  to  acquire 
an  elevated  position,  and  this  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent thing  from  the  acquisition  of  money, 
land,  property,  and  goods  ;  honor  proceeds 
only  from  persons  united  by  a  social  bond, 
and  therefore  others  must  help;  antl  the 
noblest  and  most  influential  one,  whose  aid 
was  essential,  was  reserved,  and  disinclined 
to  render  him  assistance.  It  did  not  seem 
as  if  Clodwig  could  be  won  over  to  take  his 
part.  % 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  WREATH. 

Repeated  distractions  broke  in  at  short 
intervals  on  the  course  of  study ;  but  Frau 
Ceres  was  made  happy  by  an  opportunity 
to  wear  all  her  ornaments,  and  Fräulein 
Perini  was  happy  in  opening  the  trunk 
which  arrived  from  Paris ;  there  could  not 
be  more  than  two  such  dresses  in  the  world, 


of  which  the  Empress  had  one,  and  Frau 
Ceres  the  other. 

The  old  and  highly  respected  family  of 
the  Wine-count  had  until  now  held  back 
with  unmistakable  reserve  from  any  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  family  at  Villa 
Eden,  but  now,  after  the  dinner-party  at 
Wolfsgarten,  Sonnenkamp  received  an  in- 
vitation to  the  wedding  festival  of  their 
daughter  and  the  son  of  the  Court  Marshal. 

Eric  had  great  difficulty  in  restraining 
his  pupil  from  talking  constantly  about  this 
great  fete,  for  Roland  had  heard  of  the 
fireworks  which  were  to  be  sent  up  from 
the  Rhine  and  the  wooded  hills  around,  and 
every  morning  he  said,  "I  do  hope  the 
weather  will  continue  pleasant ;  it  will  be 
such  a  pity  if  it  doesn't."  He  was  often 
away  with  Pranken  for  several  hours  at  a 
time,  and  returned  very  much  excited,  evi- 
dently keeping  some  secret  from  Eric,  who 
did  not  ask  any  questions. 

On  the  day  of  the  fete,  the  General  with 
whom  the  family  had  become  acquainted  in 
the  capital  arrived. 

It  was  mid-day  when  they  started,  in  three 
carriages,  for  the  house  of  the* Wine-count. 
Frau  Ceres  occupied  one  carriage  with  the 
General.  She  seemed  to  swim  in  a  stream 
of  drapery,  so  full  and  spreading  were  the 
folds  of  her  dress.  In  the  second  and  open 
carriage  rode  Sonnenkamp  with  Fräulein 
Perini  and  Pranken,  in  full  uniform  and 
wearing  two  orders.  He  accompanied  them 
in  order  to  make  his  appearance  as  a  mem- 
ber of  Sonnenkamp's  family.  Sonnenkamp 
said  nothing,  but  his  face  showed  how  grate- 
ful he  was  to  the  young  man,  who  had  not 
only  brought  him  the  General  as  a  guest, 
but  was  taking  upon  himself  his  introduc- 
tion to  the  assemblage.  In  the  third  car- 
riage sat  Roland  with  Eric,  who  did  very 
wrong,  Roland  thought,  not  to  wear  his 
uniform  also. 

A  long  line  of  carriages  waited  before  the 
door  of  the  Wine-count's  villa,  which  stood 
broad  and  stately,  on  the  high  road,  with 
well-arranged,  shady  grounds  on  each  side. 
The  General  gave  Frau  Ceres  his  arm,  and 
they  were  shown,  by  servants  in  rich  livery, 
to  the  garden,  through  paths  bordered  with 
carefully-tended,  fragrant  flowers.  At  the 
foot  of  the  garden  steps  the  Wine-count  met 
them,  and  begged  the  General  to  resign  Frau 
Ceres  to  his  care.  Various  groups  were 
walking  about  the  garden,  or  sitting  on  the 
pleasant  grass-plots. 

The  Wine-count's  wife,  a  tall,  stout  wo- 
man, had  not  heard  in  vain  that  she  looked 
like  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa.  She  was 
dressed  to-day  quite  in  her  imperial  style, 
and  wore  a  splendid  diadem  of  brilliants. 


226 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Sonnenkamp  was  presented  to  the  bridal 
pair.  The  bridegroom  looked  very  weary, 
but  the  bride,  with  her  wreath  of  roses, 
very  animated  ;  much  regret  was  expressed 
that  Manna  was  not  with  the  familv  at  the 
fete. 

The  Court  Marshal  expressed  his  pleas- 
ure at  meeting  Herr  Sonnenkamp  again,  and 
at  making  the  acquaintance  of  his  wife  and 
of  his  handsome  son,  of  whom  he  had  heard 
so  much.  A  glow  was  thrown  over  the 
whole  evening,  when  he  said  rather  loudly, 
with  evident  intention,  that  Sonnenkamp 
had  been  most  honorably  mentioned  at  the 
Prince's  table,  on  the  preceding  day. 
Frau  Ceres,  still  wearing  her  white  cape 
over  her  richly  ornamented  dress,  was  seat- 
ed next  the  Court  marshal. 

The  Wine-chevalier,  wearing  several 
orders,  was  moving  about  among  the  com- 
pany. He  was  a  man  of  good  manners, 
having  been  in  constant  intercourse  with  all 
the  aristocracy  of  Europe.  In  the  time  of 
Napoleon,  when  he  was  a  jovial  travelling 
agent  for  his  father's  firm,  he  had  been  em- 
ployed by  the  wary  Metternich  on  several 
missions,  which  he  had  carried  through  with 
much  skill.  There  was  scarcely  a  French 
General  whom  he  had  not  known,  and  he 
had  even  conversed  twice  with  Napoleon 
himself. 

The  Wine-count  had  three  sons  and  three 
daughters  ;  the  oldest  daughter  was  already 
married  to  an  officer  of  noble  family.  Of 
the  three  sons,  one  had   disappeared  in 
America,    after  having  squandered  large 
sums  of  money  for  his  father ;  the  second 
was  a  member  of  a  theatre  orchestra  in  a 
capital  of  middle  Germany,  and  it  was  said 
he  had  written  to  his  father  that,  for  his 
part,  he  would  not  be  ennobled.    The  third  j 
and  oldest  son  was  the  Wine-chevalier,  who  | 
had  striven  very  eagerly  for  the  honor  of  I 
nobility,  and  was  very  happy  in  his  success.  I 

The  Wine-count  was  most  cordial  in  his  I 
manner ;  there  was  a  remarkable  elasticity  [ 
in  the  movements  of  the  slender,  white-haired  J 
old  man.  He  went  from  guest  to  guest, 
with  an  appropriate  friendly  word  for  each, 
and  on  all  sides  received  doubLe  congratu- 
lations, for  on  this  very  day  the  Prince  had 
ennobled  him.  He  expressed  his  thanks 
very  modestly,  for  he  could  assure  himself 
that  he  might  have  attained  this  honor  two 
years  before,  but  at  that  time  there  was  a 
certain  patriotic  vertigo  abroad  which  had 
seized  even  a  wine-grower.  He  answered 
all  the  congratulations  by  saying  that  the 
Prince's  great  kindness  made  him  extreme- 
ly happy. 

Sonnenkamp  kept  smiling  to  himself, 
looking  forward  to  the  time  when  he  would 


thus  be  courted  also,  and  he  prepared  to 
receive  the  homage  with  modest  thankful 
ncss. 

Frau  Ceres  sat  in  much  discomfort  nexl 
the  Court  Marshal,  who  left  her  to  her  own 
thoughts  when  he  found  that  no  conversa- 
tion could  be  kept  up.  At  last  a  pleasure 
came  to  her  when  the  Cabinet  minister's 
lady  arrived,  and  expressed  great  pleasure 
at  meeting  her,  as  the  Court  Marshal  gave 
his  seat  to  her. 

Still  greater  was  Frau  Ceres'  happiness 
when  Frau  Bella  also  came  up  ;  even  in  this 
circle,  where  there  were  many  of  her  equals, 
she  seemed  to  take  a  leading  position.  She 
was  very  gracious  to  Frau  Ceres,  and  beg- 
ged her  to  take  her  arm  to  go  into  the  gar- 
den-saloon, where  the  rich  outfit  of  the  bride 
was  exhibited ;  there  was  a  universal  ex- 
pression of  admiration,  and  some  glances  of 
envy  from  those  who  returned  from  its  ex- 
amination. 

Frau  Ceres  managed  her  long  train  very 
awkwardly,, while  Bella  held  hers  up  grace- 
fully, and  moved  as  if  she  were  sailing 
through  light  clouds. 

Sonnenkamp  was  greeted  by  the  Russian 
Prince  in  a  most  friendly  manner,  and  de- 
lighted at  his  shaking  hands  with  him  ;  but 
his  pleasure  was  soon  strewn  with  ashes, 
as  the  Prince  said,  — 

"  I  forgot  that  you  were  to  tell  me  some 
particulars  of  the  treatment  of  the  slaves  ; 
I'm  afraid  I  shall  not  find  any  of  them  left, 
when  I  make  up  my  mind  to  visit  America." 

He  soon  turned  away,  as  the  General  was 
introduced  to  him.  Sonnenkamp  began  to 
feel  somewhat  strange  and  neglected  in  the 
circle,  but  his  countenance  brightened  as 
he  saw  Bella  and  Frau  Ceres  walking  to- 
gether so  confidentially. 

"  You  have  hardly  spoken  to  the  Count- 
ess," he  said  to  Eric. 

"  Ah,  I'm  thinking  of  something  quite 
different,"  answered  Eric.  "I  should  like  to 
hear  our  new  Baron  tell  his  servants  :  John, 
Peter,  Michael,  from  this  day  you  must  ad- 
dress me  as  Gracious  Herr,  or  Herr  Baron. 
He  must  appear  ridiculous  to  himself." 

"Perhaps  Doctor  is  a  finer  title,"  re- 
plied Sonnenkamp  sharply;  "oris  that 
born  with  a  person?" 

Eric's  remark  irritated  him,  and  he  would 
have  been  glad  to  send  him  out  of  the  com- 
pany. But  he  suddenly  became  more  ami- 
able, as  Bella  approaehed  and  said  to  him, 

"  Do  you  know,  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  what 
we  are  all  really  here  for,  and  what  this 
whole  fete  means  ?  It  is  a  christening  feast, 
and  our  gracious  Prince  has  played  off  a 
good  joke.  The  Wine-dealer  has  striven  for 
nobility  so   long,  at  last  offering  up  his 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


227 


daughter  as  a  sacrificial  lamb,  that  the 
Priuce  could  not  help  granting  it  to  him  at 
last.  And  isn't  it  good  that  he  has  given 
him  the  name  Herr  von  Endlich  ?  (At  Last.) 

Then  in  a  very  amusing  way  she  went  on 
to  describe  how  fine  it  would  be  if  so  old 
a  candidate  for  baptism  suddenly  cried,  I 
don't  want  that  name,  I  want  another. 

Turning  to  Eric,  she  sketched  the  whole 
assemblage  for  him  with  apt,  though  some- 
what malicious  strokes.  She  ridiculed  with 
most  sarcasm  a  knot  of  young  girls,  who 
evidently  could  not  forget  the  heavy  weight 
of  hair  upon  their  heads,  for  the  hair-dres- 
sers from  the  Baths  and  the  Fortress  had 
been  hurrying,  since  early  morning,  from 
house  to  house,  to  deck  out  the  girls1  heads 
in  proper  company  style.  Bella  mimicked 
the  girls  as  they  said  to  each  other,  "  Please 
tell  me  if  my  chignon  is  still  on." 

With  much  merriment  she  pointed  out  a 
tall,  lank  Englishman,  coming  in  sight 
with  his  stout  wife  and  three  slim  daughters, 
who  wore  long  curls  and  extraordinarily 
brilliant  dresses.  He  lived  in  winter  at  the 
capital,  in  the  summer  at  a  country-seat, 
passing  the  time  in  angling,  while  his  daugh- 
ters were  constantly  drawing.  He  was  con- 
sidered very  rich,  and  his  wealth  had  a  sin- 
gular source ;  many  years  before,  a  brother 
of  his  wife  had  been  sent  to  Botany  Bay, 
and,  being  an  experienced  trader,  had 
there  succeeded  in  establishing  a  large  ex- 
port business,  and  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  family  wealth. 

Bella  was  full  of  charming  humor,  and 
Eric  felt  as  if  he  had  done  her  injustice.  He 
had  listened  to  the  sharp  judgment,  the 
mental  dissection,  of  Bella  from  the  physi- 
cian, when  he  ought  to  have  contested  it  de- 
cidedly. He  looked  at  her  as  if  asking  par- 
don for  something,  and  she,  well  satisfied, 
showed  a  fresh  cheerfulness,  which  was  not 
wanting  in  magic  power.  She  treated  Eric 
with  marked  attention  before  the  whole 
company. 

Count  Clodwig  joined  the  group,  and'  re- 
marked that  he  was  always  surprised  anew 
to  see  how  many  odd  characters  settled  here 
on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  The  Major 
stood  apart  and  looked  at  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp, as  if  he  would  say  :  I  beg  you,  don't 
do  this  too  ;  stay  with  us.  It  would  be  pleas- 
anter  to  me  than  to  give  her  the  prettiest 
bon-bons  which  I  shall  carry  home,  to  be 
able  to  say  to  Fräulein  Milch,  What  they 
say  about  Herr  Sonnenkamp  isn't  true  !  For 
again  had  Fräulein  Milch  penetrated  the 
well-guarded  mystery. 

Eric  pitied,  the  Major,  who  looked  unusu- 
ally dull,  and  he  succeeded  in  getting  at  the 
cause  of  his  low  spirits,  for  the  Major  said, 


"It's  just  as  if  a  Christian  were  to  turn 
Turk ! .  Ah,  you  may  laugh,  but  Fräulein 
Milch  is  right.  All  that  beautiful  money, 
which  has  been  earned  with  so  much  trouble, 
is  now  to  be  thrown  away  on  the  nobles,  and 
we  commoners  may  stand  aside,  and  never 
have  any  more  notice  taken  of  us." 

Eric  silently  pressed  the  Major's  hand, 
and  the  latter  asked :  — 

"But  where's  Roland?" 

Indeed,  where  was  Roland  ?  He  had 
vanished  soon  after  their  arrival,  and  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  evening  came  on 
gradually,  and  wonderfully  beautiful  music 
from  wind  instruments  was  heard  in  the 
thick  shrubbery ;  for  a  while,  the  guests  in 
the  garden  were  silent,  and  then  it  seemed 
as  if  the  music  made  them  only  the  more 
talkative.  Eric  looked  for  Roland,  but  no 
one  could  tell  him  anything  of  him. 

The  music  ceased,  and  darkness  gath- 
ered. On  the  balcony  of  the  house  ap- 
peared a  trumpeter,  in  a  costume  of  the 
middle  ages,  and  sounded  a  call ;  the  com- 
pany repaired  to  the  house,  up  the'  steps 
to  the  great  hall  and  the  adjoining  rooms. 
Here  a  few  seats  were  placed ;  in  the  fore- 
ground, two  great  arm-chairs,  dressed  with 
flowers,  for  the  bride  and  bridegroom ;  be- 
hind them,  a  line  of  chairs  for  the  oldest  and 
most  distinguished  guests. 

Frau  Ceres  was  conducted  to  a  seat  -near 
Bella ;  Fräulein  Perini  had  managed  very 
adroitly  to  get  near  her  and  pull  gently  at 
her  cloak.  Frau  Ceres  understood,  and  all 
eyes,  which  had  been  resting  on  the  bridal 
pair,  now  turned  to  her.  Such  ornaments, 
imitating  a  wreath  of  wheat-ears  of  which 
each  grain  was  a  great  diamond,  such  a 
dress,  sown  thick  with  pearls  and  diamonds, 
were  never  before  seen ;  a  long-continued 
murmur  of  applause  ran  through  the  assem- 
bly. 

Frau  Ceres  stood  by  her  chair,  as  if 
rooted  to  the  spot,  till  Bella  begged  her  to 
sit  down ;  she  looked  smilingly  at  the  splen- 
did jewels :  it  was  all  very  well  for  the 
American  woman  to  put  those  on,  but  she 
couldn't  put  on  such  a  neck  and  arms  as  her 
own. 

Now  it  appeared  that  one  of  the  walls  of 
the  room  was  only  a  curtain,  which  was  pres- 
ently drawn  up.  Vine-dressers  were  dis- 
covered, who  sang  and  spoke  praises  of 
the  family,  and  finally  presented  a  myrtle 
crown. 

The  curtain  fell  amidst  the  expressions 
of  delight  of  the  whole  company,  and  as 
they  were  about  to  rise,  a  voice  behind  the 
curtain  cried :  — 

"  Remain  seated  !  " 

The  curtain  rose  again,  and,  behind  a 


228 


THE  COUNTRY-nOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


thin  gauze,  Apollo  was  seen  among  shep- 
herds and  vine-dressers,  and  Apollo  was 
Roland  ;  the  curtain  had  to  be  twice  raised 
again,  for  all  were  enraptured  with  the  tab- 
leau, and  especially  with  Roland's  god-like 
appearance.  Bella  nodded  exultantly  to 
Eric,  who  was  standing  apart ;  but  he  felt 
as  if  benumbed,  as  he  asked  himself 
what  effect  all  this  would  have  on  Roland, 
and  how  Roland  could  have  concealed  it 
from  him.  It  was  not  long  before  Roland 
joined  the  company  in  his  ordinary  dress  ;  he 
was  admired  and  praised  on  all  sides,  and 
nearly  taken  off  his  feet. 

Fran  Cares  was  congratulated  almost 
more  than  Roland,  on  her  happiness  in  hav- 
ing a  son  of  such  divine  beauty ;  repeated 
regrets  were  expressed  that  her  daughter 
was  not  at  the  fete.  Frau  Ceres  received 
all  this  most  amiably,  saying  constantly  : 
"  I  thank  you  most  sincerely,  you  are  very 
kind."  Fräulein  Perini  had  taught  her  her 
lesson. 

New  rooms  were  opened,  where  tables 
were  spread,  and  the  guests  seated  them- 
selves. 

Roland  went  to  Eric. 

"  Are  you  the  only  one  to  say  nothing  to 
me  ?  "  he  asked. 

Eric  was  silent. 

"  Ah,"  Roland  continued,  "  it  has  cost  me 
much  trouble  to  conceal  anything  from  you, 


and  still  more  to  be  attentive  for  these  last 
few  days,  but  I  wanted  to  surprise  you." 

Eric  recovered  himself,  and  decided  that 
it  would  be  best  not  to  lay  much  stress  on 
the  matter,  so  that  it  might  be  less  likely  to 
have  any  hurtful  effect ;  he  only  warned  Ro- 
land to  be  careful  not  to  take  too  much 
wine.  The  boy  was  so  full  of  happiness 
that  he  preferred  to  sit  near  Eric,  to  show 
him  that  he  was  moderate,  rather  than  to 
take  a  seat  which  was  reserved  for  him  at 
the  table  of  the  bride. 

Pranken,  who,  with  the  portrait  painter's 
aid,  had  arranged  the  tableau,  was  in  a 
state  of  singular  excitement  this  evening, 
for  the  idea  kept  ringing  in  his  head  that  he 
might  have  married  the  Wine-count's  beau- 
tiful daughter ;  here  was  new- varnished  no- 
bility, to  be  sure,  but  everything  was  made 
sure  of;  here  would  be  now  an  attractive 
widow,  or,  better  still,  an  attractive  unhap- 
py wife.  He  drove  the  thoughts  away, 
however,  saying  to  himself  that  he  loved 
Manna. 

As  a  former  comrade  of  the  bridegroom, 
and  as  friend  of  the  family,  Pranken  pro- 
posed the  toast  to  the  bridal  pair ;  he  spoke 
well,  and  in  a  humorous  tone,  as  was  best, 
and  the  company  were  well  pleased. 

The  discharge  of  a  cannon  gave  notice 
that  the  fireworks  were  beginning,  and  the 
guests  betook  themselves  to  the  veranda  and 
the  garden. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


229 


CHAPTER  X. 
FIREWORKS  AND  THEN  DARKNESS. 

Bella  suddenly  stood  by  Eric's  side,  with- 
out bis  noticing  her  approach. 

"  You  are  unusually  grave  to-day,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Iam  not  used  to  the  confusion  of  such 
a  fete." 

"I  always  feel  as  if  you  would  have 
something  to  say  to  me,"  she  murmured 
lower. 

Eric  was  silent,  and  Bella  continued : — 

"  Does  it  seem  to  you  as  it  does  to  me, 
when  you  see  your  nearest  friend  in  a  great 
assembly,  as  if  you  met  in  a  strange  land, 
or  as  if  struggling  in  a  river,  in  which  you 
are  drowning  ?  " 

.  "  Ah  !  Bravo  !  "  many  voices  cried  sud- 
denly. A  flight  of  rockets  was  sent  off, 
while  music  was  heard,  and  a  trumpet  across 
the  river  took  up  the  strain,  and  echoed  it. 
Far  away  they  saw  the  people  from  the 
towns  and  villages  about,  standing  on  the 
river-banks,  their  faces  lighted  by  the  glare. 

"  Ah,"  exclaimed  Bella,  as  all  was  dark 
again,  "Ave  are  all  nothing  but  slaves! 
If  we  could  live  like  that,  that  would  be  life 
indeed !  to  burn  like  that  rocket  in  the  free 
air,  then  come,  darkness  and  death ;  ye  are 
welcome!" 

Eric  trembled ;  he  did  not  know  how  it 
happened,  but  he  was  holding  Bella's  hand 
fast  in  his. 

Again  bright  fires  rose  frtjm  river  and 
hills.  It  seemed  as  if  all  those  people  who 
were  looking  on  from  the  distant  shore 
must  have  seen  Eric's  hand  in  Bella's.  Eric 
drew  back  with  a  start.  The  Prince  came 
up,  and  Bella  immediately  took  his  arm.  j 
Eric  was  left  alone,  and  as  he  saw  Bella 
walking  up  and  down  the  road  before  the 
house,  leaning  on  the  Prince's  arm,  he  tried 
to  recollect  whether  he  had  not  said  to  her, 
I  love  you.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
spoken  aloud,  and  yet  it  could  not  be.  Fire- 
wheels,  ihe  monogram  of  the  bridal-pair, 
Roman-candles,  were  exhibited,  and  at  last 
from  a  boat  on  the  Rhine  rose  a  great  golden 
wine-flask,  which  burst  in  the  air,  and  scat- 
tered a  shower  of  sparkling  drops  of  light.  I 
Music  resounded,  and  from  the  shore  a ' 
shout  was  heard,  as  if  all  the  waves  had 
found  a  voice. 

Eric's  brain  reeled ;  he  knew  not  where 
he  was,  nor  who  he  was.  Suddenly  he  felt 
an  arm  laid  on  his  own :  it  was  Clodwig. 
Eric  would  have  liked  to  kneel  before  him, 
but  he  felt  unworthy  to  utter  a  word,  and 
he  could  only  make  an  inward  vow :  I  will 
send  a  bullet  through  my  heart,  rather  than 


allow  it  ever  again  to  thrill  with  this  excite- 
ment. 

Clodwig  spoke  of  Roland,  saying  that  he 
could  not  think  it  right  or  wise  that  he 
should  be  thrust  into  a  sphere  strange  to 
him.  Eric  answered  at  random ;  Clodwig 
believed  that  he  must  know  of  the  project, 
while  Eric  thought  he  was  alluding  to  the 
military  profession ;  and  he  seemed  so  dis- 
tracted and  inwardly  excited,  that  Clodwig 
admonished  his  young  friend  to  exert  him- 
self less  strenuously,  and  not  to  torment 
himself  needlessly. 

Eric  avoided  saying  good-night  to  Bella. 

It  was  late  when  they  drove  back,  in  the 
same  manner  as  they  had  come,  except  that 
the  Cabinetsrath  and  his  wife  accompanied 
them,  to  spend  the  night  at  Villa  Eden. 

The  Minister  rode  with  Sonnenkamp,  and 
the  conversation  naturally  fell  on  the  fete, 
and  on  the  dissolution  of  the  old  and  re- 
spected firm  of  wine  dealers,  since  Ijhe 
Wine-count  was  now  about  to  sell  at  auction 
his  whole  stock.  The  Ministers  lady  said 
that  Bella  had  told  her  that  she  intended  to 
write  Eric's  mother  and  aunt  for  a  visit; 
Pranken  pretended  to  know  of  this  plan,  but 
was  inwardly  very  much  surprised.  Now 
that  they  were  alone  and  need  not  be  reserved 
with  each  other,  the  Minister's  lady  said 
emphatically,  that  no  one  could  bring  about 
the  conferring  of  the  new  dignity  on  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  more  easily  and  simply  than 
the  Professor's  widow.  It  was  not  exactly 
decided  upon,  but  it  was  hinted  to  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  that  he  might  establish  the 
first  claim  of  hospitality  by  inviting  the  la- 
dies to  Villa  Eden. 

Sonnenkamp  smiled  to  himself,  for  he  had 
a  further  plan  of  making  Frau  Dournay  use- 
ful :  the  General  had  said  several  times  that 
she  was  a  trusted  friend  of  his  sister,  the 
Superior  of  the  island  convent ;  here  were 
two  wires  to  be  pulled. 

In  the  third  carriage  Eric  rode  again  with 
Roland ;  they  sat  silent  for  a  long  time,  as 
the  carriage  rolled  slowly  on.  At  last  a 
voice  called  out : — 

"  Good  evening,  Herr  Captain  !  " 

Eric  ordered  the  driver  to  stop ;  it  was 
Claus's  son,  the  cooper,  who  was  walking 
along  the  wood.  He  brought  Eric  a  greet- 
ing from  Martin  Knopf  at  Mattenheim,  and 
said  that  he  had  been  there  with  a  message 
from  his  father,  asking  Knopf  to  appear  be- 
fore the  jury  the  next  day,  as  a  witness  in 
his  defence.  Roland  rubbed  his  eyes,  and 
looked  about  him  as  if  he  were  in  a  strange 
world.  He  asked  the  cooper  to  get  into  the 
carriage  with  them.  The  cooper  thanked 
him,  but  declined,  and  went  on  to  say  how 
wonderful  it  had  been,  as  he  came  over  the 


230 


THE  COUNTRY-HOIJSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


hills  from  Mattenheim,  to  see,  just  as  he  left 
the  woods,  the  strange  fires  mounting  to 
heaven  from  the  Rhine  far-below,  and  he  had 
stood  just  where  the  roeks  eehoedthe  cannon. 
He  held  out  his  hand  to  Eric,  but  not  to 
Roland. 

As  the  two  drove  on  again,  Roland  said : 
"Then  Claus  has  heard  the  cannon  in 
his  prison,  and  perhaps  he  saw  the  fire- 
works too.  Ah,  he  has  not  a  single  dog  to 
speak  to  near  him.  IVe  often  been  sorry 
that  he  had  to  wander  about  so  constantly 
through  the  fields  by'day  and  night,  but  now 
he  must  long  for  that  old  weariness.  And 
while  he  sits  there  in  prison,  everything  is 
growing  outside,  and  the  thieves  of  hares 
and  foxes  know,  that  no  one  knows  their 
burrows  so  well  as  he :  and  I  do  believe  he 
is  innocent.  Ah,  why  must  there  be  poor, 
unhappy  men  ;  why  can't  the  whole  world  be 
happy  ?  " 

For  the  first  time,  Eric  saw  that  he  must 
advise  Roland  not  to  say  anything  to  his 
father  of  these  thoughts  about  the  huntsman, 
and  about  the  poor  and  unfortunate. 

Eric  felt  quite  satisfied  that  all  the  praise 
Roland  had  received  for  his  appearance  as 
Apollo  had  done  no  harm. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  REPRESSED  HEART. 

"  "What  are  we,  when  judged  by  our  most 
secret  thoughts  ?  " 

So  had  Eric  written  in  answer  to  a  dainty 
note  which  Bella  had  written  to  him.  She 
had  requested  him  to  send  the  coat  in  which 
she  had  painted  him,  as  something  peculiar 
in  its  cut  had  yet  to  be  introduced,  in  order 
to  give  the  finishing  touch  to  the  portrait. 
The  way  in  which  she  had  signed  her  name 
startled  Eric ;  there  was  her  name,  Bella, 
but  instead  of  her  surname,  an  interroga- 
tion point  between  two  brackets.  She  had 
scratched  this  out,  as  if  thinking  better  of 
it,  but  it  was  still  to  be  perceived. 

She  put  the  coat  upon  the  lay-figure  in 
her  studio  ;  it  affected  her  strangely,  and  she 
stood  there  now,  with  her  hand  placed  upon 
the  shoulder  of  the  figure. 

"  What  are  we,  judged  by  our  most  secret 
thoughts  ?  11  had  Eric  written,  and  it  seemed 
now  as  if  the  words  came  from  the  mouth 
of  the  model  before  her. 

Bella  shuddered,  and  was  seized  with  a 
deadly  trembling,  for  as  she  stood  there 
with  her  gaze  fastened  upon  the  floor,  and 
her  hand  laid  upon  the  garment  of  the  man 
not  her  husband,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she 
should  sink  to  the  earth.  At  this  instant, 
her  whole  life  unfolded  itself  to  her  view. 

The  days  of  childhood  —  there  was  no 


definite  image  of  these.  The  teachers 
praised  her  quick  comprehension  ;  a  French 
bonne  was  dismissed,  and  a  strict  English 
governess  received  into  the  family ;  Bella 
learned  languages  easily,  and  good  manners 
seemed  natural  to  her.  Her  smart  repar- 
tees, when  she  was  very  young,  were  re- 
peated admiringly,  and  this  flattered  her 
vanity,  and  extinguished  all  childish  ingen- 
uousness. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen  visiting  the  house, 
or  meeting  her  casually  in  different  places, 
praised  her  beauty  in  her  hearing.  She  was 
confirmed,  but  the  holy  ceremony  appeared 
to  her  only  as  the  sign  of  her  deliverance 
from  the  nursery,  when  she  must  lay  aside 
her  short  dresses  and  put  on  long  ones ; 
and  when  going  up  to  the  altar,  the  thought 
which  predominated  in  her  was,  Thou  art 
the  fairest  one.  As  the  bishop  had  taken 
tea  the  evening  before  with  her  parents,  he 
was  not  to  her  a  supernatural  being  as  to 
the  rest,  for  he  had  spoken  familiarly  with 
her,  and  she  appeared  to  herself  to  be,  in 
the  church,  the  central  point  of  all  observa- 
tion. 

Her  father  yielded  to  her  wishes,  and 
Bella,  at  fourteen  years  of  age,  was  intro- 
duced the  next  winter  into  society.  She 
made  a  brilliant  appearance,  and  was  much 
courted ;  everybody  spoke  with  admiration 
of  the  air  of  fresh  youth  that  hovered  around 
her.  But  she  early  exhibited  a  sort  of  cold- 
ness, so  that  6he  was  nicknamed  the  mer- 
maiden,  and  in  her  eye  there  was  what 
might  be  called  a  cold  fire.  Even  the  reign- 
ing Prince  singled  her  out.  She  still  kept 
the  engagement-card  of  her  first  court-ball 
as  a  sacred  relic,  and  with  it  a  withered 
bouquet. 

Now  followed  an  unbroken  chain  of  hom- 
age and  attention.  Bella,  with  her  ready 
and  apt  replies,  was  the  life  of  the  circle  in 
which  she  moved.  While  yet  a  child,  her 
beauty  had  been  praised  in  her  own  hearing, 
and  now  that  she  was  a  woman,  her  remark- 
able mental  powers  were  extolled,  either 
directly  or  indirectly,  so  that  she  was  sure 
to  be  informed  .of  it.  Her  striking  remarks 
and  keen  criticisms  were  quoted,  and  her 
witticisms  passed  around.  In  this  way  she 
had  acquired  the  reputation  of  great  knowl- 
edge, which,  with  her  spirited  piano  playing, 
and  above  all,  her  skill  in  painting,  caused 
her  to  be  regarded  as  a  social  wonder,  and 
to  be  held  up  as  a  pattern  to  many  a  young 
girl  who  came  out  after  her  in  society. 

Before  she  was  sixteen,  she  had  refused 
many  offers  of  marriage,  and  she  smiled 
when  she  heard  of  the  betrothal  of  one  and 
another,  for  she  could  say,  You  could  have 
married  this  man,  if  you  had  wished  to. 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


231 


Her  mother  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
her  married  young,  but  her  father  was  not 
willing  that  his  child  should  be  separated 
from  him  so  early;  he  hoped  that  some 
prince  of  the  collateral  branch  would  unite 
himself  with  her  in  marriage. 

Her  seventeenth  birthday  was  ushered 
in  by  a  morning  serenade  from  the  band  of 
the  Guards,  and  congratulations  poured  in 
from  all  sides ;  but  if  she  could  have  been 
seen  then,  as  the  tones  of  the  music  awak- 
ened her  from  sleep,  and  a  new  thought 
stirred  within  her,  her  large  eyes  would 
have  presented  a  look  different  from  any 
ever  seen  in  them  before.  The  thought  was, 
I  have  no  belief  in  love.  All  this  singing  and 
talking  of  the  power  of  love  is  nonsensical 
romance  !  Her  mother's  teaching  had  con- 
tributed not  a  little  to  produce  this  convic- 
tion ;  she  had  early  uprooted  the  influences 
of  love,  perpetually  representing  to  her 
daughter  that  the  main  thing  was,  to  make 
a  brilliant  match ;  and  Bella,  in  fact,  had 
never  loved  any  one,  for  she  insisted  upon 
the  submission  of  him  towards  whom  she 
felt  any  preference.  From  one  of  her 
mother's  cousins  she  heard  suggestions  of 
an  opposite  nature  ;  she  frequently  said,  half 
satirically  and  half  seriously,  that  the  only 
right  love  was  that  directed  towards  a  man 
of  a  lower  condition.  If  you  should  love 
the  artist  in  whose  studio  you  work,  or  your 
teacher  of  music  or  of  language,  that  would 
be  genuine  love.  But  it  seemed  to  Bella 
as  if  any  special  attachment  to  a 'teacher  was 
like  entertaining  a  love  for  a  livery-servant, 
or  even  for  a  being  of  a  different  species, 
and  choosing  him  for  a  husband. 

On  that  seventeenth  birthday,  there  was 
perceptible,  for  the  first  time,  that  cold, 
glassy,  Medusa-look,  which  regarded  men 
with  indilference,  as  if  they  were  nothing 
but  shadows ;  but  no  one  remarked  it,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  on  that  day  something  was 
paralyzed  within  her  which  would  never 
again  feel  the  stirrings  of  life. 

Before  she  was  twenty,  after  the  year  of 
mourning  for  her  father  had  elapsed,  with 
feelings  already  cold  and  benumbed,  Bella 
withdrew  from  society,  entering  it  only  oc- 
casionally, as  if  she  were  performing  a  bur- 
densome duty.  She  studied,  she  painted,  she 
practised  music,  she  occupied  herself  with 
artists,  scholars,  and  statesmen ;  and  she 
wore  a  constant  rigidity  of  countenance  and 
look,  except  when  she  was  flinging  around 
her  criticisms,  which  always  produced  a 
greater  impression  from  the  fact  that  her 
deep,  masculine  voice  was  in  striking  con- 
trast with  her  feminine  appearance. 

It  created  considerable  excitement,  when 
it  was  understood  that  Bella  had  removed 


the  opposition  of  her  parents  to  her  younger 
sister's  marrying  before  her.  Bella  stood 
before  the  altar  by  the  side  of  her  sister, 
and  through  her  sister's  bridal  veil  she  saw 
the  dark  brown  eye  of  the  Adjutant  Gener- 
al, who  had  been  recently  made  a  widower, 
fixed  upon  herself.  She  moved  her  lips 
slightly,  saying  to  herself  with  self-rejoicing 
pride,  You  will  woo  me  in  vain.  She  took 
delight  in  wounding,  disturbing,  break- 
ing hearts,  by  turns  enticing  and  then  re- 
pelling them.  She  had  said  to  her  father, 
I  should  be  glad  to  marry,  if  one  can  like 
to  do  what  one  cannot  bring  his  mind  to  do  ; 
but  to  stand  up  before  the  altar  and  say 

yes,  for  life  and  for   death!  1  was 

frightened  when  I  heard  my  sister  say  that, 
and  I  thought  that  I  must  cry  out,  "No! 
No  !  No  !  "  And  I  do  not  answer  for  my- 
self, that  I  should  not  involuntarily  say  no. 

She  proffered  herself  as  companion  of  an 
invalid  princess,  who  was  ordered  to  re- 
side for  a  year  at  Madeira ;  on  returning, 
after  the  death  of  the  princess  at  the  island, 
Bella  smiled  when  she  was  told  of  the  Ad- 
jutant General's  marriage.  She  could  not 
complain  that  suitors  gradually  grew  fewer 
in  number,  but  still  she  was  vexed  at  it. 

She  took  nöw  a  journey  with  two  English 
ladies  to  Italy  and  Greece,  with  Lootz  for 
her  courier.  She  spent  a  whole  winter  at 
Constantinople,  and  the  malicious  tongues 
at  the  capital  said,  that  she  was  after  a  man 
of  exalted  position,  and  that  everything  else 
was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  her ;  that  she 
would  marry  a  gray-bearded  Pacha.  On 
her  return  Bella  generally  appeared  dressed 
in  satin. 

Then  came  Clodwig's  suit ;  and,  to  the 
great  surprise  of  the  whole  "^capital,  the  be- 
trothal and  the  wedding  took  place  within 
four  weeks  of  each  other.  Bella  retired 
with  her  husband  to  Wolfsgarten,  not  es- 
sentially changed  by  marriage,  and  without 
gaining  that  full  development  of  the  nature 
it  gives  to  woman.  .What  was  there  still  to 
be  developed?  She  was  accomplished,  and 
she  was  specially  happy,  so  far  as  happiness 
was  possible  to  her,  in  perceiving  —  what 
she  had  not  looked  for,  although  she  hoped 
to  find  it  —  Clodwig's  nobility  of  soul. 

For  the  first  time,  she  felt  humble  and 
modest ;  her  life  was  peaceful  and  retired, 
and  the  days  flowed  on  in  uniform  round. 
Clodwig  was  as  attentive,  as  sympathizing, 
and  as  full  of  devotion  as  at  first ;  a  com- 
posure and  a  steadfastness,  such  as  is  as- 
signed only  to  the  gods,  was  the  prevailing 
characteristic  of  his  spirit.  He  was  person- 
ally considerate  and  tender,  to  an  extreme 
degree ;  and  he  exhibited  his  vehement  na- 
ture, which  found  vent  in  the  strongest  ex- 


232 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


pressions,  only  when  dwelling  upon  mat- 
ters of  universal  interest.  Bella  recognized 
in  this  only  a  justifiable  excitement,  for 
Clodwig's  active  life  had  been  passed  in  a 
petty,  crippled  period,  and  wasted  in  the 
trifling  affairs  of  a  liliputian  Principality, 
while  he  himself  was  fitted  for  grander  and 
more  universal  affairs. 

Clodwig  often  reproached  himself  for  the 
firm  confidence  that  he  had  entertained  dur- 
ing his  whole  life,  that  the  Idea  would,  of 
itself,  become  realized ;  and  he  now  saw, 
when  it  was  too  late,  that  one  must  plunge 
headlong  into  the  current  of  cooperating  in- 
fluences. As  soon  as  he  went  again  among 
men,  and  especially  when  he  entered  the 
court-circle,  he  was  always  gentle  and  in- 
dulgent. He  was  full  of  admiration  of  his 
wife's  talents,  and  if  at  any  time  he  moder- 
ately criticized  and  set  forth  her  superficial 
and  external  mode  of  looking  at  things,  she 
was  for  an  instant  inwardly  disturbed  ;  but 
when  she  looked  upon  the  noble,  refined 
form  of  the  old  man,  all  frowardness  van- 
ished. She  was  happy  to  see  herself,  and  to 
make  the  world  see,  how  she  could  cherish 
a  great  and  good  man.  She  knew  that  she 
would  be  watched ;  and  the  world  should 
never  have  occasion  to  remark  invidiously 
upon  her  conduct. 

All  at  once  there  had  now  entered  this 
peaceful  circle  a  man  who  disposed  of  her, 
her  husband,  and  the  whole  house,  without 
effort  and  with  irresistible  power ;  and  she 
had  been  opposed  to  him  at  first,  had  ex- 
pressed that  opposition  to  Clodwig,  and 
"had  zealously  labored  against  his  becoming 
established  in  the  neighborhood.  But  as 
Clodwig  had  brought  into  prominent  notice, 
with  an  enthusiastic  kindness  of  heart,  the 
sterling  traits  of  this  man's  character,  had 
even  drawn  him  towards  herself  against  her 
will,  she  resigned  herself  to  the  pleasure  of 
this  enlivening  intercourse. 

Thus  stood  Bella  before  the  portrait  to 
which  she  still  delayed  to  put  the  finishing 
touch,  inwardly  chafing,  and  thoroughly 
vexed  with  herself.  She,  the  mature  in  ex- 
perience, to  be  the  subject  of  such  a  girl- 
ish infatuation!  "  girlish  infatuation,"  she 
called  it,  and  yet  she  could  not  free  herself 
from  it.  Was  it  because  her  self-love  was* 
wounded  ;  was  it  because,  for  the  first  time, 
she  had  stretched  out  her  hand  and  it  was 
not  taken  ? 

Her  large  eyes  sparkled,  and  whoever 
had  beheld  her  now  would  have  seen  the 
Medusa-look. 

She  left  the '  studio  with  all  speed,  and 
went  to  her  dressing-room.  She  stood  there 
before  the  large  mirror,  and  let  down  her 
luxuriant  hair,  staring  into  the  mirror, 


while  upon  Tier  closely  pressed  lips  lay  the 
question,  Art  thou  then  so  old  ?  She 
opened  her  lips,  like  one  ill  with  fever,  like 
one  parched  with  thirst,  panting  to  drink. 
Her  eyes  beamed  with  a  joyous  brightness, 
as  she  said  to  herself :  Thou  art  beautiful. 
Thou  art  able  to  judge  of  thyself  as  impar- 
tially as  thou  wouldest  a  stranger.  But 
what  means  this  silly  infatuation  ? 

She  took  the  long  tresses  of  her  hair  in 
both  hands,  and  held  them  crossed  under 
her  chin ;  she  was  terrified  as  she  now  per- 
ceived, for  the  first  time,  how  strong  a  like- 
ness she  bore  to  the  bust  of  Medusa  in  the 
guest-chamber  above. 

"Yes,  I  will  be  Medusa!  He  shall  be 
shattered,  turned  into  stone,  annihilated ! 
He  shall  kneel  to  me,  and  then  I  will  tram- 
ple him  under  my  feet !  " 

She  raised  her  foot,  but  immediately  cov- 
ered her  face  with  both  hands,  while  tears 
flowed  from  her  eyes. 

"Forgive,  forgive  my  pride,  my  mad- 
ness !  11  was  the  cry  uttered  within  her. 
Fierce  irritation  and  passionate  emotion, 
pride  and  humility,  contended  together 
within  her  breast,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
chill  of  that  morning  serenade  had  been  all 
at  once  removed,  and  the  heart  had  unfolded 
itself,  as  some  long-closed  calyx  unfolds  its 
petals.  A  longing  sprang  up  within  her  — 
a  longing  for  home,  as  in  some  wayward 
child  who  has  run  away  from  its  parents 
into  the  woods  —  a  longing  for  some  place 
of  shelter  and  rest,  —  a  home  :  where  is  it  ? 
where  ? 

She  yearned  for  a  soul  to  which  she  could 
lay  open  all  her  own  soul. 

"  Forgive  me  !  forgive  !  "  was  echoed  and 
re-echoed  within  her.  At  first  it  was  di- 
rected to  Clodwig,  and  now  to  Eric. 

"  Forgive  !  forgive  my  pride  !  But  thou 
canst  not  know  how  proud  I  have  been : 
and  I  sacrificed  to  thee  more  than  a  thou- 
sand others,  more  than  the  whole  world,  can 
even  conceive  and  comprehend.1' 

She  shuddered  at-  being  alone,  rang  for 
her  dressing-maid,  and  made  an  elaborate 
toilet. 

"  Tell  me  how  old  I  am.  Do  you  not 
know  ?  "  she  suddenly  asked. 

The  dressing-maid  was  startled  at  the 
question,  and  not  returning  an  immediate 
answer,  Bella  continued  :  — 

"  I  have  never  been  young." 

"  O  my  gracious  lady,  you  are  still  young, 
and  you  never  looked  better  than  you  do 
now." 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  said  Bella,  throw- 
ing back  her  head,  for  a  voice  within  her 
said  :  Why  shouldest  thou  not  be  also  young 
for  once  ?    Thou  art !    Thou  art  what  thou 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


233 


canst  not  help  being ;  and  let  the  world  be 
what  it  must  be  too. 

Leaving  the  house,  she  went  around  the 
garden,  seeming  to  herself  to  be  a  captive. 
Unconsciously  she  went  into  the  room  on 
the  ground-floor,  and  as  she  stood  near  the 
unearthed  antiquities,  a  voice  within  her 
said :  — 

"  What  are  all  these  ?  What  are  these 
vessels  ?  Lava-ashes  !  all  ashes  !  What  is 
all  this  antiquarian  rummaging?  What  is 
the  use  of  this  picking  up  of  old  buried 
trash,  this  perpetual  thinking  and  talking 
about  humanity  and  progress  ?  all  foreign, 
dead,  a  conversation  over  a  death-bed ; 
nothing  but  distraction,  forgetfulness ;  no 
life,  no  hope,  no  future  ;  never  towards  the 
day,  always  towards  the  night,  —  the  night  of 
the  past,  and  the  ideal  of  humanity.  But 
I  am  not  the  past,  I  am  not  an  ideal  of  hu- 
manity. I  am  the  to-day,  I  will  be  the  to- 
day.   Ah  me,  where  am  I !  " 

•She  went  into  the  garden,  and  watched 
two  butterflies  hovering  hither  and  thither 
in  the  air,  now  alighting  upon  the  flowers, 
now  coming  together,  separating  again,  and 
again  uniting. 

"  This  is  life  !  "  was  the  cry  within  her. 
"  This  is  life  !  they  grub  up  no  ancient  rel- 
ics, they  live1  with  no  antiquities." 

Then  came  a  swallow  darting  down, 
seized  one  of  the  butterflies,  and  vanished. 

What  is  thy  life  to  thee  now,  thou  poor 
butterfly  ? 

Below,  over  the  Rhine,  clouds  of  smoke 
from  the  steamboats  were  floating  in  the 
air,  and  Bella  thought :  — 

"  If  one  could  only  thus  fly  away  !  What 
do  we  here  ?  AVe  heat  with  our  blood  this 
dead  earth,  so  that  it  may  have  some  little 
life.  Our  life-breath  is  nothing  but  a  puff 
of  vapor  that  mingles  with  thousands  of 
other  vaporous  films  ;  this  we  call  life,  and 
it  vanishes  like  the  thousands  "  

The  children  of  the  laborers  upon  the 
estate,  coming  out  of  school,  saluted  the 
gracious  lady. 

Bella  stared  at  them.  What  becomes  of 
these  children  ?  What  is  the  use  of  this 
fatuous  renewing  of  humanity  ? 
t  As  if  to  conceal  herself  from  herself,  she 
buried  her  face  in  a  flowering  shrub.  She 
left  the  park ;  she  saw  in  the  court  outside 
the  dove  cooing  about  his  mate.  The  beau- 
tiful mate  was  so  coy,  picked  up  its  food  so 
quietly,  hardly  paying  any  attention  to  the 
tender  gurgling,  and  then  flew  away  to  the 
house-top,  where  she  trimmed  her  feathers. 
The  dove  flew  after  his  mate,  but  she  shook 
her  head  again  and  took  flight. 

Then  as  Bella  was  gazing  with  a  fixed 
look,  she  saw  a  servant  yoking  some  oxen. 


He  first  placed  a  pad  upon  the  head  of  the 
beast,  and  over  that  a  wooden  yoke. 

"  This  is  the  world !  This  is  the  world," 
said  a  voice  within  her.  "A  pad  between 
yoke  and  head,  a  pad  of  thoughts,  of  got-up 
feelings." 

The  servant  was  astounded  to  see  the 
gracious  lady  staring  so  fixedly,  and  now 
she  asked  him  :  — 

"  Does  it  not  hurt  them  ?  " 

He  did  not  understand  what  she  meant, 
and  she  was  obliged  to  repeat  the  question  ; 
he  now  replied  :  — 

"The  ox  don't  know  anything  different, 
he's  made  for  just  this.  Since  the  gracious 
Herr  has  let  the  double  yoke  be  taken  off, 
and  each  ox  has  now  his  own  yoke  to  him- 
self, they're  harder  to  manage,  but  they 
draw  a  deal  easier  than  when  they  were 
double-yoked." 

Bella  shivered. 

' 1  Double  yoke  —  single  y oke, "  was  sound- 
ing in  her  ears,  and  suddenly  it  seemed  to 
her  as  if  it  were  night,  and  she  herself  only 
a  ghost  wandering  around.  This  house, 
these  gardens,  this  world,  all  is  but  a  realm 
of  shadows  that  vanishes  away. 

It  was  terribly  sultry,  and  Bella  felt  as  if 
she  should  suffocate.  Then  a  fresh  current 
of  air  streamed  over  the  height,  a  thunder- 
storm unexpectedly  came  up,  and  Bella  had 
hardly  reached  the  house  before  there  came 
thunder,  lightning,  and  a  driving  rain. 

Bella  stood  at  the  window  and  stared  out 
into  the  distance,  and  then  up  at  an  old  ash- 
tree,  whose  branches  were  dashing  about  in 
every  direction,  and  whose  trunk  was  bend- 
ing from  the  gale.  The  tree  inclined  itself 
towards  the  house,  as  if  it  must  there  get 
help.  Bella  thought  to  herself,  —  For 
years  and  years  this  tree  has  been  rooting 
itself  here  and  thriving,  and  no  tempest  can 
wrench  it  away  and  lop  off  its  boughs. 
Does  it  know  that  this  storm  will  pass  over, 
and  serve  only  to  give  it  new  strength  ?  I 
am  such  a  tree  also,  and  I  stand  •firm. 
Come  tempest,  come  lightning  and  thunder, 
come  beating  rain,  neither  shall  you  uproot 
me,  nor  lop  off  my  boughs  ! 

"  Eric  !  "  she  suddenly  exclaimed  aloud  to 
herself.    Clodwig  now  entered,  saying,  — 
"  Dear  wife,  I  have  been  looking  for  you." 

Bella's  soul  was  deeply  moved  when  she 
heard  him  call  her  "  dear  wife."  Clodwig 
showed  her  a  letter  that  he  had  been  writing 
to  the  Professor's  widow,  inviting  her,  ac- 
cording to  Bella's  expressed  desire,  to  make 
a  visit  of  several  weeks  at  Wolfsgarten. 

"  Don't  send  the  letter,"  said  she  abruptly, 
"let  us  again  be  quietly  by  ourselves ;  I 
would  rather  not  be  disturbed  now  by  the 
Dournay  family." 


234 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Clodwig  expressed  his  opinion  that  the 
noble  lady,  so  far  from  interfering  with 
their  quiet,  would  be  an  additional  element 
of  be  autiful  companionship,  and  would  be 
the  means  of  their  seeing  Eric  in  a  pleasant 
way. 

The  storm  had  ceased,  and  when  Bella 
opened  the  window,  a  refreshing  breeze 
drew  in.  She  held  the  letter  in  her  hand  ; 
it  had  been  tempest,  lightning,  rain,  and 
thunder  that  raged  to-day  in  her  soul,  and 
now  there  was  refreshing  life.  She  agreed 
with  her  husband ;  she  said  to  herself,  that 
intercourse  with  the  noble  woman  would 
restore  her  to  herself;  and  for  a  moment 
the  thought  occurred  to  her  that  she  would 
confess  all  to  the  mother,  and  be  governed 
by  her.  Then  came  the  thought  that  this 
was  not  necessary  ;  it  would  be  very  natural 
for  Eric  to  come  to  Wolfsgarten,  and  her 
intercourse  with  him  would  fall  back  into 
the  old  peaceful  channels. 

Bella  wrote  a  short  postscript  to  the  let- 
ter of  her  husband ;  and  the  Doctor  also, 
who  came  in  just  as  they  were  closing  the 
letter,  added  a  few  words. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
AN  OPEN  COURT  AND  AN  OPEN  INVENTORY. 

The  fireworks  were  still  crackling  and 
snapping  in  their  ears,  the  dazzling  lights 
still  gleaming  in  their  eyes,  and  the  music 
of  the  band  still  sounding  in  their  recollec- 
tion, when  they  were  obliged  to  make  ready 
for  appearance  at  court,  as  witnesses  in  the 
affair  of  the  burglary. 

Pranken  remained  with  the  guests  at  the 
Villa,  having  undertaken  to  show  them  the 
recently  purchased  country-house. 

Sonnenkamp,  Roland,  and  Eric,  and  also 
the '  porter,  the  coachman,  Bertram,  the 
head-gardener,  the  little  "Squirrel,"  and 
two  gardeners  repaired  to  the  county  town 
to  attend  the  trial.  They  went  by  the 
house  of  the  Wine-count,  now  styled  Baron 
von  Endlich,  where  the  remnants  of  fire- 
works were  still  visible,  scattered  here  and 
there  ;  the  house  was  yet  shut  up,  the  family 
still  sleeping  their  first  sleep  as  members  of 
the  nobility. 

Eric  spoke  of  the  beautiful  and  genuinely 
pious  conduct  of  the  priest  towards  the 
prisoners.  He  was  a  living  example  of  the 
grand  doctrine  that  religion  required  one 
to  interest  himself  in  the  stumbling  and  the 
unfortunate,  whether  they  were  guilty  or 
innocent.  The  Doctor,  on  the  other  hand, 
maintained  in  a  very  droll  fashion  that  it 
was  an  extremely  beneficial  thing  for  the 
Ranger  to  pass,  once  in  his  life,  several 
weeks  within  walls  and  under  a  roof. 


There  was  little  else  said ;  they  reached 
the  county  town  in  good  season. 

Sonnenkamp  went  to  the  telegraph  office, 
in  order  to  send  some  messages,  one  of 
which  was  directed  to  the  University-town 
for  the  widow  of  the  Professor. 

"  At  that  time  —  does  it  not  seem  to  you 
as  if  it  were  ten  years  ago  ?  —  at  that  time 
it  was  very  different  from  to-day.  Don't 
you  think  that  there  were  villains  also  among 
the  singers,  perhaps  worse  ones  than  those 
in  prison  yonder  ?  " 

It  pained  Eric  grievously  that  Roland 
must  be  initiated  so  early  into  the  bitterness 
and  the  dissensions  of  life.  They  went  to- 
gether to  the  court-house. 

The  president  and  the  judges  occupied 
a  raised  platform  ;  on  the  right  sat  the  jury, 
and  on  the  left,  the  accused  and  their  coun- 
sel ;  the  room  was  full  of  spectators,  for 
there  was  a  general  curiosity  to  hear  the 
mysterious  Herr  Sonnenkamp  speak  in  pub- 
lic, and  no  one  knew  what  might  be  picked 
up  in  the  way  of  information. 

The  dwarf,  the  groom,  and  the  huntsman 
sat  on  the  criminals'  seat.  The  dwarf  took 
snuff  very  zealously,  the  groom  looked 
around  imploringly,  and  Claus  held  his 
hands  before  his  eyes. 

The  dwarf  looked  as  if  he  had  had  good 
keeping,  and  thriven  under  it ;  he  gazed 
around  the  hall  with  an  almost  satisfied 
bearing,  as  if  he  felt  flattered  that  so  many 
people  concerned  themselves  about  him. 
The  groom,  whose  hair  had  been  very  nice- 
ly dressed,  regarded  the  crowd  with  a  con- 
temptuous glance. 

Claus  seemed  to  have  pined  away  consid- 
erably, and  when  the  dwarf  wanted  to  whis- 
per something  to  him,  as  he  sat  there  at 
a  little  distance  from  his  fellow  defendants, 
he  turned  away  displeased.  He  looked  up 
to  the  space  occupied  by  the  spectators,  and 
saw  among  them  his  wife,  two  of  his  sons, 
and  his  daughter ;  but  the  cooper  was  not 
present.  The  children  appeared  to  have 
grown  since  he  had  last  seen  them,  and  they 
were  dressed  in  their  Sunday-clothes,  in 
order  to  witness  the  disgrace  —  no,  it  must 
simply  be  the  honor  of  their  father. 

The  huntsman  moved  restlessly  on  the 
seat,  and  spoke  to  his  wife  with  his  lips,  ut- 
tering no  sound.  He  meant  to  tell  her  to 
be  undisturbed,  as  in  a  couple  of  hours  they 
would  go  home  together. 

Sonnenkamp,  Eric,  and  Roland  were  in 
the  witnesses'  seat. 

Roland  sat  between  his  father  and  Eric, 
to  whom  he  clung  as  if  he  were  afraid. 
Knopf  sat  next  to  Eric,  and  nodded  to  Ro- 
land. 

"  Before  the  law  the  testimony  of  all  men 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


235 


is  equal,"  said  Roland  in  a  low  voice  to  Eric, 
who  knew  what  was  passing  in  Roland's 
mind. 

His  pride  was  a  little  touched  that  the 
testimony  of  the  porter  would  be  of  as  much 
account  "as  that  of  his  father,  but  he  had 
quickly  overcome  the  feeling. 

The  indictments  were  read.  It  had  been 
found,  on  further  investigation,  that  one 
compartment  of  the  closet  built  into  the 
wall,  separate  from  the  great  safe,  had  been 
opened  with  a  key  and  then  closed  again ; 
a  considerable  sum  of  money  had  been  taken 
from  it,  the  greater  part  of  which  was  found 
in  the  groom's  possession. 

At  his  own  request,  Sonnenkamp  was 
summoned  first,  to  identify  the  stolen  prop- 
erty. . 

Roland  straightened  himself  up,  when  he 
heard  his  father  give  his  testimony  in  so 
plain  and  gentle  a  manner. 

Sonnenkamp  expressed  regret  that  people 
should  meet  with  misfortur^,  but  justice 
must  have  its  course. 

He  was  dismissed.  He  had  already  made 
his  bow,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  court- 
room, when  the  counsel  of  the  accused  groom 
asked  the  President  whether  he  intended  to 
let  Herr  Sonnenkamp  off  from  testifying  as 
to  the  amount  of  gold  and  valuable  papers 
in  the  closet ;  if  Herr  Sonnenkamp  did  not 
know  this,  he  could  not  tell  exactly  how 
much  had  been  stolen  from  him  in  the  part 
that  had  been  broken  into. 

The  whole  assembly  was  breathless. 
Now  it  would  be  seen  what  was  the  amount 
of  Sonnenkarnp's  wealth,  reputed  so  im- 
measurable. A  perfect  silence  prevailed 
for  a  time  ;  it  was  broken  by  Sonnenkarnp's 
asking  whether  the  court  could  oblige  him 
to  testify  on  his  conscience  as  to  the  sum, 
or  whether  he  could  reply,  or  not,  as  he  saw 
fit.  The  President  said,  that  he  must  ex- 
press the  opinion,  that  the  amount  of  what 
was  stolen  was  certainly  of  great  import- 
ance in  reference  to  the  sentence  to  be  im- 
posed upon  the  accused.  , 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  Sonnenkamp 
unbuttoned  his  coat,  unbuttoned  his  waist- 
coat, and  taking  out  a  little  memorandum- 
book,  he  approached  the  judge's  seat,  and 
offered  it  to  him,  saying  : — 

"  Here  is  an  exact  inventory  of  the  notes 
payable  to  bearer,  of  those  payable  to  my 
order,  and  of  the  sum  in  specie." 

When  half  way  up  the  steps  of  the  plat- 
form where  the  president  and  the  judges  sat, 
Sonnenkamp  stopped,  for  the  defendant's 
counsel  now  cried :  — 

"  We  have  an  open  court,  entirely  open, 
and  there  is  nothing  which  the  Herr  Presi- 
dent is  to  know,  and  we  to  be  ignorant  of." 


"Well  then,"  said  Sonnenkamp,  turning 
round,  "it  shall  be  told  openly:  Twelve 
millions  of  paper  payable  to  the  bearer, 
three  millions  to  my  order,  and  only  two 
hundred  thousand  in  gold  coin.  Is  that  sat- 
isfactory ?  " 

A  bravo  was  uttered  by  the  spectators, 
and  the  President  was  obliged  to  threaten 
them  with  clearing  the  hall,  if  it  were  re- 
peated. 

Sonnenkamp  descended ;  he  had  desired 
to  leave  the  court-room  at  once,  but  now 
he  seemed  otherwise  determined,  for  he  took 
a  seat  again  on  the  witnesses'  bench.  Ro- 
land cast  down  his  eyes,  and  tremblingly 
seized  hold  of  Eric's  hand,  which  he  held 
firmly.  There  was  a  low  talking  among  the 
crowd,  a  movement  this  way  and  that,  so 
that  the  President  was  obliged  to  command 
quiet  by  violently  ringing  his  bell ;  and 
Sonnenkamp  left  the  hall. 

The  head-gardener  gave  his  testimony, 
which  was  scarcely  listened  to.  When 
Eric  was  summoned,  there  was  again  silent 
attention. 

Eric  narrated  the  whole  story,  and  the 
huntsman's  uniform  expressions  of  bitter- 
ness at  the  difference  between  the  rich  and 
the  poor,  but  protested  that  he  regarded 
the  man  as  incapable  of  committing  any 
crime  against  society. 

A  strange  whispering  pervaded  the  whole 
assembly  when  Eric  narrated  the  inquiry 
of  Claus  :  What  would  you  do,  if  you  were 
the  possessor  of  millions  ?  The  question 
had  now.  in  a  manner,  gone  forth  to  the 
whole  world. 

Knopf  was  summoned.  He  offered  first 
a  written  testimony  of  the  old  Herr  Weid- 
mann, with  whom  the  huntsman  had  lived 
several  years  as  a  servant,  who  testified  to 
his  uprightness,  his  incapability  of  any  de- 
ceit, much  less  any  positive  crime.  Then 
Knopf  added  from  his  own  knowledge,  how 
the  huntsman  was  always  racking  his  brains 
over  many  matters  which  he  could  not 
master. 

Roland  was  summoned,  and  advanced 
with  an  erect  attitude  to  the  witness-stand ; 
Claus  nodded  to  him. 

Roland  could  not  be  sworn,  as  he  was  a 
minor ;  but  it  made  a  good  impression 
when  he  said  in  an  unembarrassed  voice, 
that  he  considered  his  word  as  good  as  an 
oath. 

He  identified  the  articles  that  had  been 
stolen  from  him ;  he  asserted  that  his  father's 
rooms  had  been  locked,  but  he  should  not 
be  willing  to  swear  to  that,  as  he  had  not 
been  near  those  rooms  for  several  days  be- 
fore the  burglary.  And  how,  without  be- 
ing asked,  he  expressed  his  conviction  that 


236 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


Claus  could  have  had  no  participation  in  the 
crime. 

The  huntsman  got  up  at  these  words, 
and  the  forester,  who  sat  behind  him,  ob- 
liged him  to  sit  down  again,  putting  his 
hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

The  evidence  against  Claus  seemed  to  be 
only  as  the  receiver  of  stolen  goods.  The 
two  others  could  make  no  defence,  and 
each  sought  to  lay  upon  the  other  the  guilt 
of  the  burglary. 

Eric  was  recalled,  in  order  to  testify  more 
in  detail  concerning  the  huntsman's  request 
to  be  shown  all  over  the  house,  a  few  days 
before  the  robbery.  When  Eric  had  sat 
down,  Roland  got  up  and  asked :  — 

"  Herr  President,  may  I  be  permitted  to 
say  one  word  more  ?  11 

"  Speak,11  replied  the  President  encourag- 
ingly ;  "  say  all  that  you  wish  to.11 

Roland  stepped  forward  quickly,  with 
head  erect,  and  said,  in  a  voice  that  had 
now  a  full,  manly  tone,  — 

"  I  here  raise  my  hand  in  testimony, 
that  my  poor  brother  here  is  as  innocent 
as  he  is  poor.  It  is  true  he  has  often  com- 
plained that  one  man  should  starve  while 
another  gormandizes  ;  but  before  God  and 
man  1  declare  that  he  has  often  said  to  me : 
The  hand  must  wither  that  grasps  unjust 
possessions.  Can  a  man  do  that,  and  then 
go  away  by  night  and  break  into  another's 
house,  and  rob  ?  I  beseech  you,  I  conjure 
you  earnestly,  to  declare  that  this  man  is 
as  innocent  as  all  of  you  are ;  as  innocent 
as  I  am  !  11 

He  ceased,  standing  as  if  he  were  rooted 
to  the  spot,  and  for  a  while  there  was  a 
breathless  stillness  in  the  assembly. 

"Have  you  any  thing  more  to  say?11 
asked  the  President.  Roland  seemed  now 
to  wake  up,  and  said,  — 

"  No,  nothing  more.  I  thank  you."  He 
returned  to  Eric,  who  grasped  his  hand ;  it 
was  cold  as  ice,  and  he  warmed  it  in  his 
own.  On  the  other  side,  Knopf  also  tried 
to  grasp  the  hand  of  his  former  pupil,  but 
he  could  not,  for  he  was  obliged  to  take 
off  his  spectacles,  which  had  become  wet 
from  the  great  tears  rolling  from  his 
eyes. 

The  proceedings  were  brief.  The  Head- 
master was  one  of  the  jury,  who  now  with- 
drew into  their  room  for  consultation.  Af- 
ter a  short  absence  they  returned,  and  the 
head-master,  who  had  been  chosen  foreman, 
laying  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  announced 
the  unanimous  verdict :  — 

The  dwarf  and  the  groom,  guilty ;  the 
huntsman,  not  guilty. 

Outside,  in  front  of  the  court-house,  as 
his  wife  and  children,  —  the  cooper  among 


them  now,  — crowded  round  Claus,  Roland 
pressed  up  to  him  and  seized  his  hand. 

The  huntsman  turned  from  them  all,  say- 
ing that  he  must  speak  to  young  Weid- 
mann, who  had  been  one  of  the  jury ;  the 
young  man  came  up  just  then,  and  Claus 
cried  out  to  him,  with  a  great  flow  of  words, 
that  he  must  tell  his  lather  that  all  his 
troubles  were  wiped  out,  since  every  one 
had  heard  what  Herr  Weidmann  thought 
of  him. 

Young  Weidmann  went  to  Eric  and  con- 
gratulated him  on  having  formed  such  a 
pupil ;  others  came  also  to  offer  congratu- 
lations and  shake  hands.  Eric  begged 
young  Weidmann  to  remember  him  to  his 
father,  and  say  that  he  should  soon  pay  the 
promised  visit  to  Mauenheim. 

Knopf  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of 
people,  begging  them  not  to  spoil  the  boy 
with  their  praises ;  and,  in  his  effort  to 
keep  others  back,  he  refrained  from  going 
himself  to  sha^e  hands  with  Roland. 

Sonnenkamp  appeared,  and  all  took  off 
their  hats  to  him  respectfully.  Here  was 
the  man  possessed  of  such  incredible  wealth, 
and  he  wore  a  coat  like  other  people,  and 
had  to  stand  on  his  own  feet.  Sonnen- 
kamp seemed  a  prodigy  to  them  all.  How 
was  it  possible  for  a  man  to  possess  such 
wealth?  But  there  were  some  knowing 
scoffers  who  declared  that  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp had  overstated  his  property,  and 
others,  still  more  knowing,  who  were  will- 
ing to  swear  that  he  was  even  richer  than 
he  had  said,  but  they  were  hardly  noticed. 
Sonnenkamp,  greeting  all  around  in  a  most 
friendly  manner,  went  to  Claus  to  con- 
gratulate "him,  and  then  called  Roland 
aside.  Roland  stood  before  his  father  for 
the  first  since  he  had  learned  his  great 
wealth ;  his  eyes  fell ;  looking  up  to  him 
seemed  like  looking  up  to  a  high  mountain, 
but  Sonnenkamp  laid  his  hand  kindly  on 
his  shoulder,  and  told  him  that  he  might 
drive  home  alone  with  Eric,  as  he  was  him- 
self obliged  to  remain  in  town  to  wait  for  a 
telegram. 

Roland  begged  Claus  and  his  family  most 
pressingly  to  ride  home  with  him ;  the 
huntsman  refused,  but  Roland  urged  it  so 
warmly  that  he  at  last  yielded,  and  entered 
the  carriage  with  his  wife,  leaving  the  chil- 
dren to  walk.  Roland  took  the  released 
prisoner  in  triumph  through  the  town  and 
villages ;  the  wife  was  embarrassed  at  rid- 
ing in  such  state,  but  Claus  himself  looked 
round  without  constraint,  only  saying  sev- 
eral times :  — 

"  All  has  gone  on  very  well  without  me, 
and  will  do  very  well,  when  I  am  across  the 
ocean." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


237 


To  Eric  he  expressed  his  determination 
of  emigrating  to  America  with  his  family. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  MAJOR  MAKES  A  CONQUEST. 

The  same  sun  that  shone  at  Wolfsgarten, 
where  Bella  was  maintaining  a  severe  inter- 
nal struggle,  and  that  shone  through  the 
lowered  green  shades  in  the  court-room 
upon  the  bench  of  the  accused,  glimmered 
also  through  the  closed  Venetian  blinds  in 
the  quiet  sitting-room  of  the  Professor's 
widow  in  the  University-town.  Eric's  moth- 
er sat  by  the  window  filled  with  flowers,  in 
the  piano  recess,  at  her  silent  work,  think- 
ing of  her  son ;  it  was  a  subject  of  constant 
thought  with  her,  why  he  had  to  enter  upon 
a  mode  of  life  so  out  of  the  ordinary 
course. 

She  often  looked  up  sadly  to  the  portrait 
of  her  husband,  which  seemed  to  say  to  her : 
My  child,  both  of  us  entered  upon  a  path 
in  life  out  of  the  ordinary  course,  thou  even 
more  than  I ;  and  that  is  transmitted  as  an 
inheritance  from  generation  to  generation  ; 
we  ought  to  rest  content,  as  thereby  we 
keep  a  firmer  hold  upon  the'  spirit  of  our 
son,  and  though  he  may  be  thrown  down  to 
the  ground  by  fortune,  he  can  never  be  held 
there  permanently. 

So  did  the  mother  console  herself;  and 
Eric's  letters  were  also  a  source  of  consola- 
tion. He  had  made  a  faithful  report  to  her, 
then  he  excused  himself  for  the  irregularity 
and  haste  of  his  letters,  on  the  ground  that 
he  must  forget,  for  a  time,  himself  and 
everybody  else  who  belonged  to  him,  as 
only  in  this  way  could  he  hope  to  gain  pos- 
session of  another  soul.  At  first  he  men- 
tioned Clodwig  and  Bella  frequently,  — his 
home  feeling  with  these  friends,  and  the 
happy  realization  of  a  state  of  tranquillity  ; 
then,  for  a  while,  there  was  nothing  said  of 
Bella,  except  sometimes  a  brief  greeting 
from  her  at  her  request.  The  mother  had 
not  noticed  this,  but  aunt  Claudine,  who 
seldom  said  any  thing  unless  her  opinion 
was  asked,  and  then  had  something  to  say 
very  much  to  the  purpose,  did  not  hesitate 
to  remark  unreservedly,  after  Clodwig's 
and  Bella's  visit,  on  being  asked  what  im- 
pression it  had  left,  that  she  had  noticed  a 
certain  restlessness  in  Bella's  look,  and  she 
feared  from  the  manner  in  which  she  had 
looked  at  a  likeness  of  Eric,  taken  when  he 
was  young,  that  there  was  here  a  more  than 
common  interest.  The  mother  was  forced 
to  assent  to  this,  for  she  had  also  noticed 
how  deeply  interested  Bella  had  been  in 
making  inquiries  concerning  Eric's  youth- 


ful years.  But  she  said  further  to  her  sis- 
ter-in-law that  Bella  was  an  artist,  at  least 
was  more  than  a  common  dilettante,  and 
had  observed  with  the  eye  of  an  artist  the 
picture,  that  was  exceedingly  well  painted; 
a  considerable  sum  had  already  been  offered 
for  it  in  order  to  be  put  into  an  art-collec- 
tion. 

There  was  stillness  in  the  abode  of  the 
two  ladies,  who  lived  almost  as  quietly  as 
the  flowers  which  throve  so  well  under 
their  watchfulness  and  care.  The  postman 
brought  a  letter  in  Clodwig's  neat  hand- 
writing, in  every  word  of  which  the  man 
himself  could  be  discerned,  so  neat  and 
regular  were  the  letters,  with  no  stroke 
hastily  made,  and  none  too  elaborately  pre- 
cise ;  the  whole  had  an  appearance  of  uni- 
formity, and  the  lines  were  straight  and  at 
an  equal  distance  apart,  though  the  paper 
was  unruled.  A  feeling  of  pleasure  was 
awakened  by  the  mere  sight  of  the  letter, 
and  the  contents  were  such  as  to  strengthen 
this  quiet  satisfaction.  He  said  that  the 
Professor's  widow  would  lay  him  under  an 
obligation  of  gratitude  by  accepting  an 
invitation  to  make  a  visit  of  several  weeks. 
He  appealed  to  the  friendly  relations  with 
her  deceased  husband,  and  the  beautiful 
renewal  of  them  in  his  intercourse  with  Eric, 
who  gave  to  him  a  youthful  friendship  such 
as  he  had  scarcely  dreamed  of.  Lastly,  he 
appealed  to  their  mutual  personal  acquaint- 
ance, and  there  was  a  written  smile  when 
he  added,  that,  during  his  whole  life,  he  had 
never  made  a  demand  upon  the  heart  which 
had  not  met  with  a  response,  and  he  prayed 
her  now  not  to  shame  him  in  his  old  age. 
He  closed  by  saying  that  he  entreated  the 
mother  of  his  friend  Eric  to  permit  him  to 
call  himself  "  her  friend  Clodwig."  There 
was  no  formal  politeness  in  the  letter,  and 
yet  it  was  full  of  a  delicate  friendliness. 

Bella  had  hastily  scratched  underneath, 
in  a  coarse  hand,  a  request  that  the  mother 
and  aunt  would  honor  her  with  a  visit ;  she 
said  that  she  wrote  only  a  few  words,  as  she, 
felt  sure  that  she  should  be  favored  with 
the  intimate  intercourse  of  the  respected 
mother  and  the  amiable  aunt.  In  a  post- 
script she  besought  them  to  bring  with 
them  Eric's  music. 

In  the  letter  there  was  enclosed  a  second 
one  from  the  Doctor,  who  claimed  to  have 
been  a  scholar  of  the  old  Professor.  He 
offered  good-humoredly  his  professional 
services,  and  there  was  only  one  brief  sen- 
tence in  which  he  suggested  that  it  would 
be  a  protection  and  a  safeguard  to  his 
young  friend  Eric,  to  be  again  under  the 
eye  of  his  mother. 

This  awakened  in  her  many  thoughts, 


238 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


and  she  resolved  to  accept  the  invitation. 
Sonnenkamp's  telegram  was  delivered. 

Just  as  she  had  finished  reading  this, 
there  was  another  knock,  and  the  Major  en- 
tered. 

When  the  mother  saw  him,  at  first  she 
was  frightened,  not  recognizing  him,  as  she 
looked  at  the  red  face,  the  short,  white 
hair,  and  the  decoration  on  his  breast.  For 
a  moment  it  seemed  to  her  that  he  was  some 
messenger  of  justice,  who  had  come  to  exe- 
cute some  commission  or  other,  she  knew 
not  what,  that  endangered  Eric's  welfare. 

The  Major  did  not  mend  matters  at  all, 
when  he  said,  — 

"  Frau  Professorin,  I  come  to  execute  a 
warrant  of  ejection  ;  but  I  am  not  indeed  to 
drive  you  out  of  Paradise,  but  to  shut  you 
up  in  the  Garden  of  Eden." 

He  had  been  making  up  this  pretty  speech 
during  the  whole  journey,  and  he  had  said 
it  over  inaudibly  to  himself  certainly  a  hun- 
dred times  :  and  now  it  came  out  so  clumsi- 
ly, that  the  good  lady  trembled  so  that  she 
could  not  rise. 

The  Major  cried :  — 

"Don't  get  up;  everybody  knows  that 
there's  no  ceremony  at  all  to  be  made  with 
me.  I  don't  desire  to  incommode  any  one  ;  I 
greatly  prefer  that  people  would  sit  when  I 
enter.  Isn't  it  the  same  with  you  ?  One 
feels  sure  in  this  case  that  he  doesn't  make 
any  disturbance." 

"  Have  you  come  from  my  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,  from  him  too.  Observe,  Tin  not 
one  of  the  best  people  in  the  world,  neither 
am  I  one  of  the  worst ;  but  there's  one  thing  I 
can  say  to  my  credit,  that  I  have  never  in  all 
my  life  envied  anybody  but  you,  and  you  I 
did  envy  when  you  said,  '  my  son  ;'  that  I 
did  envy  you  for.  Why  can't  I  say  this 
too?  If  I  only  had  such  a  son  as  you 
have  !  " 

Now  there  was  tranquillity  at  last.  The 
Major  delivered  a  letter  from  Sonnenkamp 
and  the  Cabiuetsrathin,  and  desired  that 
the  letters  should  be  read  immediately,  as 
they  would  render  it  unnecessary  lor  him  to 
say  anything. 

The  Professorin  read,  and  the  Major 
watched  her  countenance  while  she  was 
reading,  with  peculiar  marks  of  quiet  satis- 
faction. 

The  Professorin  bade  him  welcome,  and 
called  her  sister-in-law,  who  came  in. 

The  blinds  were  opened,  and  the  in- 
streaming  light  shone  upon  cheerful  faces. 

"What  shall  we  decide  upon  doing?" 
asked  Aunt  Claudine. 

"  There  is  no  longer  any  question  of  de- 
ciding ;  we  accept  the  heartv  invitation." 

"Which?" 


"  Of  course  Herr  Sonnenkamp's." 

"That's  right,"  said  the  Major  with  a 
broad  smile.  "  Will  you  allow  me  to  light 
a  cigar?  Did  your  husband,  now  gone  to 
his  eternal  home,  smoke  too?" 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

Aunt  Claudine  had  quickly  lighted  a 
match,  and  held  it  up  to  the  Major  with  her 
delicate  fingers. 

"  That's  fair !  that's  fair  !  "  cried  the  Ma- 
jor. "  You've  given  me  fire,  and  I  prom- 
ise to  go  through  fire  for  you." 

He  was  very  happy  over  this  turn,  and  he 
puffed  away  yet  happier. 

There  were,  of  course,  a  great  many 
things  to  be  got  ready,  before  they  could 
set  out.  The  Major  promised  that  Joseph 
should  come  and  bring  everything  away 
after  they  had  departed ;  not  one  thread 
should  be  left  behind.  He  then  withdrew 
for  a  few  hours,  in  order  to  pay  a  visit  to 
some  brother  free-masons. 

At  midday,  the  Major  was  riding  with  the 
two  ladies  in  a  first-class  railroad  car  to- 
wards the  Rhine,  and  he  was  as  proud  and 
as  happy  as  if  he  had  carried  off  the  army- 
chest  of  the  enemy. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

POTATOES   AND    SOMETHING    BETTER  BE- 
SIDES. 

Claus  and  his  wife  were  in  the  same  car- 
riage with  Eric  and  Roland.  When  Claus 
reached  the  line  where  his  beat  began,  he 
asked  them  to  stop,  and  got  out. 

"  No,  I  go  in  no  carriage  here,"  he  said. 
"  And  look  here  at  my  hands ;  my  hands 
have  been  hand-cuffed.  What  now  are  they 
to  do  ?  Are  they  to  avenge  themselves  ?  On 
whom  ?  And  if  I  should  know  on  whom, 
what  then  ?  " 

He  took  up  a  clod  of  earth,  raised  it  up 
towards  heaven,  and  cried :  — 

"  By  thee  I  swear  that  I  will  emigrate. 
The  New  World  must  give  me  some  land  of 
my  own ;  I  have  long  enough  looked  after 
the  land  of  other  people  in  the  old." 

Eric  and  Roland  also  got  out,  and  went 
with  the  couple  into  their  house.  Then  a 
sudden  call  was  heard  from  the  vineyard, 
and  Sevenpiper  came  from  it  with  the  hal- 
berd which  Claus  had  always  carried  as  the 
badge  of  his  office  as  field-guard.  He 
handed  it  over  to  Claus,  saying,  — 

"Take  this  now  again;  I  have  kept  it 
faithfully  for  you." 

He  joined  the  escort  of  the  couple  to  their 
home.  The  dogs  barked  in  the  yard,  and 
the  birds  flitted  here  and  there,  and  twittered 
all  together,  for  their  master  had  come 
back.    But  the  black-bird  sang  louder  than 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


239 


all,  caroling,  Rejoice  in  your  life ;  but 
she  stuck  fast  at  the  second  bar.  The  field- 
guard  gazed  round  upon  all,  as  if  he  had 
just  waked  up.  At  last  there  was  a  calm, 
and  the  whole  family  sat  round  the  table, 
and  ate  the  first  new  potatoes  which  a 
neighbor  had  boiled  for  them.  Never  had 
Roland  eaten  any  food  which  had  such  a 
relish,  and  all  laughed  when  he  said,  — 

' '  Claus,  these  potatoes  originated  there 
where  you  are  going  and  where  I  came 
from ;  they  were  born  in  America,  and  we 
have  immigrated  hither." 

They  had  a  pleasant  time  together,  and 
Roland  presented  the  stolen  watch  which 
had  been  restored  to  him  to  Claus,  as  a 
lasting  token  of  remembrance.  He  was  not 
willing  to  take  it,  not  even  when  Eric  and 
Sevenpiper  joined  in  the  request. 

"Just  take  it,  father,"  finally  said  the 
cooper,  and  Claus  yielded. 

Sevenpiper  led  the  talk  to-day.  He  made 
fun  of  the  field-guard  for  being  a  great  deal 
too  uneasy ;  and  for  continually  worrying 
how  people  got  to  be  so  rich,  which  was 
wholly  needless.  A  man  might,  indeed,  be 
empty,  but  one  couldn't  eat  more  than  his 
fill,  or  do  more  than  quench  his  thirst ;  and 
the  riih  man  couldn't  get  any  more  out  of 
sleep  than  to  sleep  sound,  and  sleeping 
sound  didn't  depend  upon  the  bed  in  which 
one  slept,  but  it  was  just  sleeping  sound ; 
and  to  ride  in  one's  coach  was  pure  non- 
sense ;  it  was  much  better  to  go  upon  one's 
own  good  walking-sticks. 

There  was  also  some  mention  made  of 
the  dwarf,  and  Sevenpiper  said,  — 

"  Yes  ;  if  any  one  wants  to  visit  the  grave 
of  this  mannikin,  he  will  have  to  carry  a 
ladder  along  with  him." 

"What  for?"  asked  Roland. 

"Because  he  will  be  hanged." 

Claus  did  not  like  to  have  them  talk  of 
bad  people. 

Sevenpiper  was  a  good  representative  of 
"  blessed  be  nothing."  He  had  sent  a  child 
to  his  house,  and  just  as  some  bottles  of 
wine  arrived  which  Fraulein  Milch  had 
sent,  there  was  heard  singing  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  house.  The  whole  organ  was 
there  with  all  its  stops,  and  soon  Eric  and 
Sevenpiper  were  singing  too. 

At  last  Eric  insisted  that  they  must  be  on 
their  way  home  ;  and  as  they  were  turning 


from  the  village  path  into  the  road,  a  car" 
riage  drove  up,  from  which  signals  were 
made,  and  the  powerful  voice  of  the  Major 
cried :  — 

"Battalion,  halt!" 

They  halted ;  in  the  carriage  with  the 
Major  were  the  mother  and  the  aunt. 

"  This  is  the  only  thing  which  I  had  yet 
to  wish  for,"  said  Roland.  "Herr  Major, 
Claus  has  been  released ;  he  is  innocent." 

The  mother  embraced  her  son  after  she 
had  first  embraced  Roland.  They  got  out, 
and  Eric  walked  to  the  villa  arm-in-ärm 
with  his  mother,  who  held  Roland  by  the 
hand  on  the  other  side.  The  Major  po- 
litely offered  his  arm  to  the  aunt,  but  she 
declined,  excusing  herself  by  saying  that  it 
was  a  peculiarity  of  hers  never  to  take  any 
one's  arm. 

"  That's  really  the  better  way  ;  Fräulein 
Milch  thinks  so  too.  You'll  get  acquainted 
with  her ;  you'll  be  good  friends  with  one 
another,  you  may  rely  upon  that.  She 
knew  every  thing  —  every  single  thing. 
It's  incomprehensible  how  she  picked  it  all 
up.  She  knew  that  Count  Clodwig  had 
sent  you  an  invitation.  But  we  know  a 
stratagem  or  two  ;  we've  been  beforehand 
with  him.  '  He  whom  fortune  favors  leads 
home  the  bride,'  as  the  saying  is." 

Music  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  the 
Major  informed  them  that  it  was  a  part  of 
the  wedding  celebration  at  Herr  von  End- 
lieh's. 

"  O  mother,  if  I  am  ever  again  despond- 
ing and  low-spirited,  I  will  call  to  mind  this 
hour,  and  be  again  happy  !  " 

The  mother  could  not  speak ;  her  heart 
was  too  full. 

There  was  a  very  friendly  welcome  at  the 
villa.  The  Cabin etsrdthin  embraced  and 
kissed  the  Professorin ;  Frau  Ceres  sent  an 
excuse  for  not  appearing.  Sonnenkamp 
came  after  nightfall. 

The  moon  shone  brightly  when  Eric  and 
Roland  escorted  the  mother  and  the  aunt 
to  the  vine-embowered  dwelling.  And  as 
she  stood  here  upon  the  balcony,  Eric's 
mother  took  his  hand  again,  quietly,  and 
said,  — 

"If  thy  father  could  see  thee,  he  would 
rejoice  in  thee ;  thou  hast  still  thy  pure  and 
good  glance  ;  yes,  all  is  well,  thou  hast  the 
old  pure  glance." 


240 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


BOOK    VII.  CHAPTER  I. 

THE  MOTHER  IS  HERE. 

"  My  mother  is  here  !  " 

A  dewy  atmosphere  of  inexhaustible  fresh- 
ness encompassed  Eric  ;  he  heard  the  voice 
of  a  child  awakening  from  a  dream,  and  yet 
it  was  he  himself  who  had  spoken.  He  closed 
his  eyes,  and  went  back  in  thought  to  the 
days  of  childhood ;  all  that  had  since  ex- 
cited and  oppressed  his  spirit  was  torn  into 
fragments,  and  had  sunk  out  of  sight. 

"  My  mother  is  here  !  11 

This  was  now  a  call  of  duty.  Eric  stood 
by  Roland's  bedside  ;  it  was  never  necessary 
for  him  to  speak  in  order  to  waken  him,  for 
as  soon  as  he  looked  directly  upon  him,  Ro- 
land waked  up.  Now  he  opened  his  eyes, 
and  his  first  words  were  : — 
Thy  mother  is  here  !  " 

Eric  heard  these  same  words,  now  spoken 
by  another,  which  he  had  heard  in  his  own 
dreamy  reverie,  and,  placing  his  hand  upon 
the  brow  of  the  youth,  he  regarded  him  with 
a  mingled  feeling  of  joy  and  sorrow.  Why 
has  this  poor  rich  boy  not  the  blessedness 
of  a  mother's  love  ? 

The  new  day  received  its  consecration, 
for  Eric  and  Roland  began  it  by  going  to 
give  a  greeting  to  the  mother. 

As  they  were  walking  along  the  river, 
Roland  shouted  across  it : — 

' '  Father  Rhine  !  Eric's  mother  is  here  !  " 

Eric  smiled ;  the  youth's  face  was  all  a- 
glow. 

They  went  to  the  mother  as  to  a  temple, 
and  they  came  away  from  her  as  from  a  tem- 
ple, for  this  gentle,  peaceful  spirit  conveyed 
a  benediction  in  every  word,  in  every  move- 
ment of  the  hand,  in  every  glance  of  the 
eye ;  and  she  it  was  who  appealed  to  'the 
sanctity  of  established  rule,  and  the  persis- 
tent continuance  in  duty,  for  she  said  to 
them  that  she  should  regard  it  as  the  most 
perfect  proof  of  love  and  loyal  attachment, 
if  they  would  go  on  with  their  work  to-day 
just  as  they  did  yesterday ;  in  every  situa- 
tion in  life,  whether  in  tribulation  or  in  glad- 
ness, the  appointed  duty  must  be  performed. 

They  were  again  seated  at  their  work, 
and  they  read  together,  to-day,  the  return  of 
Ulysses"  to  Ithaca.  Eric  was  somewhat  ab- 
sent, for  everything  took  the  hue  of  the  feel- 
ing that  he  was  with  his  mother ;  he  over- 
came this, —  he  would  be  wholly  engaged  in 
what  was  before  him,  but  he  caught  himself 
unexpectedly  drawn  away  in  this  direction 
as  he  looked  at  Roland.  "Ah!  why  can 
you  not  have  the  same  feeling  ?  The  best 
refreshment  and  blessing  for  a  human  being 
is  the  mother's  love.  Every  other  love 
must  be  sued  for,  be  obtained  by  conquest, 


be  earned,  be  struggled  for  through  obsta- 
cles ;  a  mother's  love  alone  one  has  always' 
unsought  and  undeserved." 

Now  Bella  came  again  into  his  mind. 
Eric  hoped  to  have  annihilated  everything 
in  himself  that  was  false  to  human  nature 
and  to  purity,  and  summoning  up  a  greater 
strength  than  ever,  a  strength  obtained  by 
hard  wrestling,  he  devoted  himself  to  the 
Avork  of  instruction,  and  succeeded  in  pro- 
jecting himself  and  the  youth  into  the  Jife 
of  another,  so  that  they  forgot  everything 
immediately  around  them. 

At  noon,  the  realization  of  the  mother's 
presence  came  to  them  as  a  fresh  gift. 
They  were  in  the  garden  together ;  Frau 
Ceres  was  not  visible,  and  she  begged, 
through  Fräulein  Perini,  to  be  excused. 
Sonnenkamp  smiled,  for  he  knew  that  it  had 
never  occurred  to  Frau  Ceres  to  send  an  ex- 
cuse, and  that  Fräulein  Perini  had  done  it 
of  her  own  accord ;  and  it  was  well  for  her 
to  do  so,  he  thought,  for  the  refractory  dis- 
position of  his  wife  led  her  to  turn  away 
from  the  guests  intruding  upon  her  privacy, 
and  her  strong  point  was  in  declining ;  she 
allowed  nothing  to  approach  her.  Fräulein 
Perini  manifestly  took  very  great  pains  to 
render  herself  as  agreeable  as  possible  to 
the  Professor's  widow,  and  was  grateful 
as  a  child  when  she  was  shown  how  to 
execute  a  new  piece  of  handiwork. 

The  Cabiuetsräthin  served  as  a  very  ex- 
cellent means  of  bringing  them  together. 
There  was  something  exceedingly  captivat- 
ing in  the  way  in  which  she  so  very  modest- 
ly placed  herself  as  the  inferior  of  the  Pro- 
fessorin, giving  to  her  the  position  of  honor 
which  she  might  perhaps  have  attained  as  a 
right,  but  which  was  now  conceded  to  her 
by  sovereign  grace  ;  for  the  Cabinetsräthin 
repeatedly  said,  that  the  Professorin  had 
been  the  first  lady  at  the  court  in  her  day, 
and  that  even  now,  if  the  court  circle  wanted 
to  specify  any  exalted  excellence,  they 
pointed  to  her.  She  found  herself,  at  first, 
put  under  some  degree  of  constraint  by  be- 
ing placed  upon  such  an  elevated  pinnacle, 
but  she  was  grateful  to  the  illustrious  lady 
for  her  evident  endeavor  to  convert  her  con- 
dition of  dependence  and  poverty  into  one 
which  was  regarded  Avith  respectful  homage. 

Fräulein  Perini  herself  was  subdued  by 
this  character  so  calmly  dignified,  this  coun- 
tenance so  placid  and  open,  so  beaming 
with  youthful  brightness,  so  benignantly  ra- 
diant that  nothing  unworthy  or  impure 
could  approach ;  and  in  this  countenance 
the  heart  manifested  itself,  always  young, 
full  of  the  inspiration  that  had  been  awakened 
by  the  ideal  life  of  her  husband,  and  that 
was  now  called  forth  by  the  presence  of  her 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


241 


son.  She  said  the  simplest  things  with  such 
charming  grace,  that  they  appeared  to  be  of 
great  importance,  and  with  such  freshness, 
that  it  seemed  as  if  this  were  the  first  time 
they  had  ever  been  known. 

While  they  were  together  at  noon,  a  let- 
ter came  from  Bella.  She  sent  a  welcome 
to  the  Professor's  widow,  and  appointed  the 
next  day  for  a  visit. 

Frau  Dournay  wished  to  send  back  an 
answer  by  the  messenger,  but  he  had  been 
immediately  sent  off,  no  one  knew  why. 
It  was  Sonnenkamp  who  had  given  the  or- 
der, and  when  she  despatched  her  letter 
through  a  messenger  attached  to  the  house, 
it  strayed  first  into  Sonnenkamp's  cabinet, 
who  understood  how  to  open  it  very  dex- 
terously, and  who  read  with  great  satisfac- 
tion the  reply  which  was  no  less  decided 
than  it  was  delicate  in  expression.  Sonnen- 
kamp smiled  as  he  read  where  the  lady  laid 
stress  upon  the  fact  that  she  was  the  guest 
of  the  family,  received  as  such  in  the  kindest 
manner,  and  begged  that  the  promised  visit 
might  be  made  to  them,  and  to  herself  as  their 
visitor. 

Sonnenkamp  smiled  again  and  again,  for 
he  confidently  expected  that  the  Professor's 
widow  would  compel  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood to  accept  himself,  finally,  as  a  member, 
in  full  standing,  of  their  social  body. 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  IGNORANT  IS  READY  TO  BE  TAUGHT. 

Sonnen  KAMP  went  from  his  cabinet  to  the 
room  of  Frau  Ceres  ;  she  sent  word  to  him 
in  the  ante-chamber  by  a  maid,  that  she 
desired  to  see  no  one.  Paying  no  attention 
to  the  message,  he  went  in  and  found  her 
lying  on  the  sofa,  with  the  curtains  drawn, 
so  that  in  the  large  room  there  was  a  dusky 
twilight.  Frau  Ceres  looked  at  him  with 
her  large  dark  eyes,  but  spoke  not  a  word, 
only  extending  to  him  her  delicate,  small 
hand  with  long  finger-nails.  He  kissed  the 
hand,  and  then  seated  himself  by  the  side  of 
his  wife. 

There  was  silence  for  sometime,  and  then 
he  began  to  explain  to  her  that  a  nearer 
approach  was  to  be  made  to  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  plan  through  the  guest  now  in 
the  house,  for  this  lady's  hand  would  open 
the  folding-doors  of  the  apartments  of  the 
princely  palace. 

At  the  mention  of  the  palace,  Frau  Ceres 
raised  herself  a  little;  her  restless  look 
showed  how  she  was  stirred  by  hope ;  for, 
beyond  the  sea,  and  in  all  his  devious  wan- 
derings, Sonnenkamp  had  always  held  be- 
fore his  wife  this  idea,  like  some  bright 


fairy-tale,  that  she  would  be  able  to  enter 
into  the  court-circle,  arid  it  seemed  to  her 
as  if  she  were  to  be  introduced  into  some 
heavenly  sphere,  where  everything  was  re- 
splendent and  glorious,  a  perpetual  round 
of  godlike  existence.  Such  was  the  idea 
Frau  Ceres  had  entertained  of  court-life. 
She  was  aware  now  that  this  was  an  exag- 
gerated notion,  but,  wherever  she  went,  she 
heard  of  this  good  fortune,  and  saw  that 
every  one  was  striving  towards  the  court- 
circle,  and  she  was  angry  with  her  husband, 
that-  his  promises  made  so  often  and  so  long 
ago  had  never  been  fulfilled.  They  came 
to  Europe  ;  they  had  retired  into  seclusion, 
where  people  said  everything  was  so  beau- 
tiful, but  whence  she  was  continually  ex- 
pecting to  be  summoned  to  Court. 

Why  is  there  so  long  delay  ?  Why  are 
people  so  distant?  Even  Bella,  the  only 
one  who  exhibited  any  friendliness,  treated 
her  like  a  parrot,  like  some  strange  bird 
whose  bright  plumage  she  was  amused  with, 
but  with  whom  she  had  nothing  more  to  do 
than  from  time  to  time  to  give  it  a  lump  of 
sugar,  and  address  to  it  some  casual,  pretty 
word.  Even  the  recollection  of  her  having 
surpassed  all  others  in  splendor  at  the  fete 
of  Herr  von  Endlich  was  only  half  satisfac- 
tory to  Frau  Ceres. 

In  the  midst  of  all  her  apparent  listless- 
ness  and  want  of  interest  in  external  things, 
she  was  continually  harping  upon  one 
thought,  and  this  thought  had  been  instilled 
into  her  by  Sonnenkamp  ;  but  it  had  become 
stronger  than  he  desired,  taking  exclusive 
possession  of  her  being. 

He  understood  how  to  represent  in  a  very 
plausible  way,  that  the  Professorin — to 
whom  the  Cabinetsrathin  herself  looked  up, 
because  she  had  been  the  favorite  and  most 
influential  lady  of  the  Court,  even  the  friend 
and  confidante  of  the  Princess-dowager  — 
that  this  lady  would  give  to  the  whole  family 
a  new  splendor,  and  surely  be  the  means  of 
their  attaining  the  desired  end. 

Sonnenkamp  succeeded  in  impressing  her 
so  deeply  with  his  sagacity,  that  Frau  Ceres 
at  last  yielded,  saying,  — 

"You  are,  in  fact,  very  wise.  I  will 
speak  to  the  tutor's  mother." 

He  now  proceeded  to  give  some  instruc- 
tions, how  she  should  bear  herself  towards 
her,  but,  like  a  spoiled  child,  — even  almost 
like  an  irrational  animal,  Frau  Ceres  shrieked 
out,  clapp.ed  her  hands,  stamped  her  feet, 
crying,  — 

"I  won't  have  any  instructions!  not 
a  word  more  !    Bring  the  lady  to  me  !  " 

Sonnenkamp  went  to  the  Widow,  deeply 
moved  and  troubled ;  he  wanted  to  give  to 
her  some  directions  in  regard  to  her  inter- 


242 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


view  with  his  wife,  but  was  afraid  of  every 
hint,  and  only  said,  — 

"  My  dear  little  wife  has  been  a  little 
spoiled,  and  is  very  nervous." 

Eric's  mother  visited  Frau  Ceres,  and 
found  her  lying  quietly  upon  the  sofa ;  she 
had  sense  enough  to  know  that  the  less  demon- 
strative one  is,  the  more  effect  does  one 
produce  upon  others. 

When  the  visitor  on  entering  made  a 
very  graceful  courtesy,  Frau  Ceres  suddenly 
forgot  everything,  and  before  a  word  could 
be  said,  she  cried,  — 

"  You  must  teach  me  that !  I  would  like 
to  courtesy  in  that  way.  Is  not  that  the 
way  they  do  at  Court  ?  " 

The  visitor  knew  not  what  to  reply.  Is 
this  something  worse  than  a  nervous  person, 
—  is  she  insane  ?  She  retained  self-command 
enough,  however,  to  say  :  — 

"  I  can  very  well  conceive  that  our  forms 
must  be  rather  strange  to  you,  in  your  free 
Republic ;  I  think  that  it  is  better  at  the 
first  interview  to  shake  hands.'1 

She  extended  her  hand,  which  Frau  Ceres 
took,  and  rose  as  if  forgetting  herself. 

"  You  are  ill,  I  will  not  disturb  you  any 
longer,'1  said  the  Professor's  widow. 

Frau  Ceres  considered  it  would  be  better 
to  pass  for  a  sick  person,  and  said,  — 

"Ah,  yes!  I  am  always  ill.  But  I 
beseech  you,  remain." 

And  when  the  Mother  now  addressed  her, 
the  sound  of  her  voice,  its  tones  of  deep 
feeling,  made  such  an  impression  upon  her 
excitable  nature,  that  she  closed  her  eyes, 
and  when  she  opened  them,  great  tear-drops 
stood  upon  her  long  lashes. 

The  Mother  expressed  her  regret  that 
she  had  made  her  shed  tears,  but  Frau 
Ceres  shook  her  head  violently. 

"No,  no,  I  thank  you.  I  have  not  been 
able  to  weep  for  years  —  these  tears  have 
lain  here  —  here."  She  struck  her  bosom 
with  violence.     "  I  thank  you." 

The  Mother  wanted  mow  to  withdraw, 
but  Frau  Ceres  rose  up  quickly,  went  up 
to  her  as  she  stood  there  struck  with  aston- 
ishment, and  shrinking  as  if  from  a  crazy 
person,  fell  on  her  knees  before  her,  and 
kissed  her  hand,  crying,  — 

"Protect  me!  Be  a  mother  to  me;  I 
have  never  called  anyone  mother;  I  have 
never  known  a  mother." 

The  Mother  raised  her  up,  saying,  — 

"  My  child,  I  can  be  a  mother  to  you  — 
I  can  and  will.  I  am  happy  that  such  fair 
tasks  are  assigned  me  here,  tasks  that  I  can 
lovingly  fulfil.    But  now  be  composed." 

She  led  Frau  Ceres  back  to  the  sofa, 
carefully  helped  her  to  lie  down,  and  covered 
her  with  a  large  shawl ;  it  was  an  odd  com- 


plication of  soft  cushions  in  which  she 
always  lay  muffled,  as  if  she  were  buried. 

She  held  the  Mother's  hand  fast,  and 
sobbed  without  cessation. 

The  Mother  now  extolled  their  happiness 
in  having  each  of  them  such  a  son,  speak- 
ing less  of  Eric  than  of  Roland ;  and  as 
she  went  on  to  relate  how  in  the  twilight 
he  had  appeared  like  the  transfigured  form- 
of  her  own  dead  child,  Frau  Ceres  turned 
towards  her  and  kissed  her  hand.  She 
proceeded  quietly  to  speak  of  herself  as  a 
person  of  many  peculiarities,  which  ren- 
dered it  no  easy  thing  for  any  one  to  live 
with  her ;  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
being  too  much  alone,  and  she  feared  that 
she  was  not  young  enough  and  had  not 
animal  spirits  sufficient  to  be  the  companion 
of  a  lady  who  had  every  claim  to  the  bril- 
liancy and  joy  of  a  stirring  life. 

Frau  Ceres  requested  her  to  draw  back 
the  curtains  a  little,  and  as  she  saw  her 
more  plainly  she  smiled ;  but  immediately 
her  countenance,  with  the  fine,  half-opened 
mouth,  assumed  again  the  listless  look 
which  was  its  habitual  expression  ;  she  took 
the  fan  and  fanned  herself. 

At  last  she  said,  — 

"Ah  yes,  to  learn!  You  cannot  think 
how  stupid  I  am,  and  yet  I  would  so  like 
to  be  clever,  and  I  would  have  learned  so 
many  things,  but  he  never  wanted  me  to, 
and  has  not  let  me  learn  anything,  and 
always  said :  '  You  are  fairest  and  dearest  to 
me  just  as  you  are.'  Yes,  it  may  be  to  him, 
but  not  to  myself.  If  Madame  Perini  were 
not  so  kind,  I  don't  know  indeed  what  I 
should  do.  Do  you  play  whist?  Do  you 
love  nature  ?  I  am  verv  simple,  am  I 
not  ?  " 

Perhaps  Frau  Ceres  expected  that  the 
mother  would  contradict  her,  but  she  did 
not,  only  saying  :  — 

"  If  there  .is  anything  that  I  can  teach 
you,  I'll  do  it  cheerfully.  I  have  known  other 
ladies  like  yourself,  and  I  could  tell  you 
why  you  are  always  ailing." 

"  Why  !    Do  you  know  that  ?  you  ?  " 

"  Yes'  but  it  is  not  flattering." 

"  Ah,  no  matter;  tell  me." 

"  My  dear  child,  you  are  all  the  time  ill, 
because  you  are  all  the  time  idle.  If  a 
person  has  nothing  to  do,  then  his  health 
gives  him  something  to  do." 

"  Oh,  you  are  wise,  but  I  am  weak,"  said 
Frau  Ceres. 

And  there  was  in  her  an  utter  helpless- 
ness and  weakness  ;  she  looked  upon  her- 
self, and  was  looked  upon  by  Sonnenkamp, 
as  a  fragile  toy ;  and  at  the  same  time  she 
was  indolent,'  and  the  least  effort  was  a ' 
burden  to  her.    She  did  not  know  whether 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


243 


to  hear  or  to  see  required  the  greater  exer- 
tion ;  but  she  found  the  latter  the  greater 
bore,  for  while  one  was  reading  one  must 
hold  the  book  and  hold  one's  self  in  a  par- 
ticular position,  and  therefore  she  always 
let  Fraulein. Perini  read  aloud  to  her;  this 
had  the  advantage  that  one  could  go  to 
sleep  whenever  there  was  the  inclination. 

This  was  the  case  now. 

Whilst  the  Mother  was  speaking,  Frau 
Ceres  suddenly  let  go  her  hand,  and  it  was 
soon  evident  that  the  reclining  one  had 
fallen  asleep  ;  Frau  Dournay  sat  there  in  that 
chamber  furnished  splendidly  and  richly  as 
if  it  were  an  apartment  in  some  fairy  tale. 
She  held  her  breath,  and  did  not  know 
what  course  to  take.  What  is  the  meaning 
of  all  this  ?  Here  are  riddles  in  plenty. 
She  did  not  dare  to  change  her  position, 
for  she  was  afraid  of  waking  the  sleeper. 
The  latter  turned  now  and  said,  — 

"Ah,  go  now,  go  now,  —  I  will  come 
down  soon  myself."    She  left  the  room. 

Sonnenkamp  was  waiting  for  her  outside. 

"How  did  she  seem?"  he  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"Very  gentle  and  quiet,"  replied  the 
Mother.  "  But  I  have  one  request.  I  hope 
to  cure  the  excitability  or  lassitude  of  your 
wife,  but  I  beg  you  never  to  ask  me  what 
we  have  said  to  each  other.  If  I  am  to 
gain  her  entire  confidence,  I  must  be  able 
to  say  to  her  in  good  faith,  that  what  she 
tells  me  is  told  to  me  alone  ;  and  that  what  she 
imparts  to  me  will  never  pass  my  lips. 
Are  you  willing  to  promise  that  we  ladies 
shall  do  as  we  like  together  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Sonnenkamp.  It 
seemed  hard  for  him  to  consent,  but  he  felt 
that  he  must. 

chapter  in. 

A  NEIGHBOR  SECURED. 

Pranken  came  the  next  day,  and  when  he 
met  the  widow  of  the  Professor,  summoned 
to  his  aid  his  most  polished  manner ;  she 
gave  him  to  understand  at  once,  that  she 
regarded  him  as  a  son  of  the  house.  She 
did  this  with  so  much  delicacy  and  such  a 
charming  tact,  that  Pranken  was  extremely 
delighted. 

When  she  thanked  him  for  having  been 
the  means  of  obtaining  such  a  position  for 
Eric,  he  declined  receiving  any  thanks  for 
what  he  had  done,  as  it  was  only  a  trifling 
amount  toward  the  payment  of  his  debt  to 
the  late  Professor,  to  whom  he  owed  all  the 
culture  he  possessed. 

He  said  this  with  a  tone  that  entirely  won 
the  Widow's  heart ;  she  could  make  allow- 
ance for  the  exaggeration  of  politeness,  but 


she  felt  there  was  a  basis  of  sincerity,  inas- 
much as  no  one,  unless  he  were  utterly 
abandoned,  could  have  come  within  the 
sphere  of  her  husband's  voice  and  eye, 
without  receiving  therefrom  a  good  influence 
for  life. 

Pranken  spoke  of  his  brother-in-law  and 
his  sister,  and  how  much  Eric  was  liked  and 
loved  at  Wolfsgarten  ;  and  he  conveyed  in 
a  happy  turn,  how  much  he  expected  the 
lady's  presence  would  effect  in  composing 
and  calming  the  recently  excited  and  dis- 
turbed state  of  his  sister.  He  hinted  at 
this  very  guardedly,  representing  only  how 
difficult  a  task  it  is  to  live  with  an  elderly 
man,  even  a  very  noble  one,  and  how  in 
some  unexpected  way  the  apparent  har- 
mony might  be  disturbed. 

She  understood  more  than  Pranken  im- 
agined, and  she  was  very  glad  to  find  the 
young  man  disposed,  in  the  retirement  of 
country  life,  to  a  deeper  consideration  of 
the  influence  of  one  human  being  upon 
another. 

Pranken  could  not  refrain  from  disclosing 
something  of  his  religious  transformation, 
but  he  did  it  as  an  act  of  special  confidence. 
There  was  suddenly  presented  to  him  the 
vision  of  this  lady  near  Manna,  who  would 
lay  open  to  her  her  whole  soul,  and  would 
be  assured  that  he  acknowledged  his  inward 
change  to  the  whole  world  ;  and  it  just  oc- 
curred to  him  now,  that  the  Superior  had 
spoken  in  high  praise  of  this  "lady  in  Man- 
na's presence.  A  smile  came  upon  his  lips, 
for  he  thought  how  excellent  a  use  could  be 
made  of  her  in  diverting  Manna  from  her 
childish  intention  of  taking  the  veil,  al- 
though it  was  in  every  way  to  be  deplored 
that  this  lady  was  not  a  member  of  the  same 
church. 

He  then  invited  the  Professor's  widow, 
by  Sonnenkamp's  request,  to  drive  with 
them  to  the  country-house  which  the  Cab- 
inetsrathin  —  he  corrected  himself  immedi- 
ately and  said  the  Cabinetsrath  —  thought 
of  purchasing ;  she  would  certainly  do  her 
part  towards  securing  such  an  agreeable 
neighbor  for  Herr  Sonnenkamp.  Her  ob- 
jection, that  she  was  hardly  yet  settled,  was 
flatteringly  set  aside. 

The  carriage  drove  up. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  and  Sonnenkamp 
entered,  and  the  mother  must  drive  with 
them  to  the  viUa  now  for  sale.  They  were 
in  extreme  good  humor  on  the  way,  but  in- 
voluntarily there  came  over  Eric's  mother 
j  the  thought  that  she  was  mixed  up  in  some 
sort  of  intrigue,  and  that  her  simplicity  was 
made  use  of  for  some  interested  purpose. 
What  it  was,  she  was  wholly  ignorant.  She 
felt  serious  anxiety,  and  this  positively  in- 


244 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


creased  when  Sonnenkamp  said,  as  they  en- 
tered the  house,  that  it  belonged  to  him,  and 
he  -was  glad  to  be  able  to  pass  it  over  to  his 
noble  neighbor. 

What  does  this  mean?  Has  a  surprise 
been  prepared  for  her  ?  Does  Sonnenkamp 
mean  to  give  her  the  house  ? 

She  was  soon  aware  of  her  mistake,  for 
the  Cabinetsrathin  immediately  proceeded 
to  assign  the  rooms  to  herself,  her  husband, 
and  her  children.  She  had  two  sons  in  the 
army,  and  one  invalid  daughter ;  rooms  were 
also  designated  for  her  grandchildren,  and 
when  she  was  looking  for  a  choice  spot  for 
herself,  Sonnenkamp  promised  to  have  the 
grounds  laid  out  anew.  She  was  amazed  to 
find  what  capabilities  the  grounds  possessed. 

Sonnemkamp  was  extremely  complaisant ; 
it  had  been,  indeed,  his  desire  to  reserve 
the  country-seat  as  the  payment  for  his  pa- 
tent of  nobility, —  for  the  sum  to  be  paid  by 
the  Cabinetsrath  was  merely  nominal, —  but 
he  had  been  obliged  to  give  way  to  Pran- 
ken^ representations  that  this  was  utterly 
impracticable,  and  that  it  was  much  wiser 
to  be  on  neighborly  terms  with  so  influen- 
tial a  man,  as  thus  every  thing  would  come 
about  much  more  naturally. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  sat  with  the  Profes- 
sors widow  in  the  garden,  and  endeavored 
to  impress  upon  her  that  she  would  surely 
be  glad,  through  her  great  influence,  to  aid 
the  Sonnenkamp  family  in  obtaining  the 
rank  which  was  their  due  ;  at  first  she  went 
no  farther,  but  it  was  her  fixed  plan  that  the 
widow  should  apply  the  main  lever,  and  that 
neither  she  nor  her  husband  should  take  a 
prominent  part.  Should  the  plan  miscarry, 
they  would  remain  concealed,  and  the 
learned  widow,  who  was  reputed  as  some- 
what erratic,  would  be  the  only  one  com- 
mitted. 

Under  high-sounding  and  lofty  expres- 
sions of  magnanimity  and  disinterestedness, 
there  was  a  hidden  policy  not  easily  unrav- 
elled. 

When  Pranken  was  alone  with  Sonnen- 
kamp and  the  Cabinetsrathin,  Sonnenkamp 
smiled,  as  one  does  who  considers  it  a  good 
joke  to  allow  himself  for  once  to  be  circum- 
vented. He  listened  in  a  very  friendly  way 
while  Pranken  was  representing  to  him  that 
the  Cabinetsrath  must  be  put  in  possession 
of  the  house  at  onCe,  for  if  it  were  done 
later,  either  shortly  before  or  shortly  after 
the  consummation  of  their  wishes,  it  would 
give  rise  to  scandalous  remarks. 

Sonnenkamp  smilingly  congratulated  his 
young  friend  on  being  so  well-fitted  for  a 
diplomatic  career ;  it  was  not  denied  by 
Pranken  that  he  should  adopt  that  as  his 
employment,  rather  than   the  life   of  a 


landed  proprietor,  provided  it  could 
done  with  the  consent  of  those  nearest 
him,  and  of  his  fatherly  friend,  as  he  termed 
Sonnenkamp. 

Pranken  knew  a  very  accommodating 
notary,  who  came  that  very  evening. 

The  purchase  was  concluded,  and  the 
Cabinetsrath  was  the  neighbor  of  Herr 
Sonnenkamp. 

As  Sohnenkamp  was  taking  a 


walk  with 
latter  for 
expected 


Pranken  in  the  mild  evening,  the 
the  first  time  shrank  from  his 
father-in-law,  when  he  said,  — 

"  My  dear  young  friend,' you  must  cer- 
tainly have  had  something  to  do  with  usurers 
before  this.  I  know  these  tender-hearted 
brethren ;  they  hang  together  like  a  secret 
priesthood.  But  I  would  say  to  you,  that 
the  most  delectable  insight  into  the  so- 
called  human  soul  would  be  furnished  by  a 
history  of  bribery.  I  am  acquainted  with 
the  different  nations  and  races,  I  have  tried 
it  everywhere,  and  it  has  hardly  ever  been 
unsuccessful.'1 

Pranken  looked  strangely  at  the  man. 
He  had  confidence  in  him;  but  that  he 
should  speak  so  freely  of  the  bribery  of  all 
nations  disturbed  him  somewhat,  and  it 
pained  him  greatly  to  think  that  he  himself 
was  to  be  son  of  such  a  man. 

Sonnenkamp  continued  good-humoredly, 

"You  evidently  entertain  the  old  prejudice 
that  bribery  is  a  bad  thing,  just  as  a  little 
while  ago  usury  was  regarded  to  be.  It's 
nothing  but  a  matter  of  business,  and  it's  a 
stupid  thing  for  the  government  to  require 
an  oath  from  persons,  that  their  transac- 
tions shall  not  be  affected  by  any  receiving 
of  money.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it 
may  be,  and  it  usually  is,  with  the  judges, 
only  a  matter  of  form ;  when  it  comes  to 
that  point,  a  rich  man  knows  how  to  get  ofF, 
provided  he  hasn't  foolishly  gone  too  far. 
It's  very  curious,  that  among  other  nations, 
among  the  Romans  and  the  Sclaves,  men 
took  the  offered  ihoney,  and,  under  some 
form  or  other,  gave  an  opportunity  for 
competition  in  bidding ;  but  among  the 
simpering  Germanic  people,  the  women  are 
employed  in  this  business.  Of  course!. 
Among  no  people  in  the  world  are  so  many 
cows  employed  in  agriculture  as  among  the 
Germans,  and  in  this  business,  too,  they 
harness  in  the  cows.  Here  the  lady  must- 
be  applied  to  in  extremely  gallant  style,  and 
I  must  confess  that  I  would  much  rather 
deal  with  the  women,  for  they  keep  their 
word ;  there's  nothing  more  common  than 
to  give  a  bribe,  and  to  have  the  bribee  fail 
to  keep  his  promise,  unless  another  is  added 
just  as  large.    My  father  " 

Pranken  started.    For  the  first  time  in 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


245 


his  life,  Sonnenkamp  spoke  of  his  father, 
but  he  went  on  quietly,  — 

"  My  father  was  a  connoisseur  in  the  art 
of  bribery,  and  in  Poland  his  'way  was,  to 
give  a  man  a  note  for  a  hundred  or  a  thou- 
sand dollars,  as  it  might  be,  but  he  tore  the 
note  in  two,  kept  one  part  himself  and  gave 
the  other  to  the  person  bribed,  surrender- 
ing his  own  half  only  when  he  had  gained 
his  end.  You  do  not  think  it  is  necessary 
to  divide  thus  with  the  Cabinetsrathin  ?  " 

Pranken  felt  hurt  to  hear  a  lady  of  the 
nobility  pointed  out  and  arraigned  in  this 
,  style.  He  gave  Sonnenkamp  the  most  con- 
clusive assurances,  who  said  further, — 

"All  proceeds  in  a  regular  order,  and 
what  is  designated  by  the  old-fashioned 
word  bribery,  is  a  necessary  consequence 
of  an  advanced  civilization.  As  soon  as  a 
people  enters  into  complex  relations,  bribery 
is  there,  must  be  there,  sometimes  open, 
sometimes  concealed;  and  I  know  this, 
that  nothing  has  a  greater  variety  of  forms 
than  bribery." 

As  Pranken  stood  there  in  fixed  amaze- 
ment, Sonnenkamp,  taking  his  arm,  con- 
tinued, — 

"Young  friend,  it  is  the  same  thing 
whether  I  buy  an  agent  or  a  vote  for  my 
election  as  member  of  Parliament  or  of 
Congress,  or  whether  I  buy  an  agent  or  a 
vote  to  make  me  a  noble.  In  America  we 
are  more  open  about  it.  Why  should  not 
this  Cabinetsrath  and  his  spouse  make  some 
profit  out  of  their  position  ?  Their  position 
is  their  whole  property  and  capital.  I  am 
glad  —  it's  all  in  order.  In  Germany  you 
are  obliged  to  cloak  matters  over  respecta- 
bly. It's  all  the  same.  If  you  take  up  the 
diplomatic  career,  as  I  hope  you  will,  I 
shall  be  able  to  give  you  a  good  many  les- 
sons.'1 

Pranken  declared  himself  ready  to  learn  a 
great  deal,  but  inwardly  he  had  an  inex- 
pressible dread  of  this  man,  and  this  dread 
changed  into  contempt.  He  proposed  to 
himself,  if  he  ever  married  Manna,  to  keep 
away  from  this  man  as  far  as  possible. 

Sonnenkamp  was  so  happy  in  finding  a 
fresh  confirmation  of  his  knowledge  of  men, 
that  he  endeavored  to  impart  it  to  his  own 
son. 

The  next  morning,  as  they  were  leaving 
the  breakfast-table,  at  which  the  Cabinets- 
rathin had  been  present,  he  took  Roland 
with  him  into  the  park,  saying  to  him,  — 

"  Look,  these  noble  people  !    All  a  pure 
cheat !    This  Cabinetsrath  and  his  family, 
)  they  are  beggars,  and  I  make  them  persons 
j  of  property.   Don't  let  it  out,  but  you  ought 
to  know  it.    They  are  all  a  rabble ;  great 
!  and  small,  high  and  low,  they  are  all  wait- 


ing to  have  an  offer  for  their  souls  as  they 
call  them.  Every  one  in  the  world  is  to  be 
had  for  money." 

He  took  delight  in  dwelling  upon  this  at 
length ;  he  had  not  the  remotest  conception 
what  a  deep  commotion  and  revolution  this 
was  exciting  in  the  youth's  soul. 

Roland  sat  speechless,  and  Sonnenkamp 
turned  over  in  his  mind  whether  he  had  acted 
properly,  but  soon  quieted  his  doubts. 
Religion,  virtue,  all  is  an  illusion.  Some 

—  this  Herr  Dournay  is  one  of  that  number 

—  still  believe  in  their  illusions,  and  impose 
upon  themselves  and  upon  the  world.  It 
is  better,  he  quieted  himself  in  conclusion, 
that  Roland  should  know  all  to  be  a  mere 
illusion. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  DIFFERENT  ATMOSPHERE. 

After  the  first  days,  the  Mother  under- 
stood what  her  son  meant  when  he  com- 
plained of  the  difficulty  of  maintaining  a 
steady  and  firm  hold  upon  thought,  in  the 
midst  of  the  distractions  with  which  he  had 
to  contend,  like  those  upon  a  journey.  In 
such  a  house  as  this,  with  extensive  posses- 
sions and  a  great  variety  of  duties,  that  de- 
votion of  the  mind,  which  is  so  necessary 
for  the  thorough  acquisition  of  any  branch  of 
knowledge,  is  continually  interfered  with, 
and  it  is  even  difficult,  in  such  relations,  not 
to  lose  one's  self.  Without  laying  out  any 
programme,  at  any  rate  without  any  an- 
nouncement of  one,  she  resolved  to  reg- 
ulate her  own  method  of  living ;  only  when 
one  possesses  himself  can  he  have  anything 
to  supply  to  the  calls  of  others. 

Eric  and  Roland  went  every  day  to  bid 
her  good-morning,  and  a  consecrated  sphere 
soon  encompassed  the  mother ;  whoever 
approached  her  acquired,  in  a  degree,  a 
nobler  bearing,  and  pitched  his  conversa- 
tion to  a  musical  and  well-tuned  key.  She 
had  sterling  good  sense,  without  any  claim 
to  originality  or  genius  either  in  her  own 
eyes  or  those  of  others ;  her  mind  was  not 
intuitional  but  logical,  and  what  she  com- 
prehended and  discovered  by  investigation 
appeared  to  her  to  be  necessarily  true  ;  she 
made  as  little  show  of  knowledge  as  of  dress, 
for  it  is  a  matter  of  course  that  one  should 
be  neatly  dressed. 

Chasteness,  in  the  highest  and  purest  sig- 
nification of  the  word,  was  the  impression 
which  the  Mother  made,  both  in  regard  to 
her  external  appearance  and  her  inner  be- 
ing ;  she  was  pure  in  thought,  and  pure  in 
feeling ;  she  had  been  for  thirteen  years  a 
lady  of  the  court,  and  knew  the  world ;  but 
she  retained  something  of  an  ideal  atmos- 


246 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


phere ;  she  knew  vice  and  believed  in  vir- 
tue ;  she  was  quick  and  cautious,  ready 
to  accept  the  gage  of  battle  and  nobly 
yielding,  at  the  same  time. 

If  she  were  externally  and  superficially 
compared  with  Bella,  the  older  lady  would 
be  at  a  disadvantage ;  but  on  a  nearer  con- 
sideration, she  had  something  satisfying  in 
her  presence  and  conversation,  while  Bella 
was  only  exciting. 

Bella  not  only  desired  to  excite  attention 
to  her  personal  appearance  and  her  senti- 
ments, but  she  was  also  fond  of  proposing 
subjects  for  discussion,  and  propounding  the 
most  difficult  questions ;  she  was  always 
putting  something  forth  and  making  a  stir. 
She  gave  very  cursory  and  off-hand  replies 
to  what  was  said  to  her,  and  could  set  out 
in  good  style  what  she  heard,  so  as  to  be 
extremely  taking  at  the  first  acquaintance, 
but  a  longer  familiarity  with  her  showed 
that  it  was  merely  fluent  talk. 

The  Professorin,  on  the  other  hand,  made 
no  demands,  was  grateful  for  all  that  was 
offered,  and  was  ready  to  lend  it  serious 
thought. 

Externally,  the  ladies  could  hardly  be 
compared,  for  the  personal  appearance  of 
the  Professorin  was  not  what  would  be 
called  distinguished ;  she  was  somewhat 
plump  in  figure,  of  a  pale  blond  complexion, 
and  that  fresh  purity  of  look  which  one  sees 
portrayed  in  the  pictures  of  well-preserved 
women  of  Holland.  Her  strongest  character- 
istic was  a  uniform  reserve  ;  she  could  listen 
quietly  to  every  communication,  and  she 
could  withhold  her  reply,  if  she  had  any 
opinion  to  express,  until  she  had  patiently 
heard  all  that  was  to  be  said. 

When  questions  were  addressed  immedi- 
ately to  her,  to  which  she  did  not  want  to 
give  a  direct  reply,  she  had  the  faculty  of 
not  seeming  to  hear  them ;  and  if  she  were 
pressed  to  give  a  decided  reply,  she  an- 
swered only  just  so  far  as  she  thought  best, 
never  allowing  herself  to  be  urged  beyond 
a  prescribed  limit. 

She  soon  became  the  centre  of  the  circle. 
The  fundamental  trait  which  characterized 
all  that  she  said  and  did  was  truthfulness  : 
she  never  spoke  for  effect,  she  never  smiled 
when  there  was  nothing  to  smile  at;  she 
gave  to  every  utterance  of  her  own  the  nat- 
ural tone,  and  to  every  utterance  of  others 
the  requisite  degree  of  attention.  This 
truthfulness  was  not  compromised  in  the 
least  by  her  reserve,  for  she  never  violated 
the  truth  in  the  smallest  particular,  and  it 
is  not  necessary  to  speak  out  everything  that 
one  knows  and  thinks.  This  is  not  crafti- 
ness ;  it  is  rather  the  simple  dictate  of  pru- 
dence, and  prudence  is  a  virtue  too ;  it  is 


the  same  thing  as  goodness  ;  nature  herself 
is  prudent,  that  is  to  say,  veiled. 

She  was  very  happy  to  indulge  and  culti- 
vate her  fondness  for  botany  by  means  of 
Sonnenkamp's  splendid  collection  of  plants, 
and  his  essentially  valuable  communications. 

The  Mother  and  Aunt  lived  together  in 
perfect  harmony,  and  yet  were  very  differ- 
ent in  character ;  and  as  they  had  very  dif- 
ferent spheres  of  knowledge  in  which  they 
found  enlivenment,  so  also  they  had  differ- 
ent spheres  of  life.  Their  amateur-pursuits 
were  the  two  most  beautiful  in  the  whole 
circle  of  sciences.  The  Professorin  Avas  a 
botanist,  Aunt  Claudine  an  astronomer, 
sedulously  avoiding,  indeed,  every  appear- 
ance of  the  bluestocking ;  she  passed  many 
silent  evenings  in  the  tower  making  obser- 
vations of  her  own,  generally  through  a 
small  telescope,  without  any  one's  being 
aware  of  the  fact. 

The  Professorin  took  delight  in  spending 
several  hours  every  day  in  the  hot-houses, 
and  among  the  rare  imported  plants  ;  and 
when  Sonnenkamp  one  day  showed  her  his 
method  of  training  fruit-trees,  she  did  not 
express  admiration  and  astonishment  as 
other  people  did,  but  exhibited  a  great  pro- 
ficiency in  the  knowledge  of  the  new  French 
art  of  gardening,  and  remarked  how  pe- 
culiar it  was  that  the  restless  French  peo- 
ple, when  they  withdrew  from  the  whirl  of 
active  life,  should  devote  themselves  with 
such  tender  and  persistent  care  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  fruit.  Sonnenkamp's  counte- 
nance gleamed  with  pleasure,  when  sh*e 
maintained  that  in  orcharding,  as  he  prac- 
tised it,  there  was  the  unfolding  of  a  talent 
for  military  generalship,  inasmuch  as  he 
was  called  upon  to  decide  what  part  of  the 
fruit  should  be  allowed  to  mature,  and 
what  should  be  sacrificed  and  removed  in 
its  unripe  state  in  order  that  the  rest  might 
thrive. 

Sonnenkamp  expressed  himself  as  very 
much  obliged  for  the  compliment,  but  he 
smiled  inwardly,  thinking  that  he  saw 
through  the  fine  courtly  breeding ;  that  this 
lady,  before  she  came  there,  had  read  up 
in  his  favorite  pursuit,  in  order  to  render 
herself  agreeable  to  him.  He  received  this 
homage  in  an  apparently  natural  way,  as  if 
he  regarded  it  as  sincere ;  but  he  deter- 
mined not  to  allow  himself  to  be  taken  in 
by  any  such  arts. 

He  meant  to  offset  politeness  with  po- 
liteness ;  and  he  hastened  to  place  every- 
thing in  a  friendly  way  at  the  disposal  of 
the  Mother  and  Aunt  Claudine. 

Towards  Frau  Ceres  the  Professorin  soon 
established  a  definite  line  of  conduct,  al- 
lowing her  to  claim  but  a  limited  portion  of 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


247 


her  time;  and  now  Fran  Ceres  went  into 
other  rooms  than  her  own  apartments,  which 
she  had  never  done  before,  and  she  fre- 
quently sent  to  ask  the  Mother  if  she  might 
pay  her  a  visit ;  the  request  was  sometimes 
granted  and  sometimes  refused. 

Frau  Ceres  soon  felt  her  mental  influence, 
for  she  was  always  interested  in  some 
thought  or  other ;  she  was  like  a  priestess 
whose  vocation  it  was  to  cherish  perpet- 
ually a  little  flame  upon  an  altar.  When 
Frau  Ceres  was  eager  to  make  this  and 
that  inquiry  about  life  at  Court,  the  Pro- 
fessorin was  able,  in  an  unlooked-for  way, 
to  arouse  her  to  think,  and  take  an  inter- 
est in  general  matters. 

The  Aunt,  who  was  very  reserved  in  her 
manners,  brought  a  new  element  of  life  into 
the  house.  The  grand-piano  in  the  music- 
saloon,  that  had  lain  so  long  idle,  now  sent 
forth  clear  and  brilliant  tones  ;  and  Roland, 
who  had  wholly  neglected  musical  practice, 
entered  into  it  with  zest,  and  became  the 
aunt's  scholar.  The  house,  formerly  called 
dry  by  Eric  because  it  was  void  of  music, 
was  now  refreshed  and  steeped  in  harmony  ; 
it  was  a  cheerful  time  with  the  new  guests. 
Sonnenkamp's  countenance  acquired  an 
expression  of  satisfaction  such  as  it  had 
never  worn  before,  when  Frau  Ceres,  sit- 
ting by  him  in  the  music-saloon,  said..  — 

"I  cannot  conceive  how  it  used  to  be 
before  these  noble  ladies  were  here." 

One  day,  after  Aunt  Claudine  had  played 
beautifully,  and  had  repeated  a  piece  twice 
Jt  Eric's  request,  Frau  Ceres  said  to  the 
Mother :  — 

"I  envy  you,  that  you  can  so  compre- 
hend and  enjoy  all  this." 

She  evidently  plumed  herself  upon  this 
little  formula  learned  by  heart,  but  the 
Professorin  unintentionally  stripped  off 
this  pretty  adornment  by  saying :  — 

"  Each  one  has  his  own  satisfaction, 
either  in  nature  or  in  art,  if  he  is  only  true 
to  himself.  It  is  not  necessary  to  under- 
stand and  know  a  thing  thoroughly  before 
one  can  derive  pleasure  from  it.  I  take 
delight  in  these  mountains,  without  knowing 
how  high  they  are,  and  what  strata  they  are 
composed  of,  and  many  other  things  that 
men  of  science  are  acquainted  with.  So 
you  ran  take  pleasure  in  music.  Endeavor 
first  of  all  to  get  the  simple  truth,  and  try 
after  nothing  farther,  and  everything  else 
will  be  yours.11 

No  one  imagined,  not  even  Frau  Ceres 
herself,  that  she  went  out  of  the  music-sa- 
loon to-day  a  different  being ;  for  no  one  is 
able  to  say  what  word  will  have  a  direct 
influence  upon  a  thirsting,  aspiring,  and  re- 
ceptive heart  and  mind.    Frau  Ceres  was 


not  conscious  of  the  real  change  in  herself ; 
without  learning,  without  acquirements, 
one  can  enter  into  the  joys  of  life  and  of 
knowledge  through  one's  own  natural  sus- 
ceptibilities. 

The  quiet,  healthful  life  of  the  house  was 
suddenly  broken  in  upon  ;  a  carriage  rattled 
on  the  gravel  of  the  courtyard ;  a  silken 
train  rustled :  Bella  and  her  husband  made 
their  appearance. 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  DOUBLE  GAME. 

Like  a  bit  of  a  home  in  a  foreign  land 
comes  a  meeting  with  friends  among  new 
surroundings,  and  the  visit  of  Bella  and 
Clodwig  was  a  true  pleasure  to  Frau  Dour- 
nay  ;  Bella  embraced  her  rather  impetuous- 
ly, while  Clodwig  took  her  hand  in  both  of 
his. 

"  But  where  is  Eric?  11  asked  Bella  very 
soon,  holding  the  Aunt's  hand  fast,  as  if  she 
must  cling  to  something. 

With  an  uneasy  glance  first  at  Clodwig, 
then  at  Bella,  the  Mother  answered  that  it 
was  a  rule  not  to  allow  the  study-hours 
to  be  interrupted  even  by  so  pleasant  a 
family  occurrence  as  their  welcome  visit; 
she  emphasized  the  word  family,  and  Son- 
nenkamp, acknowledging  it  with  a  bow, 
said  that  an  exception  might  be  made  to-day, 
but  Clodwig  himself  begged  that  this  should 
not  be.  Bella  dropped  the  Aunt's  hand, 
and  stood  with  downcast  eyes,  while  the 
Professor's  widow  watched  her  closely. 

Bella  looked  fresh  and  animated ;  she 
was  in  full  dress,  and  wore  a  large  cape  of 
sky-blue  silk,  under  which  her  bare  arm 
was  seen  in  all  its  roundness. 

They  went  into  the  garden,  and  Sonnen- 
kamp was  pleased  to  hear  Frau  Dournay 
explaining  his  system  of  horticulture,  but  he 
left  them  in  order  to  announce  their  visit  to 
his  wife,  wishing  to  use  every  effort  to  pre- 
vent her  declaring  herself  ill. 

Bella  walked  with  the  Mother,  and  Clod- 
wig with  Aunt  Claudine,  with  whom  he  was 
soon  in  animated  conversation.  The  Aunt, 
who  was  an  accomplished  piano  player,  was 
herself  something  like  a  piano,  upon  which 
children  or  artists  can  play,  but  which,  if 
no  one  wished  to  do  so,  remains  quietly  in 
the  background. 

Bella  asked  Frau  Dournay  many  ques- 
tions as  to  the  impression  which  all  the 
family  made  upon  her,  but  she  received 
only  indirect  answers  :  she  talked  much  her- 
self ;  her  cheeks  glowed,  she  let  her  cape 
fall  a  little,  and  her  beautiful  full  shoulders 
were  seen. 

"  It's  a  pity  that  Clodwig  didn't  know 


248 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


your  sister-in-law  earlier,"  she  suddenly 
said. 

"He  did  know  her  well,  and,  unfor- 
tunately for  herself,  she  was,  as  you  know, 
a  much-admired  belle  at  court;  but  that 
was  long  before  your  time.11 

Bella  was  silent ;  Frau  Dournay  threw  a 
quick  searching  glance  at  her.  What  was 
passing  within  her  ?  what  did  this  restless 
fluttering  from  one  subject  to  another 
mean  ? 

Eric  and  Roland  came;  Bella  quickly 
drew  her  cape  over  her  shoulders  again, 
and  folded  her  arms  tightly  under  it,  hardly 
giving  Eric  the  tips  of  her  fingers. 

Roland  was  extremely  lively,  but  Eric 
seemed  very  serious ;  whenever  he  looked 
at  Bella,  he  turned  away  his  eyes  again  di- 
rectly. She  congratulated  him  on  his 
mother's  arrival,  and  said,  — 

"  I  think  if  a  stranger  met  you,  even  in 
travelling,  he  would  feel  that  you  are  still 
happy  enough  to  have  a  mother ;  and  what  a 
mother  she  is  {  A  man  seems  to  lose  a 
nameless  fragrance  when  his  mother  is  lost 
to  him." 

Bella  said  this  with  a  tone  of  feeling, 
and  yet  her  mouth  wore  a  peculiar  smile, 
and  her  eyes  seemed  to  seek  applause  for 
these  ideas. 

Sonnenkamp  joined  them,  and,  stroking 
his  chin  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  asked 
the  ladies  to  come  to  his  wife,  who  felt 
quite  revived  by  a  visit  from  such  guests. 
He  proposed  that  the  gentlemen  should 
drive  with  him  to  the  castle,  to  take  a  view 
of  the  progress  of  the  building,  and  of  the 
place  where  the  Roman  antiquities  had 
been  found.  Bella  merrily  upbraided  Son- 
nenkamp for  robbing  her  of  her  pleasant 
guests,  then  she  went  with  the  ladies  to  the 
garden-parlor,  while  the  gentlemen  pro- 
ceeded to  the  castle.  Frau  Ceres  was  soon 
ready  to  go  with  them  to  the  music-room, 
where  the  Aunt  readily  consented  to  play  to 
them  ;  Bella  sat  between  Frau  Dournay  and 
Frau  Ceres,  while  Fräulein  Perini  stood 
near  the  piano. 

When  the  first  piece  came  to  an  end, 
Bella  asked :  — 

"Fraulein  Dournay,  do  you  ever  play 
accompaniments  for  your  nephew?" 

The  Aunt  answered  in  the  negative. 
Again  the  Mother  threw  a  quick  look  at 
Bella,  who  seemed  to  be  thinking  con- 
stantly of  Eric,  and  not  to  be  able,  nor  in- 
deed to  wish,  to  conceal  it.  While  Fraulein 
Dournay  was  playing  again,  Bella  said  to 
the  mother :  — 

"You  must  give  me  something  of  your- 
self ;  let  me  have  your  sister-in-law  at 
Wolfsgarten." 


"  I  have  no  right  to  dispose  of  my 
sister.  But,  pardon  me,  a  word  spoken 
while  she  is  playing  annoys  her,  though 
she  makes  no  claim  for  herself  in  any 
other  respect." 

Bella  was  silent,  and  Frau  Dournay  also  ; 
but  while  listening  to  a  refreshing  bit 
of  Mozart's  music,  their  thoughts  took 
very  different  paths.  What  Bella's  were 
could  hardly  be  defined ;  her  whole  being 
was  thrilling  with  joy  and  pain,  renunciation 
and  defiance.  The  Professorin  owned  that 
her  instinctive  perceptions  were  confirmed, 
though  she  felt  as  if  they  left  a  stain  upon 
herself. 

When  the  piece  was  finished,  Bella  said: 
"  Ah,  Mozart  is  a  happy  being;  hard  as 
his  life  may  have  been,  he  was  happy 
always,  and  he  still  makes  others  happy 
whenever  they  listen  to  him  ;  even  his  sor- 
row and  mourning  have  a  certain  harmoni- 
ous serenity.  Did  your  husband  love  music 
too  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  he  often  said  that  men  in 
modern  times  express  in  music  that  imagina- 
tive romance  of  the  human  heart  which 
the  ancients  wove  into  their  myths.  Music 
transports  us  into  a  world  far  removed  from 
all  palpable  and  visible  existence,  and 
transports  us  waking  into  the  land  of 
dreams." 

Täiey  went  out  upon  the  balcony,  and 
played  with  the  parrots  ;  Bella  told  one  of 
them  a  marvellous  story  of  a  cousin  at  Wolfs- 
garten,  which  lived  in  a  wonderful  cage, 
sometimes  flying  off  into  the  woods  ;  but  it  wai 
too  gentlemanly  to  get  its  own  living  there, 
and  always  came  back  to  its  golden  cage. 

Bella's  cheeks  burned  hotter  and  hotter ; 
her  lips  trembled,  and  all  at  once  it  occurred 
to  her  that  she  must  settle  the  matter  then. 
She  spoke  to  Mother  and  Aunt  so  earnestly, 
and  yet  with  such  childlike  entreaties,  that 
they  at  last  agreed  that  the  Aunt  should  go 
to  her,  within  a  few  days,  and  remain  as 
her  guest. 

"  You  will  see,"  she  said,  in  low  but  half 
triumphant  tone  to  the  mother,  "  Fräulein 
Dournay  will  be  Clodwig's  best  friend ;  they 
are  exactly  made  for  each  other." 

Frau  Dournay  looked  fixedly  at  her. 
Has  it  come  to  this,  that  the  wife  wishes  to 
give  a  compensation  to  her  husband  ! 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  TROUBLED   BUT  HOPEFUL  MOTHER. 

The  ladies  withdrew  to  dress  for  din- 
ner. Frau  Dournay  had  let  clown  her 
long  gray  hair,  and  sat  some  time  speechless 
in  her  dressing-room,  with  her  hands  folded 
in  her  lap.    It  seemed  to  her  as  if  her  brain 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


249 


had  received  a  heavy  blow  from  what  she 
had  become  convinced  of  by  unmistakable 
indications.  Her  heart  contracted,  and  her 
tears  forced  themselves  into  her  eyes, 
though  they  would  not  fall.  Was  it  for  this 
that  a  chiid  was  cherished,  guarded,  and 
nurtured  by  all  that  was  best,  that  he  might 
end  thus  ?  No,  not  end,  —  begin  an  endless 
entanglement  which  must  lead  to  utter  ruin. 
Was  it  for  this  that  a  mind  was  endowed 
with  all  the  treasures  of  knowledge,  that 
they  might  be  turned  into  toys,  and  masks, 
and  cloaks  of  baseness  ? 

"  O  my  God,  my  God  !  "  she  moaned,  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Before  her  mind's  eye  everything  seemed 
laid  waste, —  the  pure,  free,  upright,  noble 
nature  of  Eric,  and  her  own  as  well.  She 
could  feel  no  more  joy  in  the  glance,  the 
words,  the  learning,  of  her  son  ;  he  had  used 
them  all  for  falsehood  and  treachery. 

Now  the  tears  fell  from  her  eyes,  as  she 
thought  what  her  husband  would  have  said 
to  this.  How  often  had  he  lamented  that 
every  one  said :  ' '  The  world  is  bad  and 
totally  corrupt ;  why  should  I  alone  separate 
myself  and  deny  myself  its  pleasures  ?  And 
so  every  one  became  an  upholder  of  the  em- 
pire of  sin."  But  how  the  ruin  embraces 
everything  !  This  noble-hearted  Clodwig, 
with  his  unexampled  friendship  —  they  must 
meet  him,  greet  him,  talk  with  him,  and  yet 
wish  him  dead.  Shame  !  And  he  goes  on 
teaching  the  boy,  teaching  him  to  rule  him- 
self, and  to  work  with  noble  aim  for  others, 
while  he  himself  —  oh  horrible  !  And  this 
passionate  woman  who  could  not  endure 
to  devote  herself  to  the  best  of  men,  what 
was  to  become  of  her  ?  And  this  Sonnen- 
kamp, and  his  wife,  and  Fräulein  Perini,  and 
the  Priest?  "  Look,"  they  would  all  cry, 
"  Look  !  these  are  the  liberal  souls  !  These 
are  the  people  who  are  always  talking  about 
humanity,  and  beneficently  work  for  it ;  and 
meanwhile  they  cherish  the  lowest  passions  : 
they  shrink  from  no  treachery,  no  lies,  no 
hypocrisy  !  " 

Oh,  these  unhappy  wives,  these  wives 
who  call  themselves  unhappy  !  There  runs 
through  our  time  a  great  lie  concerning  the 
unhappy  wife.  The  fact  is  this  :  girls  want 
a  husband  of  wealth  and  standing,  and  a 
young  and  brilliant  lover  besides.  Why 
will  they  not  marry  poor  men  ?  Because 
they  can  give  them  no  fine  establishment. 
And  these  men,  who  offer  themselves  as  lov- 
ers,— 

"Lovers!11  she  exclaimed  aloud.  Frau 
Dournay  sprang  quickly  up  and  rang  the 
bell  violently,  for  she  heard  the  carnage 
drive  into  the  court.  She  told  the  servant 
to  ask  her  son  to  come  to  her  directly. 


Eric  came,  looking  '  much  excited  ;  he 
gazed  in  astonishment  at  his  mother,  whom 
he  had  never  seen  looking  as  she  did  now, 
with  her  long  hair  hanging  loose,  and  her 
face  looking  gray  like  her  hair. 

"  Sit  down,'1  she  said. 

Eric  seated  himself.  His  mother  pressed 
her  hand  to  her  brow.  Could  she  warn  her 
son  plainly  ?  What  can  a  mother,  what  can 
parents  do,  if  a  child,  grown  up  and  free 
from  control,  wanders  from  the  right  path? 
And  if  he  has  already  wandered,  can  he  still 
be  honest  ?  He  mustlie  ;  it  would  be  double 
baseness  if  he  did  not  shield  himself  with 
lies, —  himself  and  her  ! 

"  My  dear  son,"  she  began,  in  a  con- 
strained tone,  "  bear  with  me  if  I  feel  lost 
in  this  restless  life,  which  has  broken  in 
upon  my  loneliness  and  quiet.  I  wonder  at 
your  calm  strength  —  But  no,  I  won't  speak 
of  that  now.  What  was  I  going  to  say  to 
you?  Ah,  yes,  the  Countess  Wolfsgar- 
ten,  the  wife  of  our  friend," —  she  laid  a 
quiet  but  marked  emphasis  on  this  word, 
and  paused  a  moment,  then  continued, 
"  wishes  to  have  Aunt  Claudine  go  and  re- 
main with  her." 

"  That  is  good  !  that's  excellent !" 

"  Indeed  !  and  why  ?  Do  you  forget  that 
it  'will  leave  me  quite  alone  in  a  strange 
house  ?" 

"  But  you  are  never  alone,  dear  mother. 
And  Aunt  Claudine  can  find  a  noble  vocation 
at  Wolfsgarten ;  Countess  Bella  is  full  of 
unrest,  in  spite  of  all  the  beauty  which  en- 
compasses her  life ;  a  strong,  'true  nature 
like  Aunt  Claudine's,  steadfast,  and  bring- 
ing peace  to  others,  will  soften  and  compose 
her  as  nothing  else  in  the  world  could  do. 
I  acknowledge  the  sacrifice  that  you  must 
make,  but  a  good  work  will  be  accomplished 
by  it." 

His  mother's  eyes  grew  less  troubled  ; 
her  face  quivered  as  from  an  electric  shock, 
as  she  said  smiling  : — 

"  At  last  we  have  all  found  our  mission, 
we  are  all  to  be  teachers.  Let  me  ask  you 
how  Countess  Bella,  our  friend's  wife,  ap- 
pears to  you." 

A  two-edged  sword  went  through  Eric's 
heart ;  he  saw  how  he  was  bringing  a  weight 
upon  his  mother's  spirit.  And  perhaps 
Bella  had  betrayed  by  some  passionate 
word  a  feeling  which  must  not  exist,  and  he 
appeared  as  a  sinner  and  a  traitor  !  There 
was  a  short  pause  ;  then  his  mother  asked, 
with  a  sudden  change  of  expression,  — 

"  Why  do  you  not  answer  me  ?  " 

"  Ah,  mother,  I  am  still  much  more  inex- 
perienced than  I  thought  myself ;  I  cannot 
put  absolute  trust  in  my  judgment  of  people. 
I  have  no  knowledge   of  human  nature, 


250 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


though  my  father  used  to  say  that  psych- 
ology was  my  forte.  It  may  be  so.  I  can 
follow  a  given  trait  of  charactor  back  to  its 
remote  causes,  and  forward  to  its  conse- 
quences, but  I  have  no  true  knowledge  of 
human  nature." 

The  Mother  listened  quietly,  with  down- 
cast eyes,  to  this  long  preamble,  in  which 
Eric  was  trying  to  gain  mastery  of  himself, 
but  when  he  stopped,  she  said  : — 

"  You  can  at  least  say  something,  even 
if  it  is  not  very  clear-sighted." 

"Well,  then,  I  think  that  in  this  highly- 
gifted  woman  a  struggle  is  going  on  be- 
tween worldliness'  and  renunciation  of  the 
world ;  between  the  desire  to  appear  and 
the  longing  really  to  be.  It  seems  to  me  as 
if  something  had  been  repressed,  checked, 
in  the  development  of  her  life,  and  as  if  she 
were  not  yet  quite  ripe  for  the  beautiful 
work  of  making  life's  evening  full  and  per- 
fect to  so  noble  a  man  as  Clodwig." 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  noble  man,  and  to  wrong 
him  would  be  like  the  desecration  of  a  tem- 
ple,'1 said  his  mother  significantly. 

The  words  came  out  sharply,  and  she  went 
on  :  "  You  have  judged  rightly,  the  Prank- 
ens  are  a  presumptuous  and  daring  race. 
It  was  believed  that  Bella  would  marry  her 
music-master,  with  whom  she  played  a  great 
deal ;  indeed  she  played  with  him  in  a  double 
sense.  But  that's  not  to  the  purpose.  An- 
apparently  insignificant  event  brought  about 
in  Bella  a  derangement  —  I  don't  know 
what  to  call  it  —  a  sort  of  overturn  in  her 
character.  In  her  youth,  while  she  might 
still  be  considered  young, —  she  was  twenty- 
two  or  twenty-three  —  she  had  to  see  her 
younger  sister  married  before  her ;  she  bore 
it  with  the  greatest  composure,  but  I  think 
that,  from  that  time,  a  change  came  over 
her  difficult  to  be  described ;  she  had  sud- 
denly grown  old,  older  than  she  would  con- 
fess to  herself ;.  there  was  something  of  the 
matron  about  her.  This  was  affected,  but  a 
bitter  tone  was  real.  Her  sister  died  after 
a  few  years,  leaving  no  children.  All  these 
circumstances  brought  out  something  dis- 
cordant in  Bella  ;  she  really  hated  her  sister, 
and  yet  behaved  as  if  she  were  pining  for 
her.  She  had  no  mother,  or  rather,  she  had 
one  whose  highest  triumph  was  to  hear 
people  say,  4  Your  daughter  is  handsome, 
but  not  nearly  so  handsome  as  you  were 
when  you  were  a  girl.'  To  be  handsome 
is  the  chief  pride  of  the  Prankens.  Bella  is 
unfortunately  a  development  of  that  un- 
happy class  of  society,  in  which  people  go 
to  the  theatre  only  to  satirize  and  ridicule 
the  performance,  to  church  only  to  make  a 
formal  reverence  to  the  mercy  of  God ;  in 
which  women  are  held  in  low  esteem  unless 


they  are  handsome,  and  know  how,  as  age 
comes  on,  to  intrigue,  and  to  affect  piety. 
Such  a  being  can  say  to  herself :  I  have  in 
the  course  of  my  life  adorned  with  flowers 
eight  or  ten  hundred  yards  of  canvas,  for 
perfectly  useless  sofa-cushions.  Is  that  a 
life  worth  living  ?  Now  she  has  no  chil- 
dren, no  natural  fixed  duties  —  " 

"  And  just  for  these  reasons,"  interrupted 
Eric,  "  Aunt  Claudine,  without  knowing  it, 
will  have  a  softening  and  tranquillizing  in- 
fluence ;  her  calm  nature,  which  never  has 
to  renounce,  because  it  never  longs  for  any 
change,  seems  just  chosen  for  the  work. 
However  highly  I  value  Frau  Bella,  our 
friend's  wife,  for  herself,  we  must  think 
first  of  all  that  we  are  fulfilling  a  duty  to 
the  noble  Clodwig ;  it  will  establish  anew 
and  increase  the  purity  and  beauty  of  his 
life." 

"  Well,  Aunt  Claudine  is  going  to  Wolfs- 
garten  ;  and  now  leave  me,  my  dear  son,  — 
but  no,  I  must  tell  you  something,  though 
it  may  seem  childish.  When  I  saw  you 
running  so  fast  through  the  garden  to-day, 
I  thought  of  your  father's  pleasure  when  he 
had  been  on  a  mountain  excursion  with 
you ;  and  once,  when  you  were  just  eleven, 
when  you  had  been  in  Switzerland  with 
him,  he  said  on  coming  home,  that  his  chief 
delight  had  been  in  seeing  you  run  up  and 
down  the  mountains  without  once  slipping ; 
and  you  never  did  get  a  fall,  though  your 
younger  brother  was  never  without  some 
bump  or  bruise." 

It  was  with  a  glance  of  double  meaning 
that  she  looked  at  Eric,  as  she  passed  her 
hand  over  his  face. 

"  But  we  have  talked  enough;  now  go. 
I  must  dress  for  dinner." 

She  kissed  his  forehead,  and  he  left  her ; 
but  outside  the  door,  he  stopped  and  said, 
with  folded  hands  :  — 

"  I  thank  you,  Eternal  Powers,  that  you 
have  left  me  my  mother :  she  will  save  us> 
all." 


CHAPTER  VII. 
STATISTICS  OF  LOVE. 

When  they  assembled  again  at  the  villa, 
the  Doctor  chanced  to  be  there.  Or  was 
it  not  mere  chance  ?  Did  he  desire  to  note 
accurately,  once  for  all,  the  relation  between 
Eric  and  Bella  ? 

He  saluted  the  Professorin  with  great 
respect ;  she  said  she  must  confess  that 
her  husband,  who  made  a  point  of  mention- 
ing frequently  his  distant  friends,  had 
never  uttered,  to  the  best  of  her  recollec- 
tion, the  name  of  Doctor  Richard. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


251 


**  And  yet  I  was  a  friend  of  his,"  cried 
the  Doctor  in  a  loud  tone. 

After  a  while,  he  said  in  a  low  voice: 
"I  must  be  honest  with  you,  and  tell  you 
that  I  was  only  a  little  acquainted  with 
your  husband ;  but  your  father-in-law  was 
my  teacher.  I  introduced  myself,  how- 
ever, to  your  son  as  the  friend  of  your  hus- 
band, because  this  seemed  to  me  the  readi- 
est way  to  be  of  service  to  him,  exposed  as 
he  is  here,  in  the  house  and  in  its  connec- 
tions, to  a  variety  of  perils.11 

The  Professorin  warmly  expressed  her 
obligation  to  him,  but  her  heart  contracted 
again.  This  man  had  evidently  alluded  to 
Bella. 

The  "Artist  who  had  painted  the  portrait 
of  the  Wine-count's  daughter  was  there ; 
and  soon  the  Priest  came  too,  and  regret 
was  expressed  that  the  Major  could  not 
be  present,  having  gone  to  celebrate  St. 
John's  day  in  the  neighborhood ;  he  con- 
sidered everything  appertaining  to  the 
Masonic  order  in  the  nature  of  a  military 
duty. 

The  company  in  general  were  in  a  genial 
mood.  The  Doctor  asked  the  painter  how 
he  got  along  with  his  picture  of  Potiphar's 
wife. 

The  Artist  invited  the  company  to  visit 
shortly  the  studio,  which  Herr  von  Endlich 
had  fitted  up  for  him  for  the  summer' 
months. 

"  Strange  !  "  cried  the  Doctor.  "  We  al- 
ways speak  of  Potiphar's  wife,  and  we 
don't  know  what  her  own  name  was ;  she 
takes  the  name  of  her  husband,  and  you 
artists  don't  refrain  from  painting  nude 
beauties  with  more  or  less  fidelity.  The 
chaste  Joseph  presents  always  an  extremely 
contemptible  figure,  and  perhaps  because 
the  world  thinks  that  the  chaste  Joseph  is 
always  a  more  or  less  contemptible  figure. 
..Eneas  and  Dido  are  just  such  another  con- 
stellation, but  iEneas  is  not  looked  upon 
in  so  contemptuous  a  way  as  the  Egyptian 
Joseph." 

It  was  painful  to  hear  the  Doctor  talk  in 
this  style. 

The  Priest  said  :  — 

"This  narrative  in  the  Old  Testament  is 
the  correlative  to  that  of  the  adulteress  in 
the  New ;  and  after  a  thousand  years,  the 
harmony  is  rendered  complete.  The  Old 
Testament  strikes  the  discordant  note ;  the 
New  Testament  brings  it  to  the  accordant 
pitch." 

Clodwig  was  exceedingly  delighted  with 
this  exposition ;  there  was  something  of  the 
student-nature  in  him,  and  he  was  always 
enlivened  and  made  happy  by  any  new 


view,  and  any  enlargement  of  his  knowl- 
edge. 

"  Herr  Priest,  and  you  also,  Frau  Pro- 
fessorin," cried  the  Doctor,  who  was  to-day 
more  talkative  than  ever,  "  with  your  great 
experience  of  life,  you  two  could  render  a 
great  service  to  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  I  ? 11  the  priest  asked. 

"  And  I?  "  asked  the  Professorin. 

"  Yes,  you.  Our  century  has  entered 
upon  a  wholly  new  investigation  of  the  laws 
of  the  world;  and  things,  circumstances, 
sentiments,  which  one  would  not  believe 
could  ever  be  caught,  are  now  bagged  in 
the  statistical  net,  and  must  be  shown  to  be 
conformable  to  laws.  Nothing  has  been 
esteemed  freer  and  more  incalculable,  even 
incomprehensible,  than  love  and  matri- 
mony, and  yet  there  are  now  exact  statis- 
tical tables  of  these ;  there  is  an  iron  law, 
by  which  the  number  of  divorces  in  a  year 
is  determined.  My  friend  now  goes  a  step 
farther,  and  from*  facts  of  his  own  ob- 
servation has  deduced  the  conclusion,  that 
marriages  in  which  the  man  is  considerably 
older  than  the  wife,  present  a  greater  aver- 
age of  happy  unions  than  so-called  love- 
matches  ;  now,  Herr  Priest,  and  you  also, 
Frau  Professorin,  think  over  the  list  of 
persons  you  are  acquainted  with,  and  ask 
yourselves  whether  you  find  any  confirma- 
tion of  this  law." 

The  Professorin  was  silent,  but  the 
Priest  said  that  religion  alone  consecrated 
marriage ;  religion  alone  gave  humility, 
which  was  the  only  sure  basis  of  all  beauti- 
ful intercourse  between  men  themselves,  and 
also  between  man  and  God. 

The  Priest  succeeded,  continuing  the 
conversation,  in  diverting  it  entirely  from 
the  subject  so  flippantly  introduced. 

Sonnenkamp  stated  that  the  Major  wished 
to  have  a  grand  masonic  celebration  in  the 
spacious  knight's  hall  of  the  castle,  when  it 
was  completed ;  he  asked  in  what  relation 
the  reigning  Prince  stood  towards  Masonry. 

Clodwig  replied  that  he  himself  had  for- 
merly belonged  to  the  order,  and  that  the 
Prince  was  at  present  a  protector  of  the 
brotherhood,  without  being  a  member. 

The  conversation  was  carried  on  in 
groups,  and  they  left  the  table  in  a  cheerful 
mood.    The  Doctor  took  leave. 

It  was  now  settled  that  the  Aunt  should 
go  to  Wolfsgarten ;  and,  in  order  to  give 
her  time  to  make  preparation  for  leaving, 
Clodwig  and  Bella  were  to  remain  over 
night  and  take  her  in  the  carriage  with 
them  on  the  morrow. 

Bella  was  in  very  good  spirits,  and,  on 
Sonnenkamp' s  offering  to  present  her  with  a 


252 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


parrot,  requested  that  it  might  be  the  wild- 
est one,  which  she  promised  to  tame. 

In  the  evening  Roland  urged  them  Re- 
take a  sail  with  him  on  the  Rhine.  The 
Aunt  and  Bella  went  together;  Fräulein 
Perini  withdrew  with  Frau  Ceres  ;  the  Pro- 
fessorin remained  with  Clodwig,  and  Son- 
nenkump  excused  himself  to  forward  some 
unfinished  letters. 

On  the  boat  there  were  laughter  and  mer- 
riment, in  which  Bella  joined,  dipping  her 
hand  into  the  water  and  playing  with  her 
wedding-ring,  which  she  moved  up  and  down 
on  the  finger,  repeatedly  immersing  her 
hand  in  the  Rhine. 

"  Do  you  understand  what  the  Doctor 
was  aiming  at  ?  "  she  asked  Eric. 

"  If  I  had  been  willing  to  understand, 
I  should  have  been  obliged  to  feel  offended," 
he  replied. 

"  Now  we  are  speaking  of  the  Doctor,'1 
resumed  Bella,  "there  is  one  thing  I  must 
tell  you  that  I  have  forgotten  to  mention 
before.  The  Doctor  is  doughty,  unadulter- 
ated virtue ;  but  this  rough  virtue  once 
wanted  to  pay  court  to  me,  and  I  showed 
him  how  ridiculous  he  made  himself.  It 
may  very  well  be,  that  the  man  doesn't 
speak  well  of  me.  You  ought  to  know  the 
reason." 

Eric  was  moved  in  his  inmost  soul. 
What  does  this  mean  ?  May  this  be  a 
wily  move  to  neutralize  the  physician's 
opinion  ?    He  could  not  determine. 

After  a  while,  Bella  asked,  — 

"  Can  you  tell  me  why  I  am  now  so  often 
low-spirited  ?  " 

"  The  more  highly-endowed  natures, 
Aristotle  says,  are  always  melancholy," 
replied  Eric. 

Bella  caught  her  breath ;  that  was  alto- 
gether too  pedantic  an  answer  to  suit  her. 

They  did  not  succeed  in  keeping  up  any 
continued  conversation,  but  Bella  said  at 
one  time  abruptly  to  Eric,  — 

"The  visit  here  of  your  mother  vexes 
me." 

"What!  vexes  you?" 

"Yes,  it  wounds  me  that  this  man  with 
his  gold  should  be  able  to  change  the 
position  of  people,  as  he  does." 

Eric  had  abundant  matter  of  thought  in 
this  casual  remark. 

"  You  have  the  happiness  to  be  greatly 
beloved,"  said  Bella  suddenly.  Eric  looked 
up  alarmed,  glancing  towards  Roland,  and 
Bella  continued  aloud,  — 

"  Your  mother  loves  you  deeply."  After 
a  time,  she  said  in  a  low  tone  to  herself,  but 
Eric  heard  it,  — 

"  Me  no  one  loves  ;  I  know  why,  — no, 
I  don't  know  why." 


Eric  looked  her  full  in  the  face,  then 
seized  an  oar  and  made  the  water  fly  with 
his  rowing. 

Meanwhile,  the  mother  and  Clodwig  sat 
together,  and  the  former  expressed  her  joy 
that  Eric  had  been  thrown  into  the  society 
of  men  of  such  well-tried  experience  ;  in 
former  times,  a  man  could  have  completed 
his  culture  by  intercourse  with  women ; 
but  now,  that  end  could  be  attained  only  by 
intercourse  with  noble  men. 

They  soon  passed  into  those  mutual  un- 
foldings  of  views  which  are  like  a  perpetual 
greeting,  when  two  persons  have  pursued 
the  same  spiritual  ends  apart  from  each 
other,  in  wholy  different  .relations  of  life, 
and  vet  with  the  same  essential  tendencies. 

The  Professorin  had  known  Clodwig's 
first  wife,  and  recalled  her  to  remembrance 
in  affectionate  words.  Clodwig  looked 
round  to  see  if  Bella  was  near,  for  he  had 
never  spoken  before  her  of  his  former  wife. 
It  was  pure  calumny,  when  it  was  said  that 
he  had  promised  Bella  never  to  speak  of 
the  deceased,  for  Clodwig  was  not  so  weak, 
nor  Bella  so  hard,  as  this  ;  it  was  only  out 
of  consideration  for  her,  that  he  never  did 
it. 

In  low,  half-whispered  tones,  the  conver- 
sation flowed  on ;  and  finding  in  each  other 
the  same  fundamental  trait,  they,  agreed 
that  it  was  happy  for  human  beings  here 
below  to  pass  lightly  over  what  was  un- 
toward in  their  lot,  and  retain  in  lively 
remembrance  only  what  was  felicitous. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Professorin  in  confirma- 
tion, "  my  husband  used  often  to  say,  that  a 
Lethe  stream  flows  through  the  soul  buoy- 
ant with  life,  so  that  the  past  is  forgotten." 

It  was  a  season  of  purest  interchange  of 
thought,  and  of  true  spiritual  communion, 
for  Clodwig  and  the  mother.  They  were 
like  two  beings  in  the  spirit-world,  survey- 
ing calmly  and  clearly  what  had  passed  in 
this  state  of  existence.  There  was  nothing 
painful  in  the  mutual  awakening  of  their 
recollections,  but  rather  an  internal  percep- 
tion of  the  inexhaustible  fulness  of  life:  on 
this  elevated  height  the  sound  of  desire  and 
plaint  was  no  longer  heard,  and  the  individ- 
ual life  with  all  its  personal  relations  was 
dissolved  into  the  one  element  of  universal 
being. 

But  now  there  was  a  diversion,  and  Clod- 
wig expressed  regret  at  having  lived  so 
much  a  mere  spectator,  and  that  he  had, 
without  throwing  himself  into  the  great  cur- 
rent of  influence,  waited  passively  in  the 
confident  expectation  that  the  idea  which 
was  stirring  in  the  world  would  accomplish, 
of  itself,  -its  own  grand  fulfilment.  He 
expressed  his  satisfaction  that  the  young 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


253 


men  of  to-day  were  of  a  different  stamp, 
and  that  Eric  was  to  him  an  inspiring  rep- 
resentative of  youth  as  thoughtful  as  it  was 
bold,  as  moderate  as  it  was  active. 

Bella  entered  just  as  they  happened  to 
refer  again  to  the  statistics  of  love.  She 
was  pale,  but  Clodwig  did  not  perceive  it ; 
sitting  down  near  them  in  silence,  she  re- 
quested them  to  continue  their  conversa- 
tion ;  but  neither  the  Professorin  nor  Clod- 
wig  resumed  the  interrupted  theme. 

Clodwig  spoke  of  Aunt  Claudine,  asked 
after  her  favorite  pursuits,  and  was  glad  to 
own  a  fine  telescope,  which  she  could  use  at 
Wolfsgarten. 

After  a  brief  rest,  Bella  left  them  and 
went  into  the  park. 

\ 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  DUTY  AND  PASSION. 

"I  must  speak  with  you  this  evening  in 
the  park,  under  the  weeping  ash,"  Eric  had 
said  to  Bella  as  they  were  getting  out  of  the 
boat. 

"  This  evening?"  she  asked. 
"  Yes." 

"  And  in  the  park,  under  the  weeping 
ash  ? " 
'  'Yes." 

She  had  of  her  own  accord  placed  her 
arm  in  his,  and  they  walked  together  in 
silence  to  the  villa ;  then  she  relinquished 
his  arm,  and  went  straight  to  Clodwig  and 
the  Mother. 

She  knew  not  what  she  desired  here,  but 
she  was  happy,  or  rather  soothed,  when  she 
saw  them  sitting  so  confidentially  together. 
Yes,  she  thought,  every  one  who  gives  an 
ear  to  him,  and  returns  a  stimulating  reply 
occasionally,  is  as  much  to  him  as  I. 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  park;  she 
walked  about  restlessly,,  knowing  that  Eric 
must  get  released  from  Roland,  in  order  to 
keep  the  appointment  with  her.  But  she 
had  no  idea  how  hard  it  was  for  him  to 
effect  this  ;  not  so  much  because  Roland 
was  not  obedient,  and  mindful  every  hour 
of  the  task  set  him,  but  because  Eric  was 
inwardly  disturbed  that  he  was  obliged  to 
assign  to  his  pupil  as  a  duty  and  a  theme 
some  noble  thought,  some  lesson,  some  sub- 
ject of  study,  merely  to  become  temporarily 
freed  from  his  presence.  The  book  he  gave 
him,  the  place  he  selected  for  him  to  read 
until  his  return,  appeared  to  him  perverted 
to  a  wrong  use,  dishonored  and  profaned ; 
yet  nothing  else  could  be  doae.  It  was  a 
bitter  experience,  but  it  was  the  last  time  ; 
he  would  come  out  from  this  final  interview 
pure  and  strong,  and  have  a  plain  and 
straight  path  before  him. 


He  became  -composed  with  this  thought, 
and  entered  the  park.  He  found  Bella  on 
the  seat  upon  the  height ;  she  had  evidently 
been  weeping  freely. 

Hearing  his  step,  she  removed  the  hand- 
kerchief from  her  eyes.  "You  have  been 
weeping?  " 

"Yes,  for  your  mother,  for  myself,  for 
us  all !  O,  how  often  have  I  heard  your 
mother  ridiculed,  blamed,  pitied,  and  de- 
spised, for  following  the  impulse  of  her 
heart  and  the  man  of  her  choice.  For 
some  time  the  saying  was,  To  live  on  love 
and  eight  hundred  thalers.  She  is  now 
more  highly  favored  than  any  of  us.  With 
blessed  satisfaction  she  surveys  now  the 
past,  and  looks  forward  to  the  future  in  her 
son,  and  what  are  her  deriders  ?  Puppets, 
dolls, —  gossipping,  music-making,  dancing, 
chattering,  scandal-making  dolls  !  They 
turn  up  their  noses  at  the  man  who  has  be- 
come so  rich  on  the  labor  of  slaves,  and  our 
aristocratic  fathers  sell  their  children,  and 
the  children  sell  themselves,  for  a  high  rank 
in  society,  for  horses  and  carriages,  for  finery 
and  villas.  The  nobility,  the  poor  nobility, 
is  the  inherited  curse  from  ancestral  pride, 
from  slavery  to  the  ancestral  idea  !  A  peas- 
ant Woman,  who  gleans  barefooted  in  the 
stubble-field,  is  happier  and  freer  than  the 
lady  who  is  driven  through  the  streets  in  her 
carriage,  leaning  back  and  cooling  herself 
with  her  fan." 

"  I  have  one  request,"  began  Eric  in  a 
constrained  voice ;  "will  you  bestow  upon 
me  one  hour  of  your  life  ?  " 

"  One  hour  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Will  you  listen  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  attentive."  As  she  gazed  at  him, 
her  eye-brows  seemed  to  grow  larger  and 
larger,  the  corners  of  her  mouth  to  be  drawn 
slowly  down,  and  her  lips  to  open  as  if 
parched  with  a  feverish  heat ;  nothing  was 
wanting  but  the  wings  upon  her  head,  and 
the  snaky  heads  knotted  under  her  chin,  to 
give  the  perfect  Medusa-look. 

Eric  was  for  an  instant  petrified ;  then 
collecting  himself,  he  continued  :  — 

"Two  questions  now  rend  my  heart; 
one  is,  Has  the  violence  of  love  taken  from 
me  life,  study,  and  the  power  of  abstract 
thought  ?  The  other  is,  Must  a  child  of  hu- 
manity, because  destiny  has  once  decided 
for  him,  become  a  lifelong  victim  to  this 
determination  ?  And  these  two  questions 
resolve  themselves  into  one,  just  as  those 
snaky  heads  form  one  knot  under  the  chin 
of  the  Medusa." 

"Go  on!"  urged  Bella. 

"  Well,  then,  there  was  one  hour  when  I 
would  like  to  have  said  to  the  beautiful  wife 
sitting  before  me, ( I  love  thee  ! '  and  I  would 


254 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


have  embraced  and  kissed  her,  but  then,"  — 
Eric  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and 
gnashed  his  teeth,  —  "  but  that  hour  over, 
I  should  have  put  a  bullet  through  my 
brain ! " 

Bella  let  her  eyes  fall,  and  Eric  went  on : 
"One  hour,  and  then  my  peace  was  gone; 
I  had  nothing  left.  I  could  not  sleep.  I 
could  not  think.  This  could  not  last.  I 
lost  myself,  and  what  did  I'  gain  ?  I  saw 
all  that  this  love  devastated,  and  could  it 
be  love?  No.  Could  I  take  it  lightly  like 
others,  it  would  be  light.  But  why  is  this 
the  only  thing  to  be  made  light  of?  Why 
is  not  the  ideal  of  life  also  to  be  made  light 
of,  and  why  is  not  all  feeling  only  a  plausi- 
ble lie  ?  » 

In  a  hoarse  voice  lie  added  :  — 

"  But  I  do  not  believe  that  love  has  the 
right  to  lay  everything  in  ruins  ;  but  then 
perhaps  it  may  be  said,  it  is  not  real  love. 
Pluck  up  heart,  look  at  the  world  for  your- 
self, see  how  pleasantly,  respectably,  and 
shrewdly  it  lies,  the  women  tricked  out  with 
artificial  beauty,  and  the  men  Avith  superfi- 
cial knowledge.  Do  you  see  the  abyss  on 
whose  brink  I  stood  ?  And  here  I  said  to 
myself,  We  are  placed  in  the  world  in  order 
to  live,  and  knowledge  and  culture  have 
been  given  us  that  we  may  get  from  them 
life  and  not  death.  And  how  could  I  look 
a  noble  man  in  the  face,  how  could  I  look 
up  to  the  sun  in  heaven,  how  was  I  to  edu- 
cate a  human  being,  to  stand  erect  in  the 
world,  to  abhor  crime,  to  discern  the  holy; 
how  was  I  to  take  the  word  mother  upon  my 
lips,  with  the  consciousness  that  I  was  my- 
self the  vilest  of  all,  and  that  there  was  no 
moment  in  which  I,  and  another  also,  must 
not  tremble,  and  be  filled  with  cowardly 
fear  and  despair. w 

Eric  paused  and  placed  his  hand  on  his 
forehead ;  his  voice  choked,  tears  stood  in 
his  eyes. 

"Go  on  !  "  cried  Bella,  "I  am  listen- 
ing." 

"  It  is  well.  This  once  do  I  speak  thus 
to  you,  and  only  this  once.  You  ha\;e 
courage  to  hear  the  truth.  Our-  relation  is 
not  love,  must  not  be  love  ;  for  love  cannot 
thrive  on  murder,  hypocrisy,  and  treachery. 
I  clasp  your  hand  —  no,  I  clasp  it  not,  for 
I  know  i  could  not  let  it  go,  if  I  did.  Here 
1  stand  —  1  speak  to  you,  you  listen  to  me 
—  I  speak  to  you,  as  if  I  were  miles  away, 
as  if  I  were  dead ;  there  must  be  distance, 
there  must  be  death,  before  there  is  any 
life." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  interposed  Bella. 
She  looked  at  Eric's  hand  as  if  he  were 
aboKt  to  draw  a  weapon  from  his  bosom. 
Breathing  deep,  he  went  on:  "It  must 


be  possible  for  human  beings  who  have  been 
made  conscious  of  where  they  are,  to  find 
again  the  right  path  from  which  they  have 
wandered.  My  friend !  you  are  happy  if 
you  understand  the  happiness,  and  you  can 
and  must  learn  to  appreciate  it ;  and  I  am 
happy.  Howsoever  my  heart  may  be  shat- 
tered, I  know  I  shall  come  to  understand 
my  duty  and  my  happiness.  I  have  been, 
heretofore,  so  proud,  I  thought  I  had  mas- 
tered the  world  and  brought  it  under  my 
feet,  and  so  did  you  ;  and  that  we  have  met, 
is  to  be  not  for  our  destruction,  but  rather 
for  our  awakening  into  a  new  life. 

"  I  foresee  that  the  days  will  come  when 
we  shall  coldly  extend  to  each  other  our 
hands,  and  say,  or  even  not  say,  though  we 
feel  and  know  it,  that  there  was  one  pure 
hour,  an  hour  won  by  a  severe  struggle, 
when  we  were  exalted  in  our  own  souls, 
and  because  we  held  each  other  so  highly, 
we  did  not  debase  nor  degrade  ourselves. 
This  hour  is  hard,  is  overwhelming ;  but 
what  is  hard  and  overwhelming  now,  will 
be,  in  the  future,  tender  and  full  of  restoring 
strength. 

"  We  would  hold  each  other  high,  that  we 
may  not  destroy  the  laws  of  righteous  liv- 
ing. And  here  is  life's  duty.  My  friend,  it 
was  a  saying  of  my  father,  The  man  of  under- 
standing must  be  able  to  obey  the  command 
of  duty,  with  the  same  glow  of  zeal  that 
others  obey  the  command  of  passion.  So 
must  it  be.  The  stars  shine  over  our 
heads,  I  look  upon  you  as  upon  a  star  that 
shines  in  its  purity  and  in  its  ordained 
orbit.  Ah  !  I  do  not  know  what  I  am  say- 
ing. Enough  !  Let  me  now  bid  you  fare- 
well ;  when  we  meet  again  —  " 

"  No,  stay  here  !  "  Bella  cried,  grasping 
his  arm,  which  she  let  go  immediately,  as  if 
she  had  touched  a  snake. 

She  withdrew  two  steps,  and  threw  back 
her  head,  saying  :  — ■ 

"  I  thank  you."1 

Eric  wanted  to  reply,  but  it  was  better 
that  he  should  say  .nothing;  he  was  about 
to  go  away  in  silence,  when  Bella  cried  :  — 

"  One  question  !  Is  it  true  that  you  saw 
Manna  Sonnenkamp,  before  you  came 
here  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  you  love  her,  and  are  here  on  her 

account  ?  ' 
"  No.11 

"  I  believe  you,  and  I  thank  you.1' 
There  seemed  to  be  in  this  utterance 
something  consolatory  to  her,  that  she  had 
not  been  sacrificed  to  love  for  another. 
She  looked  wildly  around,  moved  her  head 
right  and  left,  and  when  she  had  become 
calm  again,  she  said : 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


255 


"  You  are  right.    It  is  well." 

She  seemed  to  be  looking  for  something 
to  give  to  Eric,  without  being  able  to  find 
it ;  and  now,  as  if  she  were  giving  utterance 
to  a  thought  that  had  long  lain  upon  her 
mind,  and  which  anxiety  for  his  welfare 
forced  from  her,  she  criad,  — 

"  Be  warned  !  Be  oh  your  guard  against 
my  brother  ;  he  can  be  terrible." 

Eric  went  away  ;  it  was  a  hard  matter  to 
return  to  Roland,  but  he  must. 

He  sat  still  by  Roland's  side  for  a  short 
time,  with  his  hands  over  his  eyes;  the 
light  pained  them,  and  he  did  not  venture 
to  look  at  Roland. 

Then  a  servant,  came  with  the  message 
that  the  Count  and  the  Countess  were  going 
to  take  their  departure  at  once ;  Eric  and 
Roland  could  bid  them  good-bye  in  the 
court-yard. 

They  went  down,  and  heard  that,  con- 
trary to  the  original  plan,  they  were  to  set 
out  immediately,  and  send  the  next  day  a 
carriage  for  Aunt  Claudine. 

Bella  extended  her  gloved  right  hand  to 
Eric,  saying  in  a  low  tone  :  — 

"  Good-night,  Herr  Captain." 

The  carriage  drove  off. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THOUGHTS  OF  THE  RELEASED. 

Bella  sat  quietly  as  she  rode  homewards 
with  her  husband.  After  a  long  silence, 
Count  Clodwig  said,  — 

"  My  heart  is  full  of  happiness  and  joy  ; 
it  is  a  real  blessedness  to  see  a  woman  who 
is  sixty  years  old,  and  who  has  never  had  a 
thought  that  she  needed  to  repent  of." 

Bella  looked  up  quickly.  "  What  does 
this  mean  ?  Has  he  any  idea  of  what  has 
transpired  ? 

"That  cannot  be;  he  would  not,  in  that 
case,  have  referred  to  it.  But  perhaps  it  is 
his  lofty  manner  of  giving  a  hint  towards  a 
life  of  purity." 

She  was  fearful  of  betraying  herself  if 
she  made  no  answer,  and  yet  she  was  at  a 
loss  what  to  say.  Making  a  violent  effort 
of  self-restraint^  she  said  at  last,  — 

"  This  lady  is  very  happy  in  her  poverty  ; 
she  has  a  noble,  highly-cultivated  son." 

Clodwig  now  looked  round  as  if  some 
one  had  pulled  upon  him.  Could  Bella 
have  had  any  notion  that  the  thought  had 
crossed  his  mind,  — What  if  this  wife  —  and 
then  Eric  be  thy  son  ? 

He  was  better  off  than  Bella,  for  there 
was  no  necessity  of  his  making  any  reply ; 
but  he  inwardly  reproached  himself  for  hav- 
ing had  the  faintest  impression  of  such  a 
thought. 


They  drove  along  in  silence ;  there  was 
oneness  of  feeling,  and  yet  each  had  sad- 
dening thoughts ;  for  the  rest  of  the  way 
not  a  word  was  spoken.  It  seemed  to 
Bella  as  if  some  mighty  force  must  come 
and  bear  her  away  into  chaos,  into  anni- 
hilation. The  carriage  rattled  so  strangely, 
the  wheels  grated,  and  the  maid  and  the 
coachman  looked  to  her  like  goblins,  and 
the  flitting  shadows  of  the  moon  like  pic- 
tures in  a  dream,  and  the  carriage  with  its 
inmates  like  a  monster;  anger,  shame, 
pride,  humiliation,  were  stormily  coursing 
through  her  heart,  that  had  not  yet  been 
calmed. 

She  was  enraged  with  herself  that  she, 
who  was  mature  in  worldly  experience,  had 
allowed  herself  to  be  carried  away  by  such 
a  girlish  infatuation,  for  that  was  the  name 
she  still  gave  it.  And  had  not  her  self- 
love  been  wounded  ?  Was  not  this  the  first 
time  that  she  had  ever  stretched  out  her 
hand  without  its  being  grasped  ? 

It  came  across  her  that  Eric  might  have 
overstated  his  love  to  her,  in  order  to  lessen 
the  feeling  of  shame  on  her  part.  As  she 
thought  it  over,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
detected  something  unnatural  in  his  tone, 
something  forced  and  constrained. 

She  thought  again  of  Eric.  Where  is  he 
now  ?  Is  he  talking  with  any  one  ?  He  cer- 
tainly suffers  deeply ;  he  has  saved  himself 
and  thee.  Her  thoughts  were  like  a  whirl- 
wind. Now  she  scornfully  exulted.  It 
was  only  a  trifling  jest,  an  experiment,  a 
bold  play !  She,  Bella,  rhe  strong,  had 
only  tried  to  bring  a  young  man  to  his  knees 
before  her,  and  she  would  have  thrust  him 
away  with  contempt  if  she  had  succeeded. 
She  can  say  this  —  who  can  contradict  her? 
Her  whole  past  life  was  good  evidence  in 
her  favor,  and  vet  she  felt  ashamed  of  this 
lie. 

But  what  is  now  to  be  done?  she  asked 
again.  She  is  simply  to  be  quiet;  she  will 
meet  the  man  with  indifference ;  her  last 
word  to  him  was  to  warn  him  against  any 
attachment  to  Manna.  There  was  the 
whole !  That  was  the  pivot  on  which 
turned  the  whole  bold  game.  She  prom- 
ised herself  to  root  out  of  her  soul  every 
passionate  feeling,  every  violent  emotion. 
She  was  now  grateful  to  the  destiny  that 
had  aroused  within  her  the  strong  forces  of 
nature  —  her  virtue  had  now  been  tried  in 
the  fire. 

She  took  the  veil  from  her  face,  and 
looked  up  at  the  stars.  They  should  be 
witnesses  that  all  immoderate,  all  childish 
allurements,  that  were  unworthy  of  her, 
should  be  put  far  away.  Now  she  silently 
thought  of  what  Eric  had  said,  "For  this 


256 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


end  are  culture  .and  knowledge  bestowed 
upon  us,  that  we  should  rule  over  our- 
selves." 

As  they  were  going  up  the  hill  on  which 
Wolfsgarten  was  situated,  there  came  over 
her  a  feeling  pf  imprisonment ;  she  thought 
her  hands  were  tied,  and  she  put  them  out- 
side of  her  mantle.  Clodwig  thought  she 
was  seeking  his  hand ;  he  took  hers  and 
held  it  with  a  gentle  pressure. 

They  reached  Wolfsgarten  in  silence, 
and  Clodwig  said,  as  they  stood  in  the 
brightly  lighted  garden-saloon,  — 

"  We  can  be  silent  in  each  others  com- 
pany ;  and  this  is  the  fairest  comradeship, 
when  each,  one  abides  in  himself  and  yet  is 
with  another. " 

Bella  nodded,  looking  at  the  whole  sur- 
roundings with  a  wondering  glance.  What 
is  all  this  ?  To  whom  does  all  this  belong  ? 
What  power  has  brought  her  here  ?  Where 
has  she  been  ?  How  would  it  be  now.  here 
alone  with  her  husband,  if  

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  must  fall  on 
her  knees,  grasp  his  hand,  and  beg  for  for- 
giveness. 

But  it  is  better,  she  thought,  not  for 
herself —  she  believed  that  she  was  ready 
to  humble  herself  to  the  utmost,  — but  bet- 
ter for  him  not  to  know  anything  of  what  had 
transpired,  ft  ought  to  be  concealed  from 
him.  She  bowed  her  head,  and  Clodwig 
kissed  her  brow,  saying  :  — 
■"  Your  brow  is  hot.11 

Each  retired  to  rest. 

Bella  sent  her  maid  away  and  undressed 
without  her  aid  to-night. 

After  Clodwig  and  Bella  had  driven  off, 
the  Mother  went  to  the  vine-embowered 
house  with  Eric.  She  led  him  by  the  hand 
like  a  little  child ;  she  felt  his  hand  tremble, 
but  she  said  nothing ;  when  they  had 
reached  the  steps,  she  said,  — 

"  Eric,  kiss  me  !  11 

Eric  understood  her  meaning ;  she  wanted 
to  see  if  he  could  kiss  her  with  pure  lips. 
He  kissed  her.  Mother  and  son  uttered  no 
word . 

Every  pain  was  removed  from  Ericas 
whirling  brain.  And  truth  requires  it  to 
be  said,  that  the  most  painful  thought  was, 
that  a  feeling  of  regret  had  come  over 
Eric,  a  short  time  previously.  The  temp- 
ter suggested  that  he  had  been  too  scrupu- 
lous, too  conscientious.  He  had  thrust 
from  him  a  beautiful  woman,  who  was 
ready  to  clasp  him  with  loving  arms.  When 
he  surprised  himself  in  these  thoughts,  he 
was  profoundly  wretched.  All  pride,  all 
self-congratulation,  and  all  exalted  feelings 
of  purity,  were  extinguished  ;  he  was  a  sin- 
ner without  the  sin.    He  had  believed  him- 


self raised  upon  a  lofty  eminence ;  he  had 
even  represented  his  love  to  Bella  in 
stronger  colors  than  the  facts  warranted. 
Now  there  was  a  recoil,  and  the  whole 
power  of  the  rejected  and  disdained  love 
avenged  itself  upon  his  doubly  sinful  head. 

For  a  long  tim«  he  wandered  about  in 
the  quiet  night. 

The  soul  has  its  feverish  condition  from 
wounds  as  well  as  the  body,  and  equally 
requires  a  soothing  treatmeat. 

Eric  had  amputated  a  part  of  his  soul 
in  order  to  save  the  rest,  and  he  suffered 
from  the  pain.  But  as  the  dew  fell  upon 
tree  and  grass,  and  upon  the  face  of  Eric, 
so  fell  a  dew  upon  his  spirit. 

The  self-exaltation  of  virtue  was  now 
taken  out  of  him,  washed  away  by  his 
double  repentance,  and  he  was  now  again 
a  child. 

As  he  looked  back  to  the  vine-embow- 
ered house,  he  thought :  I  will,  as  a  man, 
preserve  within  me  the  child ;  and  still  fur- 
ther he  thought :  Thou  hast  withdrawn  thy- 
self from  temptation  through  the  conscious- 
ness of  duty ;  be  tender  towards  the  rich 
and  great,  to  whom  everything  is  offered, 
to  whom  so  much  is  allowed ;  the  conscious- 
ness of  duty  does  not  restrain  them  so  ab- 
solutely as  it  does  him  who  is  in  the  world, 
him  who  must  help  and  be  helped  by 
others,  and  who  has  lost  everything  when 
he  has  lost  himself. 

He  returned  home  late  in  the  evening ; 
and  at  night  he  dreamed  that  he  was  strug- 
gling in  the  midst  of  the  noefds  of  the 
Rhine,  and  he,  the  strong  swimmer,  was 
not  able  to  contend  against  the  waves. 

He  shrieked,  but  a  steam-tug  drowned 
his  cry,  and  the  helmswoman  of  a  boat 
looked  down  upon  him  with  contempt  — 
and  all  at  once  it  was  not  the  helmswo- 
man, but  a  maiden  form*  with  wings  and 
two  brightly-gleaming  eyes. 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  GUARDIAN  AND  HELPER. 

Early  in  the  morning,  a  carriage  from 
Wolfsgarten  came  for  Aunt  Claudine  and 
the  parrot. 

For  the  thirty  years  since  her  marriage 
with  the  Professor,  Frau  Dournay  had  not 
passed  a  day  without  her  sister-in-law  ;  now, 
for  the  first  time,  she  was  letting  her  go 
from  her.  It  seemed  to  both  of  them  hard- 
ly conceivable  that  they  could  live  aparV 
from  each  other,  but  it  had  been  decided 
upon,  and  must  be. 

Sonnenkamp  was  most  politely  attentive  ; 
he  charged  the  Aunt  to  consider  his  house 
her  home,  and  not  to  remairi  more  than  a 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


•  257 


few  days  as  a  guest  at  Wolfsgarten.  He 
gave  a  basket  full  of  carefully-covered 
grapes  and  bananas  into  the  coachman's 
charge ;  the  parrot's  cage  was  on  the  seat 
near  Aunt  Claudine. 

The  parrot  screamed  and  scolded  as  they 
drove  off,  and  kept  it  up  all  the  way,  not 
liking,  apparently,  to  leave  Villa  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  proposed  a  drive  to 
the  Professorin,  to  help  her  forget  the  part- 
ing, but  she  answered,  that  not  by  diversion 
but  by  quiet  reflection,  can  we  compose  and 
reconcile  ourselves  to  the  inevitable.  Ro- 
land looked  at  her  in  surprise ;  these  were 
Eric's  thoughts,  almost  his  very  words. 

Several  days  passed  quietly  at  the  villa, 
which  was  hardly  quitted  even  for  visits  to 
the  vine-covered  cottage.  Bella's  visit  had 
brought  a  disquiet  to  the  house,  which  still 
hung  over  them  all,  and  they  realized  it 
^afresh  as  they  constantly  missed  the  Aunt ; 
Bella  had  taken  something  which  seemed 
an  essential  part  of  their  life.  And  besides, 
the  house  was  again  without  any  sound  of 
music.  / 

Eric  and  Roland  were  more  industrious 
than  ever,  for  the  Mother  had  asked  if  she 
might  not  be  with  them  in  the  study-hours, 
saying  that  she  had  never  heard  any  of  Eric's 
teaching.  Eric  knew  that  she  wished  to 
help  him  to  keep  a  strict  guard  over  himself; 
for  though  not  a  word  had  been  said,  she 
felt  that  something  must  have  passed  be- 
tween him  and  Bella.  And  she  not  only 
wanted  to  watch  over  her  son  at  every  hour, 
but  to  inspire  him  by  her  presence  to  keep 
true  to  his  duty  to  Roland. 

So  she  sat  with  them  from  early  morning 
through  much  of  the  day,  breathing  low, 
and  not  even  allowing  herself  any  needle- 
work ;  and  Eric  and  Roland  felt  a  peculiar 
of  a  calm  mind,  of  deep  insight,  and  wide 
incitement  in  the  presence  of  a  third  person, 
views.  At  first  Roland  often  looked  up  at 
her,  but  she  always  shook  her  head,  to  re- 
mind him  that  he  must  give  his  whole  mind 
to  what  he  was  about,  and  take  no  notice 
of  her.  Eric  was  completely  free  from  the 
first  hour,  when  he  had  caught  himself  giv- 
ing such  a  turn  to  the  lesson  that  his  mother 
might  learn  something  new,  and  had  met  her 
gaze,  which  said, — That's  not  the  thing  to 
be  considered.  He  returned  to  his  simple 
plan,  without  regard  to  his  mother's  pres- 
ence. She  was  pleased  with  the  methodi- 
cal way  in  which  Eric  gave  his  instruction, 
and  knew  how  to  keep  his  pupil's  attention. 
She  listened  with  pleasure,  one  day,  when 
he  said  that  Indolence  liked  to  say: — 
Nothing  depends  on  me,  a  single  individ- 
ual ;  but,  a  nation  and  humanity  consist  of 


individuals  ;-a  scholar  learns  through  single 
hours  and  days  ;  a  fruit  ripens  by  single 
sunbeams ;  everything  is  individual,  but 
the  collected  individuals  make  up  the  great 
whole.  Eric  had  prepared  himself,  and 
read  apposite  passages  from -Cicero,  and 
from  Xenophon's  Memorabilia.  Roland 
must  feel  that  he  had  the  fellowship  of  the 
noblest  spirits.  But,  when  they  were  alone, 
his  mother  said, — "  I  think  that  in  illustrat- 
ing everything  and  trying  to  give  your  pu- 
pil knowledge,  you  weaken  and  loosen  hi< 
firm  hold  on  fundamental  principles." 

Eric  felt  a  shock  of  disappointment ;  he 
had  hoped  that  his  mother  ~ould  express 
entire  pleasure,  and  she  was  finding  fault 
instead  ;  but  he  controlled  himself,  m.d  she 
continued,  smiling : — 

"  I  cannot  help  laughing,  because  my  two 
points  of  criticism  are  really  one  and  the 
same,  looked  at  on  two  sides.  The  one 
view  is  this,  that  it  seems  to  me  dangerous 
to  give  your  pupil,  as  you  do,  just  what  he 
desires ;  you  follow  the  devious  path  of  a 
young  discursive  mind,  and  just  there  lies 
the  danger  of  private  instruction.  I  mean,  in 
this  way  it  pampers  the  youthful  mind  by 
giving  it  only  what  it  wishes  for,  not  what 
it  ought  to  have.  The  discipline  of  a  definite 
course  of  study  lies  in  the  necessity  of  taking 
up  and  carrying  forward  what  the  connected 
plan  requires,  and  not  what  may  suit  the 
fancy  ;  this  fits  one  for  life  too,  for  life  does 
not  always  bring  what  we  long  for,  but 
what  we  need  and  must  have." 

"  And  what  is  your  second  point  ?  "  asked 
Eric,  as  his  mother  paused. 

"  My  second  point  is  only  a  repetition  of 
the  first.  I  remember  your  father's  saying 
once,  that  the  first  and  only  true  support, 
or  rather  the  very  foundation  of  education, 
must  be  : — '  Thou  shalt,  and  thou  shalt  not ; 
straight  forward  without  comment,  without 
explanation,  without  illustration.'  Now  ask 
yourself  whether  you  are  not  weakening  his 
character.  When  our  Roland  is  brought 
into  a  conflict,  I  don't  know  whether  knowl- 
edge will  help  him,  rather  than  the  ancient 
command  :  '  Thou  shalt  and  thou  shalt  not.' 
I  only  say  this  to  you  that  you  may  think  it 
over ;  others  may  praise  you,  I  must  warn 
you.  lean  say,  though,  that  you  have  at- 
tained one  important  point ;  the  boy  has  a 
holy  reverence  for  the  spirit  of  the  Past." 

Eric  grasped  his  mother's  hand,  and 
walked  on  sometime  in  silence.  Then  he 
explained  to  her  how  he  wished  to  give  Ro- 
land not  only  knowledge,  but  a  firm  founda- 
tion of  self-reliance,  on  which  his  life  might 
rest. 

"My  son,"  replied  his  mother,  "  you 
I  have  set  yourself  a  difficult  task ;  you  want 


258. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


to  accomplish  a  three-fold  work  at  once ; 
that  is  not  possible.  Listen  to  me  patient- 
ly. You  want  to  complete  and  perfect  a 
neglected  education  ;  you  want  to  lead  to 
highev  aims,  gaining  at  the  same  time  a 
moral  foothold  and  moral  elevation,  with- 
out using  the  means  handed  down  to  you  ; 
and,  finally,  you  want  to  train  a  youth,  who 
knows  his  own  wealth,  to  be  a  useful,  unsel- 
fish, even  self-sacrificing  man.  Now  why 
do  you  laugh,  pray  ?  I  will  stop,  though 
I  might  add,  that  you  want  to  make  a  boy 
without  a  family  affectionate,  and  a  boy 
without  a  country  patriotic.  Now  tell  me 
why  you  laugh." 

"  Forgive  me,  mother;  there's  reason  in 
your  being  called  Professorin  ;  you  have 
discoursed  like  a  Professor  from  his  desk. 
But  let  me  tell  you  that  the  two-fold  or  the 
five-fold  task  is  only  a  simple  one  in  the 
end.  I  confess  I  have  often  said  to  myself 
that  I  might  make  it  easier,  but  then  I 
would  ask  myself  whether  this  was  not  an 
attempt  to  excuse  my  own  desire  of  comfort. 
I  must  make  the  experiment  of  placing  a 
youth  upon  the  platform  of  acting,  freely 
from   " 

"  Reason  P"  lesponded  the  mother. 
"  Reason  may  give  composure,  but  not  hap- 
piness nor  blessedness  ;  reason  may  not  be 
the  nourishment  which  suits  the  young 
spirit.  Remember,  my  son,  that  meat  is 
good  food,  but  we  do  not  feed  a  new-born 
child  on  meat  instead  of  milk.  Do  you  un- 
derstand what  I  mean  ?  " 

"Yes;  you  mean  that  religion  is  the 
mother's  milk  of  the  spirit." 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  Mother,  in  triumph. 
"  Your  father  always  said  that  no  man  had 
ever  produced  any  great  work,  or  accom- 
plished any  great  deed,  who  did  not  be- 
lieve in  God ;  God  is  the  highest  object  of 
imaginative  thought.  So  long  as  philoso- 
phy cannot  show  a  moral  law  which  can  be 
written,  concisely  and  with  perfect  clear- 
ness, upon  two  tables  of  stone,  education 
must  make  its  progress  through  religion." 

"'  Mother,"  answered  Eric,  "we  believe 
in  God  more  truly  than  those  who  would 
confine  him  within  the  limits  of  a  book,  of 
a  church,  or  of  a  special  form  of  worship." 

"  Ah,"  said  his  mother,  "  let  us  drop  the 
subject.  Do  you  see  that  butterfly,  flitting 
in  great  circles  against  the  window  pane  ? 
The  butterfly  takes  the  glass,  from  its  trans- 
parency, to  be  the  open  air,  and  thinks 
that  he  can  pass  through  it,  but  dashes  his 
head  at  last  against  the  glasf»  wall  that 
seemed  to  be  nothing  but  air.  But  enough, 
I  am  not  strong  enough  for  you.  If  your 
father  still  lived,  he  could  help  you  as  no 
one  else  can." 


The  conversation,  now  turning  on  the 
father's  death,  wandered  away  from  the 
previous  subject. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
AN  EXTRAORDINARY  SCHOOL-COMMITTEE. 

Frau  Ceres  was  jealous  because  the 
Professorin  devoted  less  time  to  her,  and 
surprised  them  by  suddenly  expressing  the 
desire  to  be  present  at  the  lessons,  saying 
that  she  had  more  need  of  instruction  than 
the  rest.  And  Sonnenkamp  also  betook 
himself  to  Roland's  room.  He  could  never 
be  idle,  and  so,  when  he  did  not  smoke,  he 
had  the  habit  of  whittling  all  sorts  of  fig- 
ures out  of  a  small  piece  of  wood ;  and  he 
was  especially  fond  of  cutting  into  gro- 
tesque shapes  fragments  of  grape-vine 
roots.  This  was  the  only  way  he  could 
sit  and  listen. 

Eric  saw  that  his  instruction  was  inter- 
fered with  by  this  heterogeneous  assem- 
blage. The  Mother  understood  his  dis- 
quiet, without  a  word  being  said,  and  staid 
away  from  the  lessons.  Frau  Ceres  and 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  soon  did  the  same. 

While  Eric  was  enabled  to  banish,  by  a 
strict  fulfilment  of  his  duties,  every  trace 
of  the  disturbing  element  introduced  by 
Bella,  the  Mother  was  full  of  restlessness. 
She  had  attained  what  had  been  the  object 
of  her  strongest  wishes,  access  to  a  large 
garden  of  plants  and  unlimited  sway  therein, 
and  yet  she  was  not  quite  content. 

One  morning,  as  she  was  walking  early 
in  the  park  with  her  son,  she  said :  — 

"  I  have  discovered  something  new  in 
myself:  I  have  no  talent  for  being  a  guest." 

Eric  interposed  no  questions,  for  he 
knew  that  she  would  reach  the  goal,  even 
if  she  took  a  roundabout  way.  The  Mother 
continued :  — 

"I  have  the  feeling  that  I  must  bring 
something  to  pass*;  I  cannot  be  forever  a 
passive  recipient ;  and  here  is  the  special 
danger  of  riches.  The  rich  look  upon 
themselves  as  guests  in  this  world ;  they 
themselves  have  nothing  to  do,  and  others 
must  do  everything  for  them.  I  tell  thee, 
my  dear  son,  that  I  cannot  stand  it,  I  must 
do  something.  You  men,  you  can  work, 
create,  influence,  and  renew  your  life  by 
what  you  do,  while  we  women  can  only  re- 
create and  restore  our  life  by  loving." 

Eric  suggested  that  she  accomplished  her 
part  by  simply  being,  but  the  Mother  very 
energetically  responded :  — 

"  I  am  always  vexed  with  Schiller  for 
this  :  he  should  not  have  said,  it  isn't  like 
him  to  write,  'Ordinary  natures  pay  with 
what  they  do ;  noble  ones  with  what  they 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


are.1  That  sounds  like  a  carte  blanche  for 
all  do-nothings,  with  or  without  coronets 
upon  their  seals." 

Eric  held  up  to  her  the  satisfaction  aris- 
ing from  her  influence  upon  Frau  Ceres ; 
but  the  Mother  shook  her  head  without  any 
remark. 

She  had  placed  great  hopes  in  that,  but 
such  an  enigmatical  and  incomprehensi- 
ble  person  was  presented  to  her  view,  that 
she  seemed  to  herself  wholly  useless.  She 
would  not  acknowledge  to  her  son  that  the 
house  had  something  oppressive  to  her ;  that 
the  family  had  all  its  glory  and  pride  in  ex- 
ternal possessions,  so  that  everything  here 
appeared  external,  directed  by  alien  hands, 
and  altogether  destitute  of  any  strength 
developed  from  within. 

Fräulein  Perini  spoke  always  of  Frau 
Ceres  as  "  the  dear  sufferer."  From  what 
was  Frau  Ceres  suffering  ? 

The  Professorin  had  once  lightly  touched 
upon  the  thought  how  greatly  Frau  Ceres 
must  miss  her  daughter ;  when,  with  eyes 
sparkling  like  those  of  a  snake  as  it  sud- 
denly darts  up  its  head,  she  sent  Fräulein 
Perini,  who  was  at  hand,  into  the  garden ; 
she  then  said  to  the  Professorin,  looking 
timidly  round :  — 

"He  is  not  to  blame;  I,  only  I.  I 
wished  to  punish  him  when  I  said  that  to 
my  child ;  but  I  did  not  mean  she  should  go 
away." 

The  Professorin  begged  that  she  would 
confide  the  whole  to  her,  but  Frau  Ceres 
laughed  like  a  person  wholly  beside  her- 
self. 

"No,  no,  I  shall  not  say  it  again,  and 
certainly  not  to  you." 

The  distress  which  the  Professorin  had 
experienced  at  the  first  interview  with  Frau 
Ceres  was  felt  anew.  She  believed  now 
that  she  knew  the  suffering  of  the  dark- 
eyed  woman,  who,  sometimes  listless,  and 
sometimes  restless  as  a  lizard,  was  troubled 
by  a  thought  which  she  could  not  reveal, 
and  could  not  wholly  keep  back% 

Like  a  child  to  whom  a  story  is  told,  she 
was  urged  by  Frau  Ceres  to  tell  her  over 
and  over  again  about  the  court  fetes,  which 
alone  seemed  to  awaken  any  interest.  Frau 
Ceres  was  delighted  to  hear  the  same  things 
repeated. 

But  the  mother  took  care  to  show  that  a 
princess  has  a  special  employment  for 
every  hour,  and  that  a  regular  performance 
of  duty  was  of  great  importance.  She 
spoke  earnestly,  and  came  back  often  to 
the  consideration,  that  a  woman  like  Frau 
Ceres,  born  in  a  Republic,  could  have  not 
the  remotest  conception  of  all   this,  and 


259 

that  it  was  like  being  suddenly  removed 
into  another  century. 

"  I  understand  everything  that  you  and 
your  son  say,"  Frau  Ceres  stated,  "but 
what  other  people  say,  except  the  Major, 
I  hear  it  indeed,  but  I  don't  know  where  I 
am.  Just  think,  I  was  afraid  of  you  at 
first." 

"  Of  me  ?  No  one  was  ever  afraid  of  me 
before." 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  it  some  other  time. 
Ah,  I  am  sick,  I  am  always  sick." 

The  Mother  did  not  succeed  in  arousing 
Frau  Ceres  out  of  her  life  of  mere  alternate 
sleeping  and  waking. 

Sonnenkamp  met  the  Mother  with  demon- 
strations of  deepest  respect,  and  seemed  to 
practise  upon  her  his  airs  and  attitudes  of 
genteel  behavior.  He  delicately  hinted  that 
he  had  faithfully  kept  the  agreement,  and 
had  never  asked  her  what  his  wife  said  and 
desired ;  and  now  he  would  only  beg  to  be 
permitted  to  make  one  inquiry,  whether 
Frau  Ceres  had  never  spoken  of  Manna. 

"  Certainly,  but  very  briefly." 

"And  may  I  not  be  allowed  to  know 
what  this  brief  communication  was  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  myself ;  it  is  still  a  riddle. 
But,  I  beseech  you,  do  not  lead  me  to  dis- 
loyalty and  breach  of  trust." 

"Breach  of  trust?"  cried  Sonnenkamp 
with  trembling  lips. 

"  Ah,  it  was  not  the  right  word.  Your 
wife  has  confided  nothing  to  me,  but  I  be- 
lieve,—  I  pray  you  not  to  mistake  me, —  I 
suspect,  she  is  secretly  afraid  of  Fräulein 
Perini,  or  is  vexed  or  angry  with  her.  As 
I  said  before,  I  am  very  far  from  meaning 
to  blame  Fräulein  Perini,  and  I  almost  re- 
pent of  having  said  as  much  as  I  have." 

"  You  can  be  at  rest  on  that  point.  My 
wife  would  like  to  send  Fräulein  Perini  out 
of  the  house  ten  times  every  day,  and  ten 
times  every  day  to  call  her  back  again. 
There  is  no  person,  not  even  yourself,  who 
is  more  needful  to  her  and  more  useful  than 
Fräulein  Perini."  The  Professorin  longed 
to  be  out  of  the  house,  and  she  could  find 
no  adequate  reason  for  the  deep  hold  which 
the  desire  had  taken  upon  her.  She  had 
no  desire  to  be  made  the  depositary  of  se- 
crets, nor  to  solve  riddles,  and  yet  she  was 
incessantly  occupied  with  the  thought  of  the 
daughter  of  the  house.  A  ^child,  a  grown- 
up girl,  whom  such  a  family  abandoned, 
perhaps  this  maiden  was  a  charge  for  her ; 
but  how  it  was  to  be,  she  could  not  perceive, 
and  yet  the  thought  would  not  leave  her. 

She  wanted  to  question  the  Major.  Clod- 
wig,  and  Bella ;  and  she  would  even  have 
liked  to  have  recourse  to  Pranken,  but 


260 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Pranken  had  not-  been  visible  for  several 
weeks.  She  got  Joseph  to  show  her  Man- 
na's room  one  day ;  and  while  there,  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  the  dear  child  were  call- 
ing her,  and  as  if  it  were  her  duty  to  lend 
her  a  helping  hand. 

She  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Superior,  inform- 
ing her  that  she  would  pay  her  a  visit  at  the 
first  opportunity. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
FRAU  PETRA. 

When  Sonnenkamp  was  alone  in  the  gar- 
den, in  the  hot-houses,  in  the  work-room, 
or  his  seed-room,  he  wore  perpetually  a 
complacent,  triumphant  smile,  often  con- 
gratulating himself  upon  his  success  in  mak- 
ing persons  and  circumstances  play  into  his 
hands,  ruling,  bending,  and  directing  them, 
just  as  he  did  the  fruit  in  the  garden. 

The  refractoriness  and  the  indolence  of 
Frau  Ceres  were  very  serviceable,  at  first,  in 
lending  to  the  whole  establishment  an  air 
of  respectability.  It  gave  the  appearance 
of  self-eontainedness,  as  if  there  was  no 
need  of  other  people  ;  as  if  there  was  every- 
thing in  their  own  circle,  and  what  should 
be  superadded  to  this  would  be  received  gra- 
ciously, but  was  not  an  absolute  necessity. 
But  this  appearance  of  seclusion  soon  be- 
came a  sort  of  mysterious  riddle,  and  excited 
curiosity  and  scandal. 

Sonnenkamp  had  foreseen  this,  but  had 
not  anticipated  that  this  state  of  feeling 
would  last  so  long.  The  shyness  and  re- 
serve of  the  dwellers  in  the  vicinity  in  form- 
ing any  intimate  relations  with  him,  and 
their  failure  to  visit  him  on  familiar  terms, 
gradually  disturbed  him.  This  distance 
must  not  be  allowed  to  have  too  much 
weight,  it  had  better  not  be  noticed ;  and 
complaisance  must  be  shown  towards  these 
who  hold  themselves  thus  distantly,  and  it 
must  not  be  seen  that  their  bearing  is  re- 
market! at  all. 

The  relation  to  Otto  von  Pranken  had 
begun  with  the  stable,  but  proceeding  far- 
ther, by  the  connection  of  the  families  prom- 
ised now  a  firm  basis  in  the  future.  Until 
now,  Sonnenkamp1s  house,  park,  and  garden, 
considered  as  a  whole,  seemed  like  some 
isolated,  alien,  and  extraneous  plant  within 
a  flower-pot.  Through  Eric  and  his  family 
the  roots  had  begun  to  spread,  and  the  plant 
to  grow  independently  in  the  open  ground. 

The 'intimate  relation  with  Clodwig  and 
Bella,  which  Pranken  had  not  been  able  to 
bring  about,  had  been  effected  through  Eric  ; 
and  now  the  Professor's  widow  was  to  carry 
that  still  farther,  by  giving  and  receiving 


visits  which  would  naturally  unite  the  fami- 
lies. 

Sonnenkamp  very  cautiously  expressed 
to  the  Mother  his  regret,  that  his  wife  did 
not  incline  to  keep  up  a  neighborly  acquain- 
tance with  the  respectable  families  around. 
The  Mother  had  a  desire  to  get  a  look  into 
the  life  of  this  part  of  the  country,  and  to 
express^hanks  to  those  who  had  manifested 
so  much  friendliness  towards  her  son.  She 
wanted  first  to  visit  the  house  of  the  Doctor. 
Sonnenkamp  suggested  that  she  should  then 
call  upon  the  justice's  family.  He  placed 
his  whole  house  at  her  disposal  if  she  wished 
to  make  invitations. 

One  beautiful  Sunday  in  the  latter  part 
of  summer  was  fixed  upon  for  visiting  the 
neighborhood. 

Frau  Ceres  had  promised  to  go  with 
them,  but  when  the  morning  came  for  them 
to  start,  she  declared  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble. The  Professorin  now  observed,  for 
the  first  time,  a  spice  of  artfulness  in  her ; 
she  had  consented,  evidently,  to  avoid  be- 
ing urged ;  and  now  she  planted  herself 
upon  her  own  will,  without  making  any  plea 
of  ill  health. 

Fräulein  Perini  remained  at  home  with 
her. 

They  drove  first  to  Herr  von  Endlich's, 
although  they  might  have  known  that  the 
family  were  absent ;  they  wanted  only  to 
leave  their  cards. 

From  Herr  von  Endlich's  Sonnenkamp 
returned  to  the  villa,  and  left  Roland,  Eric, 
and  the  Mother,  to  proceed  to  the  town. 
He  called  out  to  them  at  parting,  that 
they  must  take  care  not  to  drink  all  the 
wine  that  should  be  offered  them. 

And  when  the  Mother  was  now  driving 
with  Eric  and  Roland,  the  thought  occurred 
to  her  that  she  was  not  making  these  visits 
on  her  own  account ;  but  she  was  just  as 
happy  in  making  them  as  the  representative 
of  her  friendsly  host. 

Roland  wished  them  to  stop  as  they  were 
going  along,  for  they  met  Claus,  the  field- 
guard.  Roland  introduced  him  to  Eric's 
mother;  she  extended  her  hand,  and  said 
she  would  soon  give  him  a  call. 

Claus,  looking  very  much  gratified,  and 
pointing  to  Roland,  replied  :  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  if  I  had  to  turn  out  a  grand- 
mother for  him,  it  would  be  nobody  else 
but  you." 

They  laughed,  and  drove  on.  When 
they  reached  the  town,  the  bells  of  the 
newly-erected  Protestant  church  were  just 
ringing.  It  stood  upon  a  hill,  from  which 
there  was  a  wide  view  of  the  country 
around. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


261 


The  Mother  stopped,  and  went  with  Eric 
and  Roland  into  the  church.  • 

Roland  had  never  been  in  a  Protestant 
church  while  service  was  going  on.  The 
Mother  requested  him  not  to  go  in  now, 
when  she  heard  him  say  this,  but  to  proceed 
directly  with  Eric  to  the  town ;  he  was  bent, 
however,  upon  remaining  with  her. 

They  entered  the  simple,  plain  building 
just  as  the  congregation  was  finishing  the 
hymn.  The  Mother  was  pained  to  hear  a 
discourse  on  eternal  punishment,  delivered 
in  a  high-pitched  voice,  and  regretted  in 
her  own  mind  that  she  had  yielded  to  Ro- 
land. 

After  they  had  taken  a  survey  of  the 
cheering  landscape  on  coming  out,  the 
Mother  took  Roland's  hand,  saying  :  — 

"  When  you  are  prepared  for  it,  I  shall 
make  vou  acquainted  with  one  of  your 
countrymen,  from  whom  you  can  get  higher 
views." 

"Is  it  Benjamin  Franklin?  I  know 
him;1 

"  No  ;  the  man  I  speak  of  is  a  preacher 
who  died  only  a  few  years  ago ;  a  man  of 
the  deepest  religious  nature.  I  am  glad  to 
have  known  him  personally ;  he  has  been  a 
guest  at  our  house,  and  I  have  taken  him 
by  the  hand.  He  and  your  father,  Eric, 
became  intimate  friends  at  once.'1 

"Do  you  mean  Theodore  Parker?"  in- 
quired Eric. 

"  I  mean  him,  and  I  feel  elevated  to  have 
had  such  a  man  live  with  us." 

"Why  have  you  never  spoken  of  this 
man?  "  said  Roland,  turning  to  Eric. 

"Because  I  did  not  wish  to  interfere 
with  the  faith  in  which  you  were  brought 
up." 

Eric  said  this  without  meaning  to  re- 
prove his  mother,  and  yet  she  was  alarmed 
when  she  heard*  his  reply ;  she  repeated, 
that  Roland  would  learn  about  the  man 
after  his  judgment  had  become  more  ma- 
ture. 

The  mischief,  however,  had  been  done, 
of  pointing  out  to  the  youth  something 
which  was  now  withheld  from  him ;  and  as 
he  had  never  been  accustomed  to  being 
denied  anything,  he  would  now,  as  usual, 
be  eager  after  what  was  forbidden,  and  if 
it  was  not  given  him,  he  would  take  secret 
measures  to  get  it  himself. 

Eric  and  Roland  received  the  salutation 
of  many  coming  out  of  church.  Eric  intro- 
duced his  mother  to  the  School-director, 
the  Forester,  his  wife  and  sister-in-law,  who 
all  accompanied  the  friends  into  the  town. 
The  walk  along  the  public  highway  was 
pleasant ;  there  is  nothing,  on  the  whole, 
like  this  pleasant  mood  with  which  a  large 


number  of  persons  of  various  condition 
and  character  return  fr'om  church. 

"Wasn't  the  Doctor's  wife  at  church?" 
asked  the  Mother. 

They  told  her  that  she  never  went  on 
Sunday  morning,  but  staid  at  home  to  com- 
fort the  country  people  who  came  early  on 
Sunday ;  she  often  gave  them  simple  house- 
hold remedies,  and  arranged  the  order  in 
which  they  should  be  admitted  to  the  Doc- 
tor on  his  return. 

Eric  now  heard,  for  the  first  time,  that 
they  called  the  Doctor's  wife  Frau  Petra. 
She  had  something  of  St.  Peter's  office,  the 
keeping  of  the  door  into  the  heavenly  king- 
dom of  healing. 

They  entered  the  Doctor's  house.  The 
cleanliness,  of  the  entry  floor  and  steps  was 
notable  as  usual,  and  on  the  walls  good  pic- 
tures were  hanging,  no  one  of  which  seemed 
to  owe  its  position  to  chance.  Green  climb- 
ing-plants were  standing  upon  pier-tables, 
and  sending  out  their  tendrils  in  all  direc- 
tions. In  the  sitting-room  the  Avork-table  was 
placed  under  the  window,  before  which  was 
a  street-mirror ;  and  on  the  table  itself 
stood  a  camelia  in  full  bloom.  They  heard 
the  Doctor's  wife  saying  in  the  next 
room,  — 

"  Yes,  good  Nanny,  you  are  talking  the 
whole  time  about  religion  and  conformity 
to  the  will  of  God,  and  now  you  are  clear 
down  in  the  depths  of  despair,  and  out  of 
patience,  and  unwilling  to  take  kindly  ad- 
vice. My  husband  can  give  medicine,  but 
you  must  give  yourself  love  and  patience. 
And  you,  Anna,  you  give  your  child  too  much 
to  eat  and  then  you  have  to  keep  coming 
for  help.  One  can't  get  understanding  at 
the  apothecary's.  And  you,  Peter,  you 
go  home  and  apply  a  bandage  wet  with 
warm  vinegar." 

Nothing  further  was  heard.  Apparently 
the  servant  had  come  in  and  announced  the 
arrival  of  the  visitors. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  Doctor's  wife 
entered.  She  gave  a  hearty  greeting  to 
the  Mother,  and  ordered  the  servant  to 
bring  a  bottle  of  wine  and  three  glasses. 
In  spite  of  the  Mother's  refusal,  the  gentle- 
men must  drink. 

When  the  Professorin  lauded  the  benefi- 
cent influence'of  the  Doctor's  wife,  the  lat- 
ter at  once  accepted  the  praise  saying,  — 

"  One  can  learn  something  in  more  than 
forty  years'  experience,  such  as  I  have  had. 
At  first  1  shuddered,  but  I  was  always  angry 
with  myself  for  it ;  now  I  have  learned  from 
my  husband  what  stands  me  in  the  best 
stead." 

"  What  is  that?" 

"  Rude   bluntness,  the   only  effectual 


262 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


thing.  Each  one  is  thinking  about  himself, 
but  why  talk  about  myself?  11 

She  expressed  her  satisfaction  at  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  the  Mother.  The  two 
ladies  smiled  when  Roland  said  : — 

M  We  went  to  the  church,  and  from  there 
we  came  to  you,  and  we  think  we  are  much 
better  off  here." 

The  wine  came,  and  Eric  and  Roland 
drank  the  health  of  the  Doctor's  substitute. 
Then  they  went  to  the  study  of  the  Physi- 
cian, and  Eric  explained  the  anatomical 
charts  to  Roland. 

The  Mother  urged  the  Doctors  wife,  with 
whom  she  was  visiting,  to  return  her  visit 
soon,  and  expressed  the  hope  of  great  good 
to  result  to  Frau  Ceres  from  her  resolute 
nature. 

"  I  should  be  afraid  of  being  too  blunt,11 
answered  the  Doctor^  wife,  whose  nature 
was  in  reality  exceedingly  gentle  and  con- 
siderate. 

"  I  trust  you  will  pardon  my  boldness  ;  is 
it  true  that  Manna  is  to  be  taken  from  the 
convent,  and  have  her  education  completed 
by  you  ? 11 

The  Mother  was  amazed.  What  was  to 
her  only  a  vague  thought,  was  the  gossip  of 
the  neighborhood.  She  could  not  imagine 
what  had  given  rise  to  it,  and  the  Doctors 
wife  could  not  tell  where  she  had  heard  it. 

When  the  Mother  now  made  particular 
inquiries  about  Manna,  the  Doctor^  wife 
said  that  Roland  was  the  only  one  of  Son- 
nenkamp's  family  whom  she  knew.  She 
knew  nothing  at  all  about  Manna ;  but  Lina, 
the  Justice's  daughter,  had  been  her  friend, 
and  from  her  something  definite  might  be 
learned. 

The  Physician  joined  them,  but  did  not 
stay  long.  He  waited  only  to  get,  as  soon 
as  he  could,  the  report  from  his  wife. 

The  Mother  took  leave,  and  Frau  Petra 
did  not  urge  her  to  remain,  saying  that  she 
had  still  to  speak  with  several  of  the  patients 
before  they  went. 

In  lively  spirits  they  left  the  house. 

They  had  to  wait  longer  at  the  Justice's, 
for  wife  and  daughter  must  first  make  their 
toilet.  When  they  finally  appeared,  they 
had  many  apologies  to  make  for  the  disor- 
derly appearance  of  the  room,  and  for  their 
own  hurried  toilet ;  yet  dress  and  room  were 
as  neat  and  pretty  as  one  could  wish. 

The  messenger  was  sent  after  the  Justice, 
who  was  taking  his  Sunday's  glass ;  and 
when  at  last  the  Professorin  had  taken  a 
seat  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  where  one  could 
hardly  find  room  among  the  embroidered 
cushions,  a  pleasant  conversation  ensued. 
The  Justice's  wife  had  adroitly  made  mention 


of  her  father,  whom  the  Mother  knew,  and 
they  gradually  established  an  agreeable  inter- 
course, after  the  first  awkward  preliminaries 
were  all  over.  The  Professorin  knew  how 
to  draw  Lina  out,  and  was  greatly  pleased 
with  her  bright  description  of  the  convent- 
life.  Lina  was  encouraged  by  this,  so  that 
she  became  more  and  more  animated  and 
communicative,  to  her  mother's  great  aston- 
ishment. 

The  Justice  made  his  appearance.  He 
had  evidently  swallowed  down  his  glass 
hastily,  for  nothing  ought  to  be  left  unfin- 
ished. He  shook  the  hand  of  the  Profess- 
orin longer  and  harder  than  was  at  all  ne- 
cessary, and  assured  her  humorously — hu- 
mor seemed  very  odd  on  the  little  man's 
grave  face  —  of  his  magisterial  protection. 
He  then  gave  an  account  to  Eric  and  Roland 
of  the  Pole's  having  broken  out  of  the  House 
of  Correction,  and  of  their  having  put  up  an 
advertisement  for  his  apprehension,  but 
they  would  be  glad  never  to  see  him  again. 

The  Justice's  wife  and  Lina  put  on  their 
hats,  and  went  with  their  guests  by  a  circu- 
itous path  along  the  Rhine  to  the  house  of 
the  School-director,  not  without  some  con- 
sciousness, perhaps,  of  the  good  appearance 
they  were  making.  Eric  walked  with  the 
Justice's  wife,  the  Justice  joined  Roland, 
and  Lina  went  with  the  Professorin. 

Lina  began  of  her  own  accord  to  talk  of 
Manna,  of  her  present  melancholy,  and  of 
her  former  liveliness  ;  she  had  cherished  the 
most  enthusiastic  love  towards  her  father, 
so  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  leave 
him  for  a  single  day  ;  and  Lina  begged  the 
Mother  to  use  her  influence  to  have  Manna 
return  once  more. 

The  Mother  carefully  refrained  from  mak- 
ing any  inquiries,  but  it  struck  her  strange- 
ly that  from  these  visits,  made  only  out  of 
politeness,  a  new  duty  seemed  to  be  unfold- 
ing before  her. 

If  she  had  been  able  to  imagine  that  she 
was  only  used  by  Sonnenkamp  to  play  into 
his  own  hands,  she  would  have  been  still 
more  astonished  at  the  various  phases  which 
one  simple  occurrence  may  assume. 

They  did  not  find  the  family  of  the  School- 
director  or  of  the  Forester  at  home  ;  as  they 
were  returning  in  the  carriage  and  driving 
by  the  Doctor's  house,  his  wife  was  standing 
in  the  doorway ;  she  called  to  them  to  stop. 

She  came  out  to  them,  and  said  that  she 
had  forgotten  to  remind  the  Mother  to  call 
upon  the  Major  and  Fräulein  Milch  to-day  ; 
the  Major  was  very  good-natured,  but  he 
was  very  sensitive  in  regard  to  the  respect 
shown  him,  and  he  never  forgave  any  one 
for  neglecting  to  pay  the  proper  attention  to 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


263 


Fräulein  Milch.  Fräulein  Milch  was  a  very 
excellent,  respectable  person,  if  they  could 
overlook  one  thing. 

Thev  returned  to  the  villa  in  good  spirits. 

The'  first  person  they  met  in  the  court- 
vard  was  the  Major.  He  looked  somewhat 
out  of  humor,  but  his  countenance  lighted 
up  when  the  Professorin  said  that  she  had 
intended  to  call  upon  him  and  Fräulein 
Milch  to-day,  and  to  get  a  cup  of  coffee,  as 
she  unfortunately  could  not  fall  into  the 
ways  of  this  part  of  the  country,  and  drink 
wine  every  day. 

The  Major  nodded ;  but  he  soon  went  off 


to  send  a  child  of  the  porter's  to  Fräulein 
Milch  with  the  welcome  message. 

The  Mother  was  very  animated,  and  Eric 
expressed  his  joy  that  his  mother  experi- 
enced something  of  that  exhilaration  pro- 
duced by  a  sight  of  the  life  of  the  people 
and  the  life  of  nature  along  the  Rhine. 

When  Roland  came  to  dinner,  he  said  in 
a  low  tone  to  the  Professorin  :  — 

"  I  have  looked  into  the  Conversations- 
Lexicon,  and  to-day  is  Theodore  Parker's 
birthday ;  to-day  is  the  twenty-fourth  of 
August." 

The  Mother  whispered  that  it  would  be 
well  for  him  to  speak  of  it  to  no  one  but  her. 


264 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
SOUR  CREAM  SWEETENED. 

TnE  Major  had  never  been  in  better 
spirits  at  the  table  than  to-day.  He  forgot 
to  beckon  to  Joseph  to  fill  up  a  second  time 
his  glass  with  the  favorite  Burgundy. 

Frau  Ceres  smiled  dubiously  when  the 
Professorin  gave  an  account  of  the  ex- 
cellent people  she  had  seen,  the  refreshing 
influence  of  the  prospect  of  river  and  moun- 
tain, and  the  yet  fairer  one  of  such  noble, 
genuine,  domestic  life.  She  added  that  she 
had  but  little  acquaintance  with  other  lands, 
but  it  was  certain  that  no  land  surpassed 
Germany  in  real  depth  of  feeling  and  gen- 
erally diffused  culture.  Cities  and  villages, 
that  were  only  empty  names  to  the  traveller 
whizzing  by,  concealed  within  them  the 
beautiful  and  the  best  adornments  of  hu- 
manity. • 

"Nowhere,  not  in  any  place  where 
church-bells  have  rung,  has  a  better  sermon 
been  preached  than  that,11  said  the  Major 
to  Eric.  He  then  rose.  "  Now,  the 
Mother  —  all  of  you  drink  with  me  —  now, 
long  life  to  the  Mother ;  she  enjoys  life 
herself,  and  makes  other  people  see  life  on 
its  beautiful  and  fair  side,  and  the  Builder 
of  all  the  worlds  will  bless  her  for  it.  My 
brothers  !  —  I  mean  my  —  my  —  then,  long 
life  to  the  Professorin.11 

Never  before  had  the  Major  made  so  long 
a  speech  at  table,  and  never  had  he  been  so 
joyous  as  to-day.  Soon  after  dinner  he 
went  towards  home,  repeating  over  to  him- 
self by  the  way  the  words  of  his  speech,  for 
he  specially  prided  himself  on  being  able  to 
give  it  to  .Fraulein  Milch  word  for  word. 
All  the  reputation  in  the  world  is  of  no 
account  if  she  does  not*  praise  him,  for  she 
has  the  best  insight  into  everything. 

When  he  reached  the  house,  and  Fräu- 
lein Milch  complained  to  him  that  to-day 
her  sweet  cream  had  turned  sour,  and  not  a 
drop  was  to  be  got  in  the  whole  village,  he 
signified  to  her  by  a  wave  of  the  hand  that 
she  was  to  keep  silence,  so  that  he  should 
not  forget  his  toast.  Placing  himself  di- 
rectly in  front  of  her,  he  said :  — 

"This  is  the  speech  I  made  at  dinner." 
Laadi  looked  up  at  her  master,  when  she 
heard  him  declaiming  with  such  energy,  and 
when  the  Major  had  concluded,  she  signified 
by  a  bark  that  she  comprehended  him. 
The  Major  did  not  mean  to  tell  a  lie,  but  the 
speech  was  assuredly  better,  at  least  it  was 
longer,  as  he  rehearsed  it  now  to  Fräulein 
Milch,  than  the  one  he  had  made.  She 
said,  when  he  got  through  :  — 

"I  am  only  glad  that  there  were  .some 
good  people  there  to  hear  you.1' 


Fräulein  Milch  did  not  take  to  Herr  and 
Frau  Sonnenkamp ;  but  she  especially  dis- 
liked Fräulein  Perini. 

"  Why  haven't  you  spread  our  beautiful 
white  table-cloth  ? 11  asked  the  Major,  when 
he  surveyed  the  neat  table  set  in  the  gar- 
den. 

"  Because  the  white  is  too  dazzling  in  the 
sunlight." 

"That's  true;  it1  s  well.  Mustn't  I  shut 
Laadi  up  ?  she's  so  demonstrative." 

"  No  ;  just  let  the  dog  be  loose." 

The  Major  was  quite  in  despair  that  he 
could  not  do  something  to  show  honor  to  his 
guests. 

After  a  while  he  came  back  in  triumph, 
for  he  had  done  something  which  was  a 
great  sacrifice  for  him ;  he  had  begged  the 
Grand-master's  cook  to  give  him  a  pitcher 
of  fresh  cream.  He  scarcely  ever  borrowed 
anything,  but  to-day  an  exception  must  be 
made. 

He  managed  to  place  the  pitcher  upon 
the  table  unnoticed  by  Fräulein  Milch,  and 
put  his  hand  up  to  his  mouth  to  keep  himself 
from  laughing  outright,  when  he  thought  of 
the  Fräulein's  astonishment  at  finding  sweet 
cream  upon  the  table. 

He  did  still  more.  He  went  into  the 
sitting-room  and  dragged  his  great,  leather- 
covered  easy-chair  into  the  garden,  for  the 
Professorin  to  sit  in ;  but  when  Fräulein 
Milch  came  out,  she  surprised  him  by  point- 
ing out  that  the  easy-chair  would  not  bear  the 
bright  sunlight  out-of-doors.  They  carried 
it  back  together. 

"  Sha'n't  we  go  to  meet  them  ?  "  said  the 
Major,  who  had  taken  out  his  spy-glass ; 
"just  look  through,  —  step, 'I'll  alter  it,  — 
there;  I- think  there's  somebody  in  sight 
down  yonder." 

Fräulein  Milch  begged  him  to  be  quiet, 
and  the  Major  looked  now  as  if  he  were 
ready  to  weep.  Laying  his  hand  on  Fräu- 
lein Milch's  shoulder,  he  said,  — 

' '  It's  hard  —  very  hard  —  cruel  —  bad 
—  very  bad  —  very  cruel  that  I  can't  say, 
Here,  Frau  Dournay,  here  is  my  wife." 

Fräulein  Milch  wheeled  about  swiftly,  and 
there  was  a  freezing  coldness  in  her  whole 
demeanor. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  what's  the  matter?  " 

The  dog  barked  as  if  she  would  say, 
"  What's  all  this?  What  do  you  look  so 
angry  for  ?  " 

"I'm  quiet  now  —  I'm  quiet  now!  Be 
easy,  Laadi,"  said  the  Major  soothingly. 
He  was  so  exhausted,  that  he  was  obliged 
to  sit  down  ;  he  tried  to  light  his  long  pipe, 
but  it  went  out. 

He  stood  by  the  garden-fence,  drumming 
with  his  fingers  upon  one  of  the  rails,  and 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON   THE  RHINE. 


265 


lost  in  so  deep  a  reverie,  that  the  guests 
stood  before  him,  without  his  having  noticed 
their  approach. 

The  meeting  of  the  Mother  and  Fräulein 
Milch  was  not  so  cordial  as  the  Major  had 
hoped  it  would  be.  Each  seemed  to  hold 
back  a  little,  and  they  evidently  gave  each 
other  a  close  inspection.  But  the  Major 
laughed  inwardly  when  he  thought  of  the 
sweet  cream,  which  Fräulein  Milch  poured 
out  just  as  usual,  without  noticing  it. 

He  soon  tapped  with  his  stump-finger 
upon  his  forehead,  saying  to  himself,  — 

"  She's  much  too  smart  to  make  any  fuss 
before  strangers.  O,  she's  wise;  one  can't 
know  how  wise  she  is  !  " 

How  he  would  have  liked  to  say  that  to 
the  Professorin  !  But  he  resolved  to  speak 
as  little  as  possible  to-day,  and  leave  the 
field  wholly  to  Fräulein  Milch. 

Just  the  right  subject  of  conversation  did 
not  seem  to  come  up ;  but  when  the 
Doctor's  wife  was  mentioned,  Fräulein 
Milch«expressed  her  respect  for  the  noble 
woman,  who  had  just  the  right  sort  of  aris- 
tocracy. 

"  And  what  do  you  mean  by  the  right 
sort  of  aristocracy  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  to  receive  every  one's 
respect  and  honor." 

"Exactly  so,  and  that  perhaps  is  still 
truer  of  Frau  Dournay,"  interposed  the 
Major. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  Fräulein  Milch 
sneered  a  trifle,  and  it  was  not  pleasant  to 
him. 

The  Mother  asked  Fräulein  Milch  if  she 
were  a  native  of  this  part  of  the  country. 

She  answered  curtly  in  the  negative. 

At  last  an  expedient  occurred  to  the  Ma- 
jor. Two  strange  horses  must  be  left  in 
the  stable  by  themselves  ;  perhaps  they  will 
kick  a  little  at  first,  but  they  are  soon  on 
good  terms.  He  busied  himself  in  giving  a 
long  account  to  Eric  and  Roland  of  the 
vineyard,  which  would  this  year  yield  wine 
for  the  first  time,  virgin  wine  as  it  was 
called ;  they  must  go  with  him  to  see  it. 

The  ladies  were  now  by  themselves. 
The  Mother  wanted  to  say  something  com- 
mendatory of  Fräulein  Milch,  about  whom 
she  had  heard  so  many  favorable  things  ;  but 
this  did  not  exactly  suit  her,  and  by  a  happy 
turn  she  referred  to  the  strangeness  of  the 
change  in  her  own  life,  and  how  much  she 
needed  help. 

This  was  the  right  key  to  touch,  for  Fräu- 
lein Milch  was  in  her  element  whenever  she 
could  render  any  advice  and  assistance. 
She  took  an  unexpectedly  deep  view,  saying 
that  a  firm  position  in  life  could  be  kept,  so 
long  as  one's  self-respect  was  preserved.  The 


Mother  was  surprised  at  the  tact  and  knowl- 
edge of  the  world  she  displayed.  She  ex- 
pected to  see  a  narrow-minded,  frivolous, 
talkative  housewife,  and  here  was  evidence 
of  refined  thought  which  could  be  the  result 
only  of  deep  and  mature  reflection. 

She  wanted  to  say,  You  are  more  than 
your  circumstances  would  indicate  ;  but  she 
refrained,  and  expressed  anew  her  satisfac- 
tion at  the  beauty  of  the  landscape,  which 
was  continually  unfolding  hidden  charms, 
and  at  the  rich  fulness  of  life,  as  revealed 
in  human  beings,  who  even  in  solitude 
cherished  refined  thoughts  and  noble  senti- 
ments. Fräulein  Milch,  who  had  seated 
herself  with  her  cup  of  coffee  a  little  apart 
from  the  table,  now  drew  up  nearer,  and 
beginning  with  an  allusion  to  Eric's  discreet 
management,  she  proceeded  to  give  a  clear- 
sighted characterization  of  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp and  his  wife. 

She  did  not  mention  Fräulein  Perini. 
She  only  expressed  her  regret  that  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  who  was  not  really  hard- 
hearted, should  have  no  systematic  benefi- 
cence. She  drew  a  picture  of  the  necessi- 
tous condition  of  various  people  in  the 
neighborhood,  for  she  knew  everybody  for 
miles  around.    The  Mother  said  finally :  — 

'*  I  thank  you  ;  you  remind  me  of  a  work 
which  I  had  lost  sight  of,  and  which  was  the 
very  reason  of  my  coming  here.  If  I  have 
the  disposal  of  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  charities, 
will  you  assist  me  ?  " 

Fräulein  Milch  promised  to  do  so  ;  but  she 
suggested  that  it  would  be  very  much  more 
expedient  for  the  Professorin  to  have  the 
cooperation  of  the  daughter  of  the  house ; 
in  this  way  many  good  results  could  be  se- 
cured. The  girl,  who  was  serious  and  ear- 
nest, would  take  again  her  proper  place, 
and  the  immeasurable  wealth  of  the  father 
would  have  a  secure  and  immovable  basis  if 
it  were  intrusted  to  the  care  of  the  daughter 
of  the  house. 

The  Mother's  eyes  gleamed  as  she  looked 
at  Fräulein  Milch ;  yonder  the  Doctor's  wife, 
and  here  the  housekeeper,  are  appealing  to 
her  to  bring  Manna  out  of  the  convent,  and 
initiate  her  into  an  active  life  of  common 
usefulness. 

She  made,  very  cautiously,  further  in- 
quiries of  the  charitable  and  sensible  house- 
keeper concerning  the  people  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, but  Fräulein  Milch  evaded  them. 
She  affirmed  that  she  did  not  have  the  right 
veiw  of  people ;  she  saw  them  on  Sundays 
and  holidays,  when  they  were  in  a  merry 
mood,  singing,  and  going  up  and  down  the 
mountain  with  wreaths  on  their  heads ;  but 
whoever  was  not  in  the  very  midst  of  this 
hilarious  movement,  whoever  observed  it 


266 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


from  the  window,  or  from  behind  the  garden 
hedge,  could  form  no  suitable  estimate  of 
it ;  generally  the  whole  seems  one  undistin- 
guishable  jumble,  just  as  when  one  stops  his 
ears  and  looks  at  people  dancing,  but  hears 
nothing  of  the  music. 

The  Mother  led  the  talk  back  to  Manna, 
and,  forgetting  her  usual  marked  reserve, 
Fräulein  Milch  declared  that  Manna  must 
have  received  some  severe  shock,  as  it  was 
not  natural  for  any  one  to  go  from  the  ex- 
treme of  overbearing  pride  to  the  extreme  of 
humility. 

"I  will  relate  to  you  one  little  incident 
of  Manna,  and  you  will  know  what  she  is. 
A  stinging  fly,  a  Rhine-gnat,  as  it  is  called, 
alighted  on  her  hand,  and  sucked  her  blood ; 
she  quietly  let  it  suck,  and  then  said :  '  The 
u^ly  fly  !  I  have  let  it  drink  my  blood 
without  disturbing  it,  and  just  for  that  it 
has  stung  me.'  Now  can't  you  know  what 
the  child  is  from  this  little  trait,  supposing 
that  they  have  not  spoiled  her  in  the  con- 
vent ?  I  can  speak  of  the  child  with  so 
much  the  more  freedom,  as  she  has  a  dislike 
to  me,  of  which  Fräulein  Perini  was  the 
cause." 

Fräulein  Milch  now  launched  out  into  a 
passionate  invective  against  Pranken. 

She  acknowledged  that  her  aversion  to 
him  arose  from  his  making  the  Major  the 
target  of  his  wit,  more  than  was  attributable 
to  youthful  arrogance ;  he  was  both  witty 
amd  supercilious.  And  it  was  so  much  the 
more  remarkable  that  now  he  should  pre- 
tend to  be  pious,  and  that  too,  before  he 
had  married  Manna ;  there  must  be  some 
deep-laid  game  here,  not  easily  seen  through. 

Engaged  thus  in  friendly  intercourse,  the 
two  women  got  to  know  each  other.  Frau 
Dournay,  with  her  naturally  ladylike  and 
easy  bearing,  imparted  a  great  deal,  without 
seeming  to  do  so  ;  Fräulein  Milch,  with'her 
acquired  culture,  which  did  not  sit  grace- 
fully upon  her,  in  every  communication  of 
deep  thought  showed  plainly  the  difficult 
steps  by  which  she  had  made  it  her  own. 
When  the  Professorin  spoke  with  such  ease 
and  fluency,  Fräulein  Milch  nodded,  saying 
to  herself;  "  Yes,  forsooth !  this  lady  has 
sat  down  at  the  table  all  spread,  and  been 
served  by  others,  with  all  the  means  of  cul- 
ture, while  I  have  had  to  cook  my  own  food 
and  to  set  my  own  table." 

The  Major  saw  from  a  distance  the  two 
women  take  each  other  by  the  hand,  and 
Sie  spoke  to  Laadi  fondling  words  that  he 
would  like  to  have  spoken  to  Fräulein 
Milch. 

"  You  are  a  pretty  creature,  smarter 
than  all  the  world  put  together  —  clear  as 
the  day  —  quiet  and  steady  —  not  you, 


Laadi,  —  what  are  you  looking  at  me  so 
for  ?  » 

He  returned  to  the  garden,  Roland  and 
Eric  following  immediately. 

As  the  Major  was  escorting  the  Profess- 
orin a  part  of  the  way  home,  she  said  :  — 

"  I  believe  that  I  am  acquainted  now  not 
only  with  the  two  best,  but  also  the  two 
happiest  people  in  this  region." 

The  Major  remained  some  time  standing 
in  the  same  place,  and  looking  after  the  de- 
parting guests ;  then  turning  his  eyes  up- 
ward, he  said :  — 

"  Thanks  to  thee,  thou  Builder  of  all  the 
worlds  !  Thou  knowest  what  I  would  say, 
without  my  speaking,  —  oh  dear !  " 

book  viii.  —  chapter  i. 
on  goethe's  birth-day. 

The  swiftly-flowing  Rhine  between  its 
bends  seems  transformed  into  a  lake,  until, 
curving  around  the  jutting  mountain,  it  con- 
tinues its  course.  • 

This  is  very^much  the  case  with  the  story 
we  are  narrating. 

The  Mother  wanted  to  go  straightforward 
to  the  goal  she  had  in  view,  but  many 
obstacles  interposed.  First  came  a  very 
pressing  invitation  from  Clodwig,  for  the 
Mother  and  the  whole  of  Sonnenkamp's 
family  to  celebrate  Goethe's  birth-day  at 
Wolfsgarten. 

The  invitation  was  accepted ;  but  Frau 
Ceres  and  Fräulein  Perini  remained  at 
home . 

They  drove  to  Wolfsgarten.  Eric  did 
not  say  it  in  so  many  words,  but  his  eyes 
expressed  how  much  he  felt  protected  and 
supported  by  the  Mother's  presence,  in 
entering  the  house  of  his  friend  ;  she  seemed 
a  living  testimony  that  he  crossed  the 
threshold  with  a  pure  heart  and  a  pure  eye. 
Yet  he  could  not  suppress  all  anxiety  in  re- 
gard to  his  first  meeting  with  Bella.  She 
came  with  the  Aunt,  as  far  as  the  wood,  to 
meet  them.- 

Bella  embraced  the  Mother,  and  again 
thanked  her  for  having  subjected  herself  to 
the  self-denial  of  letting  Aunt  Claudine  re- 
main with  her.  Extending  her  hand  to 
Eric,  she  said,  with  a  sort  of  chilled 
look :  — 

"You  were  his  first  thought  to-day,  my 
young  friend." 

She  said  nothing  further,  and  did  not 
mention  her  husband's  name. 

Rain  began  to  .fall  before  they  reached 
Wolfsgarten,  and  it  did  not  cease  during 
the  whole 1  day,  so  that  they  were  confined 
in  doors. 

Clodwig  was  remarkably  cheexful  and 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


267 


happy,  and  the  day  passed  off  with  a  joy- 
ousness  that  is  possible  only  to  persons  in 
entire  leisure,  and  perhaps  only  on  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine. 

Roland  was  the  happiest  of  all ;  he  seemed 
to  be  the  life  and  connecting  link  of  the 
company,  looking  up  at  every  one,  as  if  he 
would  ask :  — 

"  Why  are  you  not  as  glad  as  I  am  ?  " 

He  went  from  the  Mother  to  the  Aunt,  from 
her  to  Bella  and  to  Clodwig,  to  and  fro,  as 
if  he  must  let  every  one  know  how  pleasant 
and  home-like  a  circle  he  had  found.  He 
was  in  such  very  good  spirits,  that  at  last 
he  said :  — 

"Ah!  when  sister  Manna  comes  home, 
she  will  see  at  once  that  uncle,  aunt,  grand- 
father and  all  are  here,  just  as  if  they  had 
grown  upon  trees." 

The  inquiry  was  made  where  Pranken 
was. 

They  said  he  had  gone  to  stay  with  an 
agriculturist  devoted  to  the  church,  the 
convent-firmer,  as  he  was  called ;  for  there 
was  nothing,  at  the  present  day,  to  which 
an  ecclesiastical  coloring  and  characteristic 
was  not  given.  Pranken  had  the  good  for- 
tune, by  this  means,  to  be  near  the  convent, 
whose  lands  were  farmed  by  the  agricultu- 
rist. 

They  assembled  in  the  grand  saloon, 
from  which  three  doors  opened  upon  the 
covered  piazza  adorned  with  flowers  and 
hanging-plants,  and  furnished  with  comfort- 
able seats. 

As  they  were  quietly  sitting  and  chatting 
together,  Clodwig  suddenly  raised  his  hand 
as  a  signal  for  them  to  be  silent ;  they  un-  j 
derstood  his  meaning  and  ceased  talking.  \ 
He  had  taken  out  his  watch,  and  now 
said  :  — 

"This  is  the  very  moment  Goethe  was 
born.  I  beg,M  he  added  with  a  kindly 
glance,  "  I  beg  Bella  and  Fräulein  Dour- 
nay   11 

The  ladies  understood  what  he  meant, 
and  seating  themselves  at  the  piano,  played 
Beethoven's  Overture  to  Egmont,  arranged 
as  a  duet. 

Clodwig,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  lis- 
tened with  closed  eyes  ;  the  Professorin  was 
sittyig  near  him,  while  Eric,  holding  Roland 
by  the  hand,  was  upon  the  piazza. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  Overture,  Clod- 
wig informed  them  that  he  had  been  so  for- 
tunate as  to  know  Goethe  personally,  and 
related  a  variety  of  pleasing  anecdotes. 

The  Mother  expressed  her  regret  at  never 
having  heard  the  voice  of  the  exalted  ge- 
nius, nor  looked  him  in  the  eye,  although 
she  was  old  enough,  at  the  time  he  died, 
to  know  what  he  was,  even  if  she  could  not 


fully  comprehend  him.  She  recounted  the 
fact  of  a  man's  coming  to  her  father's  house, 
as  they  were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  and 
informing  them  that  news  of  Goethe's  death 
had  just  been  brought.  An  elderly  lady 
was  so  affected  by  it,  that  she  could  not  sit 
down  with  them  to  dinner. 

In  the  qualified  view  he  then  expressed, 
she  had  gained  an  acquaintance  for  the  first 
time  with  her  husband's  mind ;  for  while 
he  held  Goethe  in  the  highest  veneration, 
he  had  asserted  that  the  Master  had  made- 
poetic  art  too  effeminate,  in  placing  woman 
too  directly  as  the  central  point  of  living 
interests,  and  giving  the  impression  to  men, 
that  poesy  and  an  acquaintance  with  it  were 
the  province  of  woman,  just  as  so  many 
Free-thinkers,  as  they  were  styled,  re- 
garded religion  as  belonging  peculiarly  to 
her. 

Clodwig  opposed  this  view  of  Goethe ; 
he  dwelt  with  special  emphasis  upon  the 
difficulty  experienced  in  our  modern  life, 
which  does  not  admit  of  the  worship  of  ge- 
nius, as  it  is  termed  ;  for  this  worship  could 
be  possible  only  where  a.  pure  manifestation 
of  God,  a  theophany,  was  granted.  When 
limitations  were  placed  to  this,  worship  was 
no  longer  possible. 

It  was  scarcely  noticed  that  Bella,  Clau- 
dine  and  Herr  Sonnenkamp  had  left  the 
saloon,  for  Bella  had  requested  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp that  he  would  give  her  some 
advice  about  the  new  arrangements  of  her 
conservatory. 

And  thus  Clodwig  and  the  Mother  were 
now  left  alone  in  the  saloon,  while  Eric  and 
Roland  were  sitting  in  silence  upon  the 
piazza,  and  listening  to  Clodwig  as  he 
added,  that  the  future  would  no  longer, 
perhaps,  have  any  formal  cultus,  when  there 
was  the  true  consecration  of  the  spirit  in 
actual  life. 

Eric  and  Roland  listened  with  bated 
breath,  as  Clodwig  and  the  Mother  acknowl- 
edged to  each  other  the  influence  which  the 
Master  had  exerted  upon  the  development 
of  their  life  and  the  training  of  their  minds. 
They  thoroughly  discussed  that  work  too 
little  known,  "  Goethe's  Conversations' with 
Eckermann,"  which  brings  us  into  the  living, 
personal  presence  of  the  Master  of  masters. 
Clodwig  represented  that  the  youth  of  to- 
day no  longer  had  the  same  veneration  for 
Goethe ;  and  the  Professorin  informed  him 
that  her  deceased  husband  —  she  quoted 
him  repeatedly  —  had  explained  this  by 
saying,  that  the  youth  of  to-day  regarded 
themselves,  first  of  all,  as  citizens,  and  this 
life  as  a  citizen,  this  active  influence  in  the 
State,  had  not  dawned  upon  Goethe,  and  it 
was  not  his  sphere. 


268 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


They  again  extolled,  as  in  an  alternate 
chant,  the  influence  of  Goethe  in  enriching 
and  in  deepening  their  life. 

Eric  and  Roland  listened  in  silence  ;  once 
only,  Eric  said  in  a  low  tone,  — 

"Note,  Roland,  this  is  glory,  this  is  re- 
nown, this  is  the  noblest  good-fortune,  for 
a  man  to  exert  such  an  influence  that  his 
spirit  always  gives  fresh  inspiration ;  that 
two  persons  shall  sit  in  after  years,  and 
derive  mutual  edification  from  recalling 
what  one  who  is  dead  and  gone  has  been 
the  means  of  establishing." 

Roland  looked  into  the  large,  gleaming 
eyes  of  Eric,  who  could  have  embraced  the 
youth  as  he  said,  — 

"For* once,  I  am  present  at  your  devo- 
tions." 

Again  the  two  in  the  saloon  spoke,  and 
now  Eric  heard  his  name  mentioned,  as  the 
Mother  said,  — 

"Eric  reads  Goethe's  poems  aloud  very 
well." 

He  got  up  at  once,  and  was  ready  to  do 

it. 

Bella,  Aunt  Claudine,  and  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp were  called  in,  and  Eric  read  aloud, 
but  to-day  not  so  well  as  usual,  for  there 
were  many  things  which  might  be  taken  as 
the  embodiment  of  emotions  in  his  own 
heart  and  in  that  of  Bella. 

They  sat  down  to  dinner  in  an  elevated 
frame  of  mind,  as  after  a  religious  service. 

Clodwig  could  not  speak  often  enough  of 
the  good-fortune,  which  had  led  the  son  of 
one  of  the  guests  to  become  the  life-guide 
of  the  son  of  another. 

He  plunged  deeply  into  the  consideration 
that  one  Spirit,  who  presided  over  all,  had 
prepared  and  fitted  the  one  to  impart  the 
highest  he  possessed  to  the  other. 

He  said  very  naturally,  that  Manna  ought 
to  leave  the  convent,  as  no  one  could  aid 
her  to  complete  her  education  more  worth- 
ily than  the  Mother. 

Sonnenkamp  and  the  Mother  looked  at 
each  other  in  amazement,  for  another  was 
expressing  their  own  silent  convictions. 

Sonnenkamp  thanked  Clodwig  very  meek- 
ly for  the  deep  interest  he  felt  in  his  fam- 
ily, and  said  that  a  suggestion  of  Clodwig1  s 
had  to  him  the  weight  of  a  higher  command, 
and  he  hoped  that  the  Professorin  would 
receive  it  as  such.  She  promised  to  under- 
take the  charge,  as  her  only  satisfaction  was 
in  being  useful. 

The  rain  still  continued.  Again  they 
assembled  in  the  grand  saloon,  and  now 
Bella  displayed  her  proficiency  in  arts  that 
no  one  knew  her  to  be  mistress  of.  She 
appeared,  having  a  red  velvet  curtain  draped 
about  her  in  the  Grecian  style,  and  imitated 


|  a  famous  Italian  player  with  wonderful  fidel- 
ity to  the  life.  She  went  out,  and  appeared 
again  as  a  Parisian  grisette ;  then  she  after- 
wards appeared  as  a  Tyrolese  singer,  every 
time  wholly  different,  and  hardly  recogniza- 
ble. 

She  excited  the  most  merriment  when 
she  imitated  in  succession  three  different 
beggar-women,  —  a  Catholic,  a  Protestant, 
}  and  a  Jew.  She  enacted  also,  with  the  same 
applause,  a  scene  in  which  a  Catholic,  a 
Protestant,  and  a  Jewish  woman  came  sepa- 
rately to  the  dentist,  to  have  an  aching 
tooth  extracted.  And  without  degenerat- 
ing into  caricature,  she  took  off  her  ac- 
quaintances, all  with  such  perfect  grace  and 
such  accuracy  of  delineation,  that  words 
failed  to  express  the  admiration. 

Clodwig  said  in  a  low  tone  to  the  Mother : 
"  You  may  well  be  proud  that  she  makes  this 
exhibition  before  you,  for  she  cannot  be 
easily  induced  to  do  it  in  any  one's  pres- 
ence whom  she  does  not  value  highly." 

Sonnenkamp  added  that  it  was  a  magnifi- 
cent but  wasteful  luxury  to  possess  such 
talent,  and  not  to  exhibit  it  to  the  delight 
of  the  whole  world. 

Eric,  meanwhile,  watched  with  a  mixed 
feeling  these  dramatic  representations,  which 
he  could  not  help  admiring.  How  rich  a 
nature  Bella  possessed !  And  how  hard  it 
must  be  for  her  to  circumscribe  her  mani- 
fold activity  within  the  narrow  bo  unds  of  a 
limited  sphere  of  duty  !  But  Bella,  to-day, 
'had  thrown  herself  into  the  various  parts 
with  all  her  energy ;  she  desired  to  have 
every  feeling  and  every  remembrance  ef- 
faced from  her  own  and  from  Eric's  soul. 
Eric  had  this  impression,  but  he  made  no 
remark.  Bella  spoke  to  him  once  only, 
telling  him  that  the  Russian  Prince,  who 
was  staying  with  Weidmann,  wrote  fre- 
quently to  her,  and  desired  to  be  remem- 
bered to  him ;  and  that  he  also  wrote  in  the 
warmest  terms  of  esteem  concerning  Ro- 
land's earlier  tutor-,  Master  Knopf. 

In  the  emphasis  which  she  placed  upon 
the  word  tutor,  Bella  seemed  desirous  of 
setting  up  again  between  her  and  Eric  the 
old  boundary  line  that  had  disappeared. 

Towards  evening  the  rain  held  up,  and 
the  sun  came  out  with  that  inexpressible 
glory  of  coloring  only  to  be  seen  when  the 
mountains  glow,  and  seem  transfigured  with 
its  misty  beams.  They  immediately  set  out 
towards  home. 

The  whole  day  seemed  a  perfect  series  of 
fantastic  forms.  Roland  was  continually 
giving  expression  to  his  astonishment  at  the 
versatility  of  the  Countess ;  but  Sonnen- 
kamp offered  his  hand  to  the  Mother,  say- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


269 


M  If  agreeable  to  you,  we  will  to-morrow 
pay  a  visit  to  my  daughter.'1 

The  Mother  *  nodded  assent.  Sonnen- 
kamp was  highly  pleased ;  he  had  perfect 
confidence  in  the  nobleness  of  her  motives, 
and,  for  awhile,  he  himself  experienced  a 
like  elevation.  It  is  such  a  fine  thing,  and 
people  are  so  happy  in  taking  up  with  things 
of  that  sort,  and  it  always  pays  well,  at  any 
rate,  in  making  one  feel  comfortably. 

But  very  soon  the  consciousness  of  his 
own  triumphant  power  came  uppermost ; 
the  world  subserves  his  plans,  and  it  is  his 
chief  delight  to  make  people  his  tools  and 
playthings,  and  balance  himself  on  their 
shoulders.  And  it  exactly  suited  his  pur- 
pose that  Clodwig  and  the  Professorin  | 
adopted  his  own  secret  plan  ;  they  must  now 
feel  grateful  to  him  for  carrying  out  their 
desires,  at  the  very  time  they  were  of  ser- 
vice to  him,  and  were  helping  him  to  bring 
to  a  successful  issue  his  main  design.  He 
saw  in  this  a  confirmation  of  his  claim  to  be 
a  being  of  a  higher  species,  one  who  dis- 
poses as  he  will  of  others,  and  at  the  same 
time  makes  them  feel  under  obligation  to 
him. 

On  the  evening  of  his  return,  Sonnen- 
kamp ordered  the  gardener  to  place  the 
next  day  Manna's  favorite  flower,  the  migno- 
nette, in  every  part  of  her  room. 

CHAPTER  II. 
AN  ISLAND   PLOUGHED  UP. 

Humility,  respect,  and  helpful  kindness 
were  manifest  in  Sonnenkamp's  whole  de- 
meanor, as  he  extended  his  hand  to  the 
Professorin  on  her  getting  out  of  the  car- 
riage ;  as  he  conducted  her  to  the  steamboat ; 
as  he  looked  out  for  a  seat  protected  from 
the  draught  and  giving  an  uninterrupted 
prospect ;  as  he  supplied  all  her  wants  and 
asked  if  there  was  any  thing  he  could  do  for 
her. 

The  Professorin  was  startled  when  she 
perceived  that  she  had  forgotten  a  book 
which  she  had  laid  upon  the  table,  intend- 
ing to  take  it  with  her,  but  had  left  it  there. 
She  evaded  Sonnenkamp's  question  what 
was  the  name  of  the  book,  for  she  could 
well  imagine,  that  the  writings  of  the  man 
she  held  in  such  high  veneration  would  not 
be  agreeable  to  Sonnenkamp.  She  said  in 
a  joking  way  that  she  had  lived  so  long  in 
the  society  of  the  learned  world,  that  even 
making  a  trip  on  the  Rhine,  in  a  clear, 
bright  sunshine,  she  thought  she  must  have 
a  book  with  her.  She  must  give  herself  up 
wholly  to  the  scenery  and  to  her  own 
thoughts. 

Sonnenkamp  seated  himself  near  her,  and 


said  in  a  tone  of  genuine  emotion,  that  he 
could  not  but  congratulate  his  children,  nay, 
almost  envy  them,  that  they  were  to  live  in 
the  society  of  a  woman  of  such  a  youthful 
spirit. 

The  more  he. talked,  the  tenderer  he  be- 
came, and  his  eyes  glistened  as  if  moistened 
with  tears.  He  frequently  said  that  he 
could  not  speak  of  his  youthful  years,  which 
were  arid  and  desolate,  with  no  gentle  hand 
of  woman  to  soothe  him  with  caresses.  The 
strong  man  was  deeply  moved,  as  he  spoke 
of  his  childhood  in  words  that  partly  veiled 
and  partly  revealed  his  meaning.  At  last  he 
came  to  the  main  point,  composing  himself 
by  a  violent  effort.  The  Professorin  felt 
that  she  must  first  inquire  into  the  reason 
why  Manna  had  became  so  alienated  from 
him.  Bending  down  his  head,  he  proceeded 
to  say  :  — 

"  They  may  have  told  her  something  that 
I  disdained  to  contradict.  Were  you,  hon- 
ored lady,  to  know  what  it  was,  you  would 
without  hesitation  pronounce  it  to  be  a 
falsehood  devised  by  the  most  malignant 
hostility." 

The  Professorin  desired  to  know  what 
was  said,  but  he  replied  that  if  he  should 
repeat  it,  he  should  run  mad  here  on  board 
the  boat.  His  features,  that  had  been  com- 
posed and.  placid,  were  suddenly  distorted 
in  a  fearful  manner. 

The  Professorin  now  dwelt  upon  the  visit 
that  she  was  going  to  make  to  the  Superior, 
the  friend  of  her  youth,  and  begged  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  to  avoid  all  direct  endeavor 
to  influence  his  daughter  in  favor  of  herself. 

"  Children,"  she  said,  "  must  make  their 
own  friends,  and  they  cannot  receive  them 
ready  made  from  others.  One  must  be 
careful  not  to  intrude  one's  self  upon  them, 
and  to  wait  quietly  and  patiently,  until  they 
come  of  their  own  accord." 

Sonnenkamp  considered  this  so  judicious, 
that  he  promised  not  to  go  with  her,  in  the 
first  instance,  to  the  island,  but  to^  remain 
at  the  inn  on  this  side  of  the  river  until  the 
Professorin  should  send  for  him. 

"  You  are  as  good  as  you  are  wise,"  he 
said  praisingly,  for  he  detected  as  he  thought 
in  the  lady's  unobtrusiveness  a  politic  mo- 
tive ;  and  he  was  pleased  in  the  notion  of 
circumventing  all  cunning  with  a  deeper 
cunning  still. 

While  Sonnenkamp  and  the  Mother  were 
sailing  down  the  Rhine,  a  strange  circum- 
stance occurred  on  the  convent-island.  From 
one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other,  no  horse 
was  to  be  seen  upon  the  island,  except 
when  the  ground  was  ploughed.  The 
pupils  in  amazement  pointed  out  to  each 
other  a  plough,  which  a  horse  was  draw- 


270 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ing  up  and  down  the  extreme  point  of 
the  island.  A  noble-looking  farmer  in  a 
blue  blouse,  and  with  a  gray  hat  drawn 
down  over  his  eyes,  was  guiding  the  plough. 
The  children  stood  at  a  distance  watching 
the  plough,  as  if  it  were  some  novel  won- 
der, and  looked  at  Manna  for  permission  to 
go  nearer  in  order  to  observe  it.  She  nod- 
ded permission,  and  they  walked  along  the 
gravelled  walk  by  the  side  of  the  field. 
Then  the  ploughman,  taking  off  his  hat, 
made  a  salutation ;  Manna  remained  stand- 
ing with  a  fixed  look  as  if  she  were  under  a 
spell.  Is  that  not  Herr  von  Pranken  ?  He 
continued  his  ploughing  and  said  nothing. 
As  he  turned  the  plough,  to  come  back,  he 
looked  towards  her  and  smiled ;  it  was  he. 

"He's  a  splendid-looking  ploughman,1' 
said  one  of  the  girls. 

"And  he  seems  so  genteel,"  exclaimed 
another. 

"  And  he  has  a  seal  ring  on  his  finger," 
cried  a  third.  "Who  knows  that  this  is 
not  a  knight  in  disguise !  " 

Manna  called  to  the  children  to  return 
with  her.  She  went  into  her  cell,  from 
which  the  field  could  be  overlooked,  but  she 
kept  away  from  the  window.  She  felt  flat- 
tered that  Pranken  should  subject  himself  to 
the  most  humble  condition,  in  order  to  be 
near  her,  and  she  felt  grateful  to  him  for 
being  so  modest  and  considerate  as  not  to 
speak  to  her.  She  debated  with  herself 
whether  she  should  not  mention  it  to  the 
Superior,  but  she  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  she  had  no  right  to  betray  Herr  von 
Pranken's  secret ;  besides,  so  far  from  there 
being  any  harm  in  it,  it  was  the  noblest 
tribute  of  respect. 

Going  to  the  window,  she  saw  that  he 
kept  steadily  at  his  work,  and  he  had  never 
seemed  to  her  so  pure  and  noble,  so  lova- 
ble as  now,  engaged  in  this  rustic  labor. 

On  the  window-sill  was  a  rose-bush  with 
a  late  rose  in  full  bloom.  Looking  up  she 
caught  sjght  of  it,  and  took  hold  of  the  stem, 
thinking  she  would  pluck  and  throw  it  to 
him  as  a  sign  of  recognition  ;  but  just  then, 
a  lay-sister  came  in  and  informed  her  that  a 
visitor  had  come  who  as.ked  to  see  Manna. 
The  rose  remained  on  its  stem. 

Manna  turned  round  and  seemed  per- 
plexed. Pranken  is  still  there  ploughing. 
Could  he  be  the  one  who  was  announced  ? 
or  has  the  Countess  Bella  arrived  ?  With 
wavering  step  she  descended  to  the  recep- 
tion-room. The  Superior  introduced  to  her 
a  good-looking,  portly  lady,  saying :  — 

"  This  is  my  friend,  Professorin  Dournay, 
the  mother  of  your  brother's  teacher." 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  OUT  OF  THE  WORLD,  AND  OUT  IN  THE 
WORLD.  " 

The  first  feeling  was  surprise,  the  sec- 
ond, quiet  confidence,  as  the  eyes  of  the 
Professorin  and  Manna  met ;  each  found  the 
other  different  from  the  preconceived  im- 
age. 

Manna  remembered  Eric's  tall  figure,  and 
his  resemblance  to  the  picture  of  St.  An- 
thony, and  before  her  stood  a  short,  fair, 
gray-haired  woman.  Frau  Dournay  had 
pictured  to  herself  Roland's  handsome  sistei 
as  like  him,  and  now  she  saw  a  slender,  del- 
icate creature,  who,  at  first  sight,  gave  no 
impression  of  beauty.  A  mole  on  her  left 
cheek,  and  one  on  the  right  side  of  her  up- 
per lip,  were  quite  conspicuous ;  her  com- 
plexion was  rather  dark,  and  her  wonderful 
brown  eyes  glowed  with  deep  and  quiet 
warmth  upon  every  one  who  looked  into 
them. 

Manna  bowed  ceremoniously  to  the  Pro- 
fessorin, who  rose  and  held  out  her  hand 
with  maternal  kindness,  saying  that  she  was 
very  glad  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
daughter  of  her  host, while  paying  a  visit  to 
her  friend,  the  Superior;  and  she  added, 
with  special  emphasis,  that  she  had  been  so 
fortunate  as  to  become  quite  intimate  with 
Manna's  mother. 

"Is  my  mother  well?"  asked  Manna, 
with  a  sweet  tone  of  warmth  in  her  low  and 
quiet  voice.  The  Professorin  told  her  of 
her  mother's  health,  and  added  that^  the 
doctor  said  he  had  never  known  her  so  con- 
stantly cheerful  as  now. 

"  Now,  I  have  a  request  to  make,"  she 
continued  in  an  animated  tone;  "since  I 
have  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  your  pa- 
rents' guest,  I  have  insisted  that  the  daily 
course  of  your  brother's  studies  should  not 
be  in  the  least  interfered  with,  and  now  let 
me  beg  you,  my  dear  young  lady,  to  go  on 
with  your  usual  occupations.  I  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  dining  with  you,  and  after 
dinner,  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  you  will  spare 
me  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"If  you  have  any  private  message  for 
Manna,"  said  the  Superior,  "  I  will  leave 
you  together." 

"  I  have  not  any  private  message." 

Manna  gave  the  Professorin  her  hand, 
and  left  the  room.  She  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  it  all ;  Avhy  had  she  been  sum- 
moned when  there  was  so  little  to  be  said 
to  her?  It  offended  her  a  little  to  be  so 
pushed  about  by  a  stranger  —  for  the  lady 
was  a  stranger.  But  as  she  walked  through 
the  long  passage,  she  still  saw  before  her 
the  sincere  and  gentle  countenance  of  the 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


271 


stranger,  smiling  at  her  as  if  saying,  You 
are  a  strange  child ! 

Manna  returned  thoughtfully  to  her  «eil ; 
she  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw  Prank- 
en  just  entering  a  boat  with  his  horse,  and 
he  was  soon  on  the  opposite  shore. 

"  Ah,  Herr  von  Pranken  !  "  cried  a  loud 
voice,  and  the  echo  repeated  the  sound. 

What  voice  was  that  ? 

Pranken  hurried  up  the  bank  and  van- 
ished behind  the  willows. 

Manna  longed  for  the  time  when  the 
world  would  be  shut  out  from  her.  and  no 
more  unrest  could  come  over  her,  for  now 
she  was  deeply  disturbed.  There  was 
Pranken  ;  here,  the  tutor's  mother  —  what 
did  it  all  mean  ?  She  took  her  book  of  de- 
votions, but  could  not  succeed  in  drawing 
her  thoughts  from  the  subjects  which  oc- 
cupied them. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  Professorin  was 
listening  to  the  Superior's  account  of  Man- 
na's strange  nature,  which  seemed  really  to 
hold  two  natures  within  it,  one,  humble 
and  submissive,  almost  without  a  will  of  its 
own  ;  the  other,  struggling,  defiant,  and  self- 
willed.  She  had  a  true,  earnest  character, 
too  serious,  perhaps,  for  a  girl  of  seventeen  ; 
she  was  often  unable  to  hold  her  feelings 
under  control,  but  who  could  always  do  that 
at  her  age  ?  A  weight  lay  on  her  spirits  which 
was  uncontrollable  ;  it  plainly  had  its  source 
in  the  child's  keen  sense  of  the  discord  be- 
tween her  parents  and  its  influence  upon 
herself.  The  Superior  asked  Frau  Dournay 
to  tell  her  more  of  the  characteristic  pecu- 
liarities of  the  parents,  but  she  evaded  the 
subject. 

The  appearance,  as  well  as  the  bearing, 
of  the  two  ladies  offered  a  sharp  contrast. 
The  Professorin's  figure  was  full,  and  in  her 
face  there  was  a  constant  expression  of  wide- 
awake animation  ;  her  hands  were  round  and 
plump ;  the  Superior  was  tall  and  thin,  her 
expression  severe  and  earnest,  as  if  just  a 
moment  before  she  had  given  some  positive 
order,  or  was  on  the  point  of  giving  one ; 
her  hands  were  long  and  perfectly  shaped. 
Both  women  had  experienced  hard  trials  : 
the  Professorin  had  won  a  gentle,  smiling 
content ;  the  Superior,  a  complete  prepara- 
tion to  meet  all  events  with  firm  and  stoical 
endurance. 

The  first  greeting  between  these  early 
friends,  after  nearly  thirty  years  of  separa- 
tion, had  been  a  strange  one,  the  Superior 
not  hearing,  or  seeming  not  to  hear,  that 
Frau  Dournay  addressed  her  just  as  she  had 
in  the  old  days. 

"  I  did  not  think  I  should  ever  see  you 
again  in  this  world,"  she  had  said  directly, 
and  when  the  Professorin  tried  to  recall  re- 


miniscences of  their  youth,  she  had  re- 
plied that  she  knew  the  past  no  longer ;  she 
had  destroyed  all  its  mementoes,  and  rec- 
ognized only  a  future,  the  sole  object  that 
ought  to  occupy  our  thoughts. 

The  Superior  noticed  that  this  distant 
manner  of  speaking  startled  her  old  friend, 
and  she  said,  with  the  same  composure,  that 
she  made  no  distinction  among  the  relations 
and  acquaintances  of  her  early  life  ;  no  one 
was  nearer  to  her  or  farther  from  her,  and 
that  any  one  who  could  not  attain  this  state 
ought  not  to  devote  herself  to  a  spiritual 
life. 

The  Professorin  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
turned  off  and  shown  out  of  the  house,  but 
she  was  calm  enough  to  say  :  — 

"  Yes,  you  always  had  a  strength  of  mind 
which  used  to  frighten  me,  but  now  I  ad- 
mire it." 

The  Superior  smiled ;  then,  as  if  angry 
at  having  been  betrayed  into  any  self-satis- 
faction by  this  civil  speech,  she  said,  — 

"  Dear  Clara,  I  beg  you  not  to  tempt  me 
into  vanity.  I  stand  at  my  post,  and  have 
a  strict  watch  to  keep,  until  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  shall  call  me  to  himself.  Formerly, 
I  must  confess,  I  did  not  realize  that  you 
and  I  lived  in  different  worlds  ;  in  mine,  it 
is  one's  duty  not  to  rely  on  one's  own 
strength." 

With  all  this  self-denial,  it  seemed  to  the 
Professorin  that  the  Superior  spoke  of  the 
power  and  the  greatness  of  the  sphere  in 
which  she  moved,  with  that  pride,  or  at 
least  with  that  lofty  self-confidence,  shown 
by  all  who  belong  to  a  great  and  powerful 
community.  To  the  Superior,  on  the  other 
hand,  she  seemed  like  an  isolated,  detached 
atom,  floating  it  knew  not  whither. 

They  soon  found,  however,  a  point  on 
which  they  could  sympathize,  in  speaking 
of  the  difficult  task  of  educating  the  young. 

The  Superior  was  rich  in  experience, 
while  the  Professorin  depended  almost  en- 
tirely on  the  precepts  and  opinions  of  her 
departed  husband ;  and  now  that  she  took 
the  attitude  of  a  scholar,  and  listened  grate- 
fully, gentler  thoughts  rose  within  the 
Superior,  who  had  felt  that  she  had  been 
somewhat  harsh  towards  the  excellent  wo- 
man ;  and  in  this  mood,  she  imparted  some 
things  that  she  really  meant  to  hold  back. 
She  told  Frau  Dournay  that,  at  first, 
Manna's  position  in  the  convent  had  been  a 
very  hard  one,  for  a  strange  thing  had  hap- 
pened. Her  entrance  into  the  convent 
seemed  to  bring  about  a  revolution.  Two 
Americans  from  the  best  families  were  then 
there,  and  they  were  not  willing  to  sit  at 
the  same  table  with  the  Creole,  for  such 
Manna  seemed ;  they  told  their  fellow-pu- 


272 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


pils  that,  in  their  native  country,  such  half- 
bloods  always  travelled  in  separate  cars  on 
the  railroads,  and,  even  in  church,  had 
places  set.  apart  lor  them.  And  as  most  of 
the  children  were  from  noble  German  fam- 
ilies, they  united  in  a  protest  against  Man- 
na's presence,  without  her  knowing  anything 
of  it  herself.  While  she  slept,  three  of 
the  pupils  had  examined  her  nails,  in  the 
presence  of  a  nun,  and  as  no  black  spots 
were  found  on  them,  it  was  proved  that 
both  parents  were  of  pure  blood.  Manna 
was  tolerated,  and  soon  succeeded  in  win- 
ning the  blue  ribbon  by  her  quick  mind  and 
great  industry. 

The  Professorin  held  back  the  words  which 
rose  to  her  lips,  for  she  was  resolved  to  keep 
quiet  and  arouse  no  discussion ;  but  her 
lips  trembled  as  she  longed  to  tell  the 
Superior  that  it  was  her  duty  to  have  shown 
the  children,  by  precept  and  example,  that 
there  can  be  no  distinction  of  blood  before 
God,  and  that  such  exclusiveness  was  im- 
pious and  barbarous. 

Frau  Dournay  had  to  exercise  still  more 
self-control  when  the  Superior  asked  her  to 
be  kind  enough  to  fold  her  hands  when 
grace  was  said  at  dinner.  The  color 
liushed  into  her  face,  as  she  listened,  and 
answered,  — 

"  My  husband  is  gone  to  his  eternal 
home,  and  I  know  that  when  he  stands  be- 
fore the  judgment-seat  the  Holy  Spirit  will 
say  to  him :  Thou  hast  lived  according  to 
the  purest  convictions  of  thy  soul ;  thou 
hast  honestly  examined  thyself,  and  hast 
attempted  and  done  only  what  thou  couldst 
do  in  all  sincerity.  At  our  table,  we  had 
no  formal  prayer,  but  before  we  sat  down 
to  eat  and  drink,  each  of  us  spent  a  minute 
in  silent  self-communion,  and  in  the  thought 
of  what  it  really  is  to  renew  our  existence 
from  the  Fountain  of  life ;  and  our  meal 
was  consecrated  by  pure  and  good 
thoughts." 

"  Well,  well,  I  did  not  mean  to  wound 
you,"  said  the  Superior.  "I  heard  with* 
sympathy  that  you  had  lost  your  husband, 
for  whose  sake  you  sacrificed  yourself  so 
nobly  and  gladly.11 

"  I  was  happy  with  my  husband,"  replied 
the  Professorin;  "  our  love  grew  stronger 
every  day.  -But  love  for  a  lover  or  a  hus- 
band is  always  dwelt  on ;  there  is  another 
kind  of  love,  which,  though  very  different, 
is  wonderfully  fresh  and  noble,  and  I  think 
I  know  it.  Forgive  me  for  saying  it,  but  I 
mean  that  it  seems  as  if  love  only  rightly 
begins  when  one  has  a  high-minded,  excel- 
lent son." 

"Iara  glad  that  you  are  so  happy ;  but 
tell  me  sincerely  whether  you  have  not 


found  that  of  ten  married  women,  nine,  at 
least,  are  unhappy." 

The  Professorin  was  silent,  and  the 
Superior  continued,  — 

"  Your  silence  is  assent,  and  now  look 
at  the  great  difference ;  among  a  hundred 
nuns  you  find  scarcely  one  unhappy  one." 

Frau  Dournay  was  still  silent ;  she  did 
not  wish  to  debate  this  assertion :  she  was  a 
guest,  and  would  not  try  to  convert  or  cor- 
rect ;  but  the  Superior  seemed  to  try  to 
draw  her  out  as  she  asked,  — 

"  Do  you  know  a  more  unhappy  position 
than  that  of  a  girl  who  knows  herself,  and 
whom  others  know,  to  be  the  heiress  'Of 
millions  ?  Is  she  to  believe  in  the  love  of 
frail  human  creatures  ?  Is  she  to  believe 
that  she  is  wooed  for  her  own  sake  ?  There 
is  nothing  for  her,  but  to  give  herself  and 
her  wealth  into  the  hands  of  the  Eternal. 
This  I  say  to  you  —  I  know  not  what  com- 
mission you  have,  and  even  if  you  have 
none,  you  can  report  it*  We  do  not  try  to 
gain  Manna  and  her  future  wealth,  we  in- 
sist that  she  shall  go  back  into  the  world, 
and  return  to  us  only  on  her  own  free 
decision.  There  is  neither  compulsion  nor 
intimidation  on  our  part,  but  it  is  our  duty 
to  protect  those  who  prefer  the  imperishable 
to  the  perishable,  wherever  they  may  be. 
Now  you  know  all,  and  we  will  say  no  more 
on  the  subject." 

The  Superior  left  her,  and  Frau  Dournay 
walked  out  alone  upon  the  island.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  it  would  be  a  bold  act, 
one  of  unjustifiable  rashness  indeed^  to 
take  this  child  by  force,  even  the  force  of 
affection,  from  this  sphere  where  she  lived 
at  peace  and  wished  to  end  her  life.  She 
stood  on  the  shore,  and  almost  without 
knowing  why,  allowed  herself  to  be  taken 
across  to  the  main-land,  where  she  was  not 
a  little  astonished  to  find  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
and  Herr  von  Pranken,  taking  wine  to- 
gether, under  the  shady  lindens  of  the 
inn. 

Pranken  was  dressed  so  strangely  that 
she  thought  she  was  mistaken,  and  she  was 
about  to  turn  back  ;  but  she  heard  her  name 
called,  and  approached  the  two  men  in  the 
garden. 

Sonnenkamp  was  in  high  spirits,  declar- 
ing himself  very  fortunate  to  have  met  his 
friend  Pranken  here;  he  considered  it  a 
fine  thing  that  the  Baron  had  changed  him- 
self into  a  husbandman,  hinting  that  he 
himself  had  once  been  something  of  the 
kind ;  then  he  said,  — 

"We  have  no  secrets  from  our  friend; 
will  Manna  go  home  with  us,  Frau  Profes- 
sorin ?  " 

The  Professorin  replied  that  not  a  word 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  KHINE. 


273 


had  been  said  on  the  subject,  and  that  it 
seemed  hardly  to  be  wished ;  it  would  be 
well  to  let  Manna  complete  her  time  at  the 
convent,  and  certainly  to  refrain  from  all 
compulsion. 

Pranken  agreed  very  emphatically,  but 
Sonnenkamp  was  much  put  out ;  it  seemed 
to  him  dreadful  that  his  daughter  should  be 
living  here  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  other 
girls,  when  a  free  and  happy  life  was  wait- 
ing for  her. 

The  noon-day  bell  rang  from  the  Convent, 
and  Frau  Dournay  said  she  must  go  back. 
Sonnenkamp  accompanied  her  to  the  shore, 
and  there  said  in  a  low  voice  :  — 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  Pranken. 
We  will  leave  my  daughter  free  in  every 
respect." 

The  Professorin  returned  to  the  island ; 
the  children  were  already  at  table  when  she 
entered  the  dining-room ;  she  stood  with 
folded  hands  behind  her  chair  for  a  few 
moments  before  seating  herself.  When 
dinner  was  over,  and  thanks  had  been  re- 
turned, the  Superior  said  to  Manna,  — 

"  Now  go  with  the  friend  of  your  family." 

Frau  Dournay  and  Manna  walked  towards 
the  shady  grove  on  the  upper  end#of  the 
island  ;  and  Heimchen,  who  was  quite  con- 
fiding towards  the  Professorin,  went  with 
them ;  but  she  was  quite  willing  to  sit  down 
with  a  book,  under  a  tree,  and  wait  till  they 
came  back  for  her. 

"But  you  must  not  take  Manna  away 
with  you,"  cried  the  child  from  her  low  seat ; 
they  both  started,  for  the  child  had  given 
utterance,  from  an  instinctive  feeling,  to 
the  fear  of  cfhe  and  the  hope  of  the  other. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  IRON  MUST  ENTER  THINE  OWN  SOUL. 

For  a  long  time  neither  uttered  a  word  ; 
at  last  the  Professorin  said,  — 

"  You  seem  to  be  called  to  a  higher  life, 
from  having  been  obliged  in  early  youth  to 
suffer  so  hard  an  experience,  and  to  feel 
deeply  the  discord  among  men." 

« '  I?  How  ?  "  asked  Manna.  "  What  do 
you  know  ?  11    She  trembled. 

"  I  know,"  answered  the  Professorin, 
"that  you  have  suffered  under  that  cruel 
burden  which  weighs  upon  your  great  and 
noble  father-land." 

"  My  father-land  ?  I?  Speak  more  plain- 
ly." 

"  It  pains  me  that  I  tear  open  a  wound 
which  is  scarred  over,  but  this  scar  is  a 
mark  of  honor  for  you,  and  it  is  not  your 
fault,  my  child,  that  you  are  set  in  the  midst 
of  this  life-struggle." 


"Yes." 

"How?  Tell  me  all;  what  do  you 
■know  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  it  should  elevate  you  to 
have  been  obliged  to  bear  humiliation  and 
bitterness  in  your  own  person ;  it  gives  you 
a  loftier  consecration." 

"  Tell  me  plainly  what  you  mean." 
With  an  altered  tone,  like  the  hiss  of  a 
serpent,  Manna  spoke  sharply  and  angrily  ; 
her  gentle  eyes  sparkled  restlessly. 

"Heaven  knows,"  said  the  Professorin, 
"  I  would  not  wound  you;  no,  protecting 
and  blessing  you,  would  I  lay  my  hand  upon 
you." 

She  tried  to  place  her  hand  on  Manna's 
head,  but  the  girl  shrank  back  and  cried:  — 
"Tell  me  distinctly,   who   knows  it? 
What  do  you  know  ?    Pray  speak." 

"  I  know  nothing,  except  that  you  had  to 
suffer  severely  on  your  entrance  into  the 
convent ;  that  two  American  girls  took  you 
for  a  half-blood,  and  would  not  associate 
with  you."1  1 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  it !  Now  I  know  why 
they  examined  my  nails,  and  Anna  Sot  way 
stood  by.  Oh,  it's  well !  it's  well !  I  thank 
thee,  holy  God,  that  thou  hast  suffered  me 
to  experience  this.  In  myself,  in  my  own 
person,  I  was  to  feel  the  suffering  that  a 
slave  feels  in  being  examined !  Why  did 
they  not  open  my  veins  ?  I  thank  thee,  O 
God !  But  why  dost  thou  suffer  them  to 
worship  thee,  and  then  to  scorn  thee  in  thy 
creatures  ?  Then  it  was  not  because  I  tried 
to  be  reverent  and  obedient,  no,  but  be- 
cause I  was  of  pure  blood,  that  I  was  toler- 
ated here  !   Pah  !  " 

It  was  a  different  being  who  spoke  these 
words,  and  cried  aloud  in  the  wood  :  — 

"Ye  trees,  why  does  each  of  you  grow 
after  its  kind,  and  blossom  and  grow  green 
and  flourish,  warmed  by  the  same  sun,  and 
with  the  birds  singing  in  your  branches  ? 
Alas  !  alas  !  where  ami?" 

"In  the  right  path,"  answered  the  Pro- 
fessorin. Manna  gazed  at  her  as  if  she 
were  a  spirit,  and  she  continued  :  — 

"  A  pure  spirit  is  speaking  again  through 
you,  my  child ;  you  have  spoken  truth. 
.When  Lessing  said,  '  I  would  not  have  all 
trees  covered  with  the  same  bark,'  he  had 
no  presentiment  that  his  spirit  would  mani- 
fest itself  anew  here  in  the  cloister,  in  a  child 
just  waking  to  life.  His  pure  and  holy 
spirit  is  between  us  now,  my  child,  and  I 
think  Lessing  would  say :  Forgive  them ; 
they  will  learn  that  God  alone  is  constant, 
while  the  races  of  men  are  only  the  ever- 
varying,  ever-returning  figures  of  a  dream." 

Manna  appeared  hardly  to  have  heard 
her,  for  now  she  grasped  her  arm  asking :  — 


274 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"Did  you  not  tell  me,  that  you  were 
specially  in  the  confidence  of  my  mother  ?  " 
"Yes." 

14  And  has  she  told  you  the  secret  too?  " 

14  I  do  not  understand  you." 

44  Speak  openly  with  me.    I  know  all." 

44  Your  mother  has  told  me  no  secret." 

Manna  seized  the  cross  on  her  breast 
convulsively,  and  gazed  silently  before  her 
for  a  long  time. 

With  heart-felt  earnestness,  the  Profes- 
sorin expressed  her  deep  regret  at  having 
moved  her  so  greatly,  and  her  desire  not  to 
force  herself  upon  her,  but  to  be  her  true 
friend. 

Manna  made  no  answer.  At  last  she 
turned  and  kissed  the  lips  of  her  startled 
companion. 

"I  kiss  the  lips  which  have  spoken  the 
dreadful  words,  and  all  the  rest.  Yes,  I 
must  experience  it,  I,  myself.  I  believe 
that  I  am  now  first  consecrated  as  the  sacri- 
fice." 

The  Mother  stood  helpless  before  this 
enigmatical  being,  and  Manna  at  last 
promised  to  be  quite  calm.  She  seated  her- 
self on  a  bench  which  stood  under  a  fir-tree, 
leaned  back  against  the  tree,  and  gazed  up 
at  the  sky. 

44  Why,"  she  said  to  herself,  44  does  there 
now  come  no  voice  to  us  from  the  air? 
Ah,  I  would  so  gladly  follow  it  forth  over 
mountain  and  valley,  to  darkness  and 
death." 

Manna  wept ;  the  Professorin  reminded 
her  of  her  promise  to  be  quite  calm,  but 
the  girl  declared  she  could  not,  it  grieved 
her  so  to  be  torn  from  this  place,  which  she 
must  leave,  since  she  could  not  be  true  in  it. 
She  would  be  living  falsely,  because  people 
had  not  been  true  to  her. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  the  Professorin 
understood  that  Manna  had  known  nothing 
of  what  had  passed,  and  she  shuddered  at 
what  she  had  done.  She  mourned  over 
having  so  disturbed  Manna's  young  soul, 
saying  that  she  could  never  forgive  herself. 
And  now  Manna  turned,  and  tried  to  calm 
and  console  her  unhappy  companion. 

44  Believe  me,  pray  believe  me,"  she  cried, 
holding  up  her  clasped  hands,  44  only  the 
truth  can  make  us  free,  and  that  is  the 
dreadful  thing,  that  the  park,  and  the 
house,  and  all  the  splendor  are  lies  —  No, 
that  I  did  not  mean  —  but  one  thing  I  beg, 
do  not  repent,  when  you  have  left  me,  that 
you  told  me  what  you  did  ;  it  does  not  hurt 
me,  it  helps  me.  Ah,  I  beg  —  it  helps  me. 
I  had  to  know  it,  and  it  is  well." 

The  Professorin  composed  herself,  and  as 
she  praised  Manna's  truthful  impulses,  the 
girl  shook  her  head,  saying :  — 


44 1  will  not  be  praised,  I  do  not  deserve 
it ;  I  do  not  deserve  the  whole  truth,  for  I 
am  hiding  something  myself." 

The  Professorin  felt  what  a  heavy  weight 
she  had  brought  upon  the  child,  and  she  ex- 
plained to  her  how  the  Superior  had  cured 
her  troubles,  like  a  physician  who  does  not 
tell  his  patient  all.  Manna  gazed  wonder- 
ingly  at  her,  as  she  said  :  — 

"lam  sorry  that  I  too  have  not  been 
quite  sincere  with  you." 

"  You  too  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have  not  told  you  that  your 
father  came  here  with  me ;  that  he  is  wait- 
ing for  my  return  on  the  other  shore,  and 
hoping  that  you  will  go  home  with  us." 

Manna  rose  and  sat  down  again  hastily. 
44  The  father  hides  from  his  child  and  sends 
strangers ! "  she  murmured  to  herself. 
44  Come  with  me  to  the  Superior,"  she  sud- 
denly exclaimed. 

She  seized  the  Professorin's  hand,  and 
drew  her  towards  the  convent.  Heimchen 
came  towards  them,  crying :  — 

"No,  Manna,  you  must  not  go  away 
and  leave  me  here  alone." 

"Come  with  us,"  answered  Manna,  tak- 
ing the  child  by  the  hand. 

She  went  to  the  Superior  and  asked  per- 
mission to  go  with  Frau  Dournay  to  her 
father,  who  was  waiting  for  her  on  the 
main-land. 

44  Send  for  him  to  come  here." 

44  No,  I  would  rather  go  to  him." 

Permission  was  granted.  It  was  difficult 
for  Manna  to  free  herself  from  Heimchen, 
who  could  be  pacified  only  by  Manna's  sol- 
emn promise  to  return.  • 

Manna  sat  gazing  into  the  water  while 
they  were  in  the  boat.  With  Frau  Dour- 
nay,  she  entered  the  garden  of  the  inn, 
where  they  found  Sonnenkamp  and  Pran- 
ken sitting  in  the  shade  of  the  arbor. 

' '  You  are  going  home  with  us  ?  "  cried 
Sonnenkamp  to  his  daughter. 

She  received  his  embrace,  but  did  not 
return  it.  Pranken  greeted  Manna  joy- 
fully, and  as  she  extended  her  hand  to  him, 
said  smiling :  — 

44 1  have  hardened  my  hand,  but  my  heart 
is  still  soft,  perhaps  too  soft." 

Manna  cast  down  her  eyes.  There  was 
some  merry  jesting  about  the  manner  in 
which  Pranken  had  settled  himself  here  in 
the  neighborhood.  He  described  pleasantly 
how  his  new  life 'struck  him;  there  was  a 
fresh  vigor  in  his  bearing,  and  a  tone  of 
warm  feeling  in  all  his  words.  He  saw  with 
satisfaction  what  impression  his  deportment 
made  upon  Manna,  who  said,  at  last,  that 
she  believed  she  might  speak  openly  before 
this  gentleman  and  lady,  who  were  not 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


275 


really  strangers  though  not  members  of  her 
own  family.  She  was  not  yet  quite,  re- 
solved, but  she  felt  a  real  lodging  to  leave 
the  convent  very  soon,  or  still  better,  not 
to  return  to  it  again,  letting  her  father  or 
the  Professorin  go  over  to  say  good-bye  for 
her. 

"Maya  friend  say  a  word  about  it?" 
asked  Pranken,  as  Sonnenkamp  loudly  ex- 
pressed his  joy. 

Manna  begged  him  to  speak,  and  he  ex- 
plained that,  as  a  friend,  he  would  urge 
Manna  to  act  properly  and  worthily ;  what- 
ever might  have  passed,  it  was  Manna's 
duty  not  to  break  too  abruptly  the  close 
and  holy  ties  which  had  united  her  with  the 
convent,  and,  above  all,  with  the  Superior; 
hardness  and  ingratitude  towards  others 
left  a  weight  and  bitterness  in  the  soul.  He 
must  believe,  that,  as  Manna  had  entered 
the  convent  from  her  own  wish  and  a  pure 
resolve,  she  would  leave  it  in  all  kindness 
and  friendly  feeling.  It  seemed  to  him  the 
right  course  that  Manna  should  return  for  a 
short  time,  to  take  leave  of  her  companions 
and  the  holy  sisterhood  quietly  and  consid- 
erately. He  repeated,  that  though  he  de- 
sired nothing  more  earnestly  than  to  have 
Manna  return  to  the  outer  world  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  as  fully  as  possible,  still  he 
considered  it  the  duty  of  a  friend  to  save 
from  remorse  and  inward  disquiet  one  to 
whom  he  stood  in.,any  near  relation.  There 
was  more  than  excellence,  there  was  a  real 
nobility,  in  Pranken's  manner  as  he  said  all 
this,  and  various  were  the  looks  and 
thoughts  of  the  three  who  were  watching 
him. 

Sonnenkamp  was  angry,  and  yet  he  said 
to  himself:  "After  all,  aristocratic  blood 
knows  what's  the  proper  thing.11 

The  Professorin  believed  that  Pranken 
meant  to  win  Manna  anew  by  these  noble 
sentiments  ;  Manna  herself  was  quite  sub- 
dued. 

"You  are  right,11  she  exclaimed,  as  she 
extended  her  hand  and  held  Pranken's 
firmly.  ,  "You  show  me  what  is  right.  I 
thank  you,  and  will  follow  your  advice." 

Sorinenkamp  was  beside  himself  as  he 
saw  his  dearest  wish  again  disappointed ; 
but  still  greater  was  his  astonishment,  when 
the  Professorin  expressed  her  acquiescence. 

After  Manna  had  begged  Pranken  to 
avoid  any  meeting  with  her  until  she  re- 
turned home,  they  all  walked  down  to  the 
shore,  and  the  two  ladies  returned  to  the 
island. 

Heimchen,  who  had  wept  constantly,  had 
already  been  put  to  bed,  and  was  still 
mourning  that  Manna  had  gone.  Manna 
went  to  her'and  found  her  crying,  and  her 


pillow  wet  with  tears ;  she  dried  her  eyes 
and  talked  to  her  till  she  went  to  sleep ;  and 
while  pacifying  her,  and  promising  all  sorts 
of  good  things,  she  became  calmer  herself. 

CHAPTER  V. 
NIGHT  AND  MORNING  AT  THE  CONVENT. 

Until  it  was  quite  late,  Manna  walked  up 
and  down  the  broad  pathway  on  the  island, 
holding  the  Superior  and  the  Professorin  by 
the  hand.  It  seemed  to  her,  that  two  loving 
potencies,  each  of  which  had  its  own  valid 
claim,  were  contending  to  get  possession  of 
her. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  how  they  came 
upon  the  topic,  but  the  two  ladies  were  dis- 
cussing the  subject  of*dogmatic  belief.  The 
Professorin  maintained  that  salvability  con- 
sisted in  a  willingness  to  perceive  and  ac- 
knowledge a  wrong  impulse,  an  error,  or  a 
transgression.  The  Superior  agreed  with 
this,  but  showed  that  one  was  always  liable 
to  return  to  a  false  view  in  the  highest 
things,  if  a  fixed  and  unalterable  revealed 
doctrine,  continually  published  anew  through 
some  infallible  medium,  did  not  provide  a 
remedy  against  error ;  otherwise,  one  never 
knew  whether  he  had  not  fallen  into  it  afresh, 
and  can  never  be  freed  from  the  pain  of 
choosing. 

The  Superior  had  always  a  positive  belief 
to  fall  back  upon,  while  the  Professorin  was 
obliged  to  find  some  new  basis  and  reason 
for  every  question  that  came  up,  which 
made  her  appear  unsettled  and  doubtful. 
And  this  apparent  indecision  was  increased 
by  the  feeling  she  had  of  not  being  justified 
in  contending  against  a  faith  so  firm  and  so 
beneficent  in  its  influence.  An  unrest,  like 
that  of  a  spy,  who,  from  the  highest  patri- 
otic motives,  inspects  an  enemy1s  camp, 
characterized  her  whole  manner,  and  she 
blamed  herself  for  having  undertaken  the 
commission1.  But  she  was  now  at  the  post, 
and  must  defend  her  views.  Wishing  to 
find  some  impregnable  position,  she  repre- 
sented to  Manna  that  her  father  wanted  to 
organize  a  general  plan  of  systematic  char- 
ity, and  that  it  would  be  a  noble  vocation 
for  her  to  take  part  in  it.  The  Superior 
waited  for  Manna  to  reply,  and  she  now 
said :  — 

"  My  father's  donations  do  not  fall  into 
the  right  hands  ;  we  can  do  nothing  but  re- 
store the  property  to  him  who  alone  has  the 
right  to  determine  what  use  shall  be  made 
of  it.11 

There  was  more  in  Manna's  reply  than 
appeared  on  the  surface. 

The  Professorin  remarked  that  every 
poor  man  was  a  messenger  of  mercy,  and 


276 


THE  COUNTRY-nOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE 


every  one  who  needed  help  made  a  demand 
for  sacrifices ;  that  it  was  not  enough  to 
bestow  gifts,  but  one  must  personally  devote 
himself  to  the  distressed.  The-  alms  was 
not  the  important  thing,  but  the  pains  which 
one  must  take  on  the  supplicant's  account. 
How  often  a  man,  as  he  goes  along  the  street 
in  winter,  well  wrapped  up  in  his  furs,  be- 
stows an  alms  upon  a  poor,  freezing  beggar  ! 
For  him  to  unbutton  his  coat,  and  to  look 
for  something  to  give,  is  of  more  account 
than  the  gift  itself,  at  least  to  the  giver. 

Manna  answered  that  women  could  not 
do  such  a  work  by  themselves.  The  Supe- 
rior joined  in,  saying  that  she  had  advised 
decidedly  against  Manna's  taking  the  veil, 
for  it  was  to  be  feared  that  she  had  no  true 
vocation  for  it.  Then  she  added  in  a  sharp 
tone  to  the  Professorin  :  —  "  We  are  wholly 
indifferent  to  the  accusation  of  having  tried 
to  get  possession  of  the  child's  property ; 
we  do  not  despise  the  wealth,  we  can  do  a 
great  deal  of  good  with  it;  but  it  is  the 
child's  soul  that  we  value,  and  we  do  not 
stop  to  inquire  whether  worldlings  believe 
it  or  not." 

The  Professorin  was  glad  to  find  herself 
at  last  in  the  cell  where  she  was  to  sleep. 
She  had  never  slept  at  a  convent,  and  she 
had  again  the  disagreeable  feeling  of  being 
a  traitress  and  a  spy.  She  said  to  herself 
with  a  smile  :  — 

"  I  am  rejoiced  now  that  I  forgot  Parker's 
book ;  it  would  be  a  fresh  treachery  to  have 
and  to  read  his  words  and  his  thoughts  here 
in  this  house." 

She  gave  up  the  purpose  of  exerting  an 
influence  over  Manna,  for  here  were  prior 
experiences  which  were  beyond  her  control, 
and  relations  that  were  involved  in  obscur- 
ity. A  deep  sorrow  preyed  upon  the  child, 
which  could  only  be  revealed  at  the  con- 
fessional, and  which  perhaps  there  only  could 
find  relief. 

The  Professorin  was  deeply  disturbed, 
and  had  troubled  dreams.  She  seemed  to 
be  in  the  midst  of  Wallenstein's  camp,  and 
in  fetters  as  a  spy ;  she  was  being  interro- 
gated by  the  sergeant  of  the  guard,  when, 
all  of  a  sudden,  he  was  changed  into  Pro- 
fessor Einsiedel,  who  said  to  her :  — 

"  Be  not  afraid,  I  have  influence  on  every 
one  here,  I  will  set  you  at  liberty." 

Then  she  was  standing  in  the  midst  of  the 
court-circle,  and  all  were  laughing  at  the 
vivandi&re  —  years  ago  when  she  was  a 
young,  frolicsome  girl,  she  had  once  taken 
that  part  —  and  now,  as  she  met  the  glance 
of  her  son,  she  felt  ashamed  of  her  appear- 
ance. 

These  dreams  whirled  through  her  brain 


in  strange  confusion.  She  was  rejoiced,  on 
waking,  to  find  that  it  was  all  a  dream. 

The  hour  for  rising  at  the  convent  was  a 
very  early  one,  but  long  before  the  matin 
bell  of  the  church  rang,  the  Professorin  had 
dressed,  and  stood  watching  from  her  cell 
the  breaking  day.  The  impressions  of  her 
troubled  dreams  faded  like  the  mists  on  the 
river,  which  were  now  struggling  with  the 
dawning  light.  She  dwelt  in  imagination 
upon  the  hundreds  of  young  souls  who  now 
lay  asleep,  preparing  to  meet  a  peaceful 
future.  She  thought  upon  the  nuns  who 
had  renounced  life,  to  whom  the  day  brought 
no  event  of  personal  interest,  nothing  but 
the  uniform  round  of  duty. 

She  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  ventur- 
ing to  disturb  such  a  life. 

There  may  be  many  incidental  and  casual 
irregularities  here,  she  thought,  but  a  holy 
will  has  authority  over  these  spirits  ;  and  at 
this  early  morning  hour,  a  saying  of  her 
husband's  recurred  to  her:  — 
,  "  You  can  oppose  an  established  positive 
religion  only  by  having  more  religion  than 
is  embodied  in  it.  The  idea  of  the  pure  is 
persecuted,  hunted  down,  obscured,  in  the 
world ;  and  the  hand  must  be  sure  of  its 
high  consecration,  which  ventures  to  at- 
tack a  sanctuary  ofthat  idea." 

The  morning  sun  had  become  lord  over 
the  mist,  shining  brightly  over  river  and 
mountains.  The  convent-bell  rang,  and  the 
great  house  was  all  astir. 

The  Professorin  went  down,  and  knelt 
behind  a  pillar ;  the  sisters  and  the  children 
assembled  together. 

She  remained  until  the  morning  service 
had  ended,  and  then  going  into  the  dining- 
hall,  she  begged  Manna  and  the  Superior 
to  permit  her  to  take  leave.  They  accom- 
panied her  to  the  shore. 

The  Professorin  exhorted  Manna  to  stay 
at  the  convent,  and  devote  herself  to  reflec- 
tion and  pure  thought.  She  spoke  with 
such  earnestness  that  the  Superior,  taking 
her  by  the  hand,  uttered  in  a  low  tone  what 
was  evidently  a  prayer. 

The  Professorin  perceived  that  her  old 
friend  was  praying  in  her  behalf.  Ancl  why 
should  there  not-  be  just  as  good  grounds 
for  this  form,  as  for  an  inward  thought  and 
wish  for  another,  on  whom  one  would  in- 
voke every  blessing,  unexpressed  in  words  ? 
With  a  light  heart,  she  was  set  over  to  the 
main-land. 

Sonnenkamp  was  surprised  that  she  did 
not  have  Manna  with  her ;  but  she  said,  in 
explanation,  that  she  would  not  interfere 
any  farther  in  this  matter.  She  went  back 
with  Sonnenkamp  to  the  villa.    On  board 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


277 


the  boat,  she  sketched  out  in  full  the  plan 
of  an  organized  system  of  charity,  which 
must  be  so  arranged  that  Manna  could  go 
from  one  sanctuary  into  another. 

Sonnenkamp  listened  in  silence,  but  in 
no  pleasant  humor.  The  whole  world 
seemed  to  have  entered  into  a  conspiracy 
against  him,  to  make  of  him  a  sanctified 
hypocrite. 

Yesterday,  Pranken  had  made  the  same 
demand  upon  him,  and  he  had  said  in  reply, 
that  it  was  a  contemptible  thing  for  the 
very  nobility  to  be  desirous  of  playing  the 
hypocrite;  but  Pranken  had  insisted  prin- 
cipally upon  the  religious  obligation. 

Sonnenkamp  had  shrugged  his  shoulders, 


for  the  man  kept  his  mask  on  even  when  he 
was  alone  with  him.  He  only  consented  after 
Pranken  had  added,  that,  by  this  means, 
the  Court  would  not  only  be  justified  in 
conferring  the  title  of  nobility,  but  would 
feel  bound  to  do  it.  Here  now  was  Frau 
Dournay  making  a  similar  demand ;  and 
this  was  so  far  good,  that  her  intentions 
were  most  likely  honest. 

The  journey  home  was  not  very  animated, 
for  they  were '  returning  from  a  bootless 
errand.  Sonnenkamp  was  disturbed  be- 
cause he  was  called  upon  to  do  this  and 
that,  and  no  object  had  yet  been  accom- 
plished. 


278 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
TIIE  FORBIDDEN  FRUIT  IN  EDEN. 

A  strange  spirit,  meanwhile,  made  its  ap- 
pearance at  Villa  Eden.  It  was  kept  in  con- 
cealment, and  yet  had  nothing  spectral ;  it 
was  bright  and  luminous,  and  yet  produced 
a  great  hurly-burly. 

The  morning  after  the  departure  of  Eric's 
mother,  Roland  had  gone  to  the  vine-cov- 
ered cottage,  to  get  a  book  out  of  the  library 
for  Eric.  With  the  simple  desire  of  seeing 
how  it  looked  now  the  Mother  was  away,  he 
had  entered  the  open  door  of  her  room.  An 
open  book  was  lying  upon  the  table,  and  on 
the  fly-leaf  there  was  written  in  English  :  To 
my  friend  Dournay  —  Theodore  Parker. 

Roland  was  startled.  This  is  the  man, 
then,  whom  the  Mother  had  spoken  of  as  a 
saint  a  few  days  ago,  and  whom  he  was  to 
get  acquainted  with  by  and  by.  He  took 
the  book  and  secreted  it. 

At  noon,  he  asked  permission  to  go  and 
see  Claus,  and  it  was  given.  Eric  remained 
at  home,  for  he  wanted  to  finish  a  letter  to 
Professor  Einsiedel  that  be  had  begun  some 
time  ago.  But  Roland  did  not  go  to  see 
Claus  ;  he  sat  down  under  the  lofty  willows 
by  the  river-bank,  steadily  reading,  with  oc- 
casional glances  at  the  stream. 

What  does  this  mean  ?  Here  is  a  cham- 
pion, an  inspired  one,  a  God-revering 
champion,  fighting  for  civilization  and 
against  slavery,  lie  read  of  a  man,  whose 
name  was  John  Brown,  who  was  hanged 
on  the  gallows  at  Harper's  Ferry  for  his 
attempts  ^o  abolish  slavery.  He  read 
and  learned  how  Parker  had  prophesied  a 
mighty  struggle ;  and  these  words  fell  into 
the  youth's  soul  like  a  spark  of  fire  :  "  All 
the  great  charters  of  humanity  are  written 
in  blood." 

He  read  on  and  on,  until  he  could  see 
no  longer  for  the  darkness.  And  now  it 
occurred  to  him  that  he  had  meant  to  call 
upon  Claus,  and  he  hurried  towards  the  vil- 
lage. 

Eric  met  him  as  he  was  going,  and  was 
very  angry  at  being  deceived. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  asked  Eric. 

"  With  this  man  ;"  handing  Eric  the  book. 

Roland  had  eaten  forbidden  fruit  from 
the  tree  of  knowledge,  and  Eric  was  sur- 
prised to  see  how  deep  an  impression  had 
been  made  upon  the  youth.  A  new  and 
difficult  task  was  before  him,  to  keep  the 
youth  from  saying  anything  in  his  father's 
presence. 

"  Who  is  Brown  ?  "  inquired  Roland. 
"  Can  you  tell  me  about  him  ?  " 

Eric  told  him.  He  narrated  the  martyr's 
history,  and  dwelt  with  emphasis   on  the 


fact,  that  even  in  our  day  life  is  offered  as 
a  sacrifice,  and  that  a  pure  self-surrender 
raises  to  the  sublime  even  the  man  wearing 
a  captain's  gay  uniform  of  the  present  day. 
He  wanted  to  show,  incidentally,  that  the 
costume  of  every,  age  and  every  condition 
in  life  could  be  the  symbolic  expression  of 
the  highest  greatness  ;  but  Roland  did  not 
go  along  with  him,  and  he  had  the  appar- 
ently difficult  task  of  justifying,  or,  at  least, 
of  explaining  the  position  of  Sonnenkamp, 
who  had  incontrovertibly  taken  the  oppo- 
site side. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  Roland  ;  "  now  I 
remember  you  said,  when  we  were  with  the 
Russian  at  Wolfsgarten,  'You  could  not 
imagine  that  a  white  boy  and  a  negro  boy 
could  be  comrades.'  Are  you,  too,  a  friend 
of  slavery  ?  " 

Eric  tried  to  explain  his  meaning;  and, 
while  striving  to  reconcile  the  difference,  he 
was  pleased  to  notice  how  open  the  youth's 
soul  was  to  every  impression,  and  how  te- 
naciously it  clung  to  things  spoken  of  only 
in  a  cursory  and  incidental  way. 

Eric  sat  with  Roland  until  it  was  very 
late ;  he  was  obliged  to  satisfy  his  ingenu- 
ous mind,  and  this  was  almost  the  hardest 
task  that  had  ever  been  laid  upon  him.  The 
youth  was  to  be  made  to  perceive  that  there 
wasanother.wav  of  considering  the  ques- 
tion, one  that  regarded  slavery  as  justifiable 
and  a  righteous  necessity ;  he  was  never  to 
let  his  father  know  that  he  considered  him 
in  the  wrong,  and  that  he  had  happened  to 
become  acquainted,  through  the  Professorin, 
with  a  spirit  that  ought  not  to  have  been 
conjured  up  in  this  house.  Eric  called  to 
mind  his  mother,  who  had  admonished  him, 
with  reason,  that  he  was  to  adopt  that 
course  of  instruction  for  Roland  which  was 
necessary,  and  not  that  which  the  youth  him- 
self preferred.  Circumstances  now  rendered 
it  necessary  to  follow  only  that  track  which 
the  youth  had  entered  upon  for  himself.  It 
was  a  matter  of  rejoicing  that  he  had  of 
himself  struck  out  the  path ;  it  was  just 
what  all  education  proposed  :  and  now  was 
he  to  turn  aside  from  this  track,  and  to 
shatter  in  pieces  the  abiding  fundamental 
principle,  Thou  shalt,  and  thou  shalt  not  ? 

"  It  seems  to  me  like  a  dream,"  Roland 
went  on  to  say;  "  a  great  negro  once  held 
me  in  his  arms ;  I  remember  distinctly  all 
about  him  ;  I  remember  his  woolly  hair,  and 
how  I  pulled  him  by  it ;  his  face  was  smooth, 
without  any  beard  at  all." 
.  "  The  negroes  have  no  growth  of  beard," 
added  Eric,  and  the  youth  continued,  dream- 
ilv :  — 

"I  have  been  carried  by  negroes  —  by 
I  negroes." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


279 


He  continued  to  repeat  the  word  in  a 
lower  and  lower  tone,  and  then  became  si- 
lent. Suddenly  he  passed  his  hand  over  his 
brow,  and  asked,  — 

"  Are  the  people  who  are  slaves  fond  of 
their  children  ?  Do  you  know  any  song 
they  sing  ?  " 

Eric  had  very  little  to  say  in  reply.  Ro- 
land wanted  to  know  how  all  the  ancient 
nations  regarded  slavery.  Eric  could  give 
him  only  a  superficial  statement ;  he  pro- 
ceeded to  open  his  letter  to  Professor 
Einsiedel,  and  requested  that  he  would  tell 
him  what  books  treated  upon  the  subject  of 
slavery  among  the  Jews,  Greeks,  Romans, 
and  especially  the  ancient  Germans. 

When  Roland  was  at  last  ready  to  go  to 
bed,  he  produced  Thomas  ä  Kempis,  and 
placed  it  beside  Theodore  Parker. 

"  I  would  like  to  imagine,"  he  said,  "  how 
they  would  regard  one  another,  if  they  stood 
side  by  side.  I  fancy  Thomas  a  Kempis  to 
be  an  extremely  devout,  refined  monk ; 
and  when  I  imagine  Theodore  Parker,  I 
think  of  him  as  a  grandson  or  great  grand- 
son of  Benjamin  Franklin." 

Eric  was  more  and  more  amazed,  for  he 
saw  how  deeply  Roland  had  thought  about 
them  both. 

Thomas  a  Kempis  makes  men  recluses, 
leads  them  continually  into  themselves,  and 
then  above  the  human  world ;  Parker  also 
leads  men  into  themselves,  but  afterwards 
out  of  themselves  and  into  the  world 
around  them. 

When  Roland  and  Eric  went,  the  next 
day,  to  post  the  letter  to  Professor  Einsie- 
del, they  saw  the  boat  coming  up  the  river, 
on  which  were  the  Mother  and  Sonnenkamp. 
They  made  a  signal,  and  repaired  to  the 
landing.  Roland  was  astonished  that  Man- 
na had  not  come  with  them,  for  his  father 
had  promised  to  bring  her.  Sonnenkamp 
went  on  in  advance  with  Eric,  and  asked 
after  the  household.  He  seemed  in  a  very 
bad  humor. 

Roland  detained  the  Mother,  and  when 
the  others  were  out  of  hearing,  he  asked 
her :  — 

"Did  Manna  tell  you  too  that  she  was 
an  Iphigenia  ?  " 

"  No.    What  did  she  mean  by  that  ?  11 
"  I  don't  know." 

The  Mother  pressed  her  lips  together ; 
she  had  some  idea  of  what  she  meant ;  she 
understood  her  lamentation,  and  her  thank- 
fulness to  God,  for  having  called  her  to  en- 
dure the  extreme  of  woe.  She  inquired 
about  the  connection  in  which  the  expres- 
sion had  been  used,  but  Roland  interrupted 


her  by  telling  her  that  he  had  read  the 
book  which  she  had  forgotten. 

The  Mother  was  startled,  but  felt  more 
at  ease  when  Roland  related  to  her  that 
Eric  had  set  him  right  in  the  matter,  and 
that  he  himself  would  be  sure  to  keep  the 
secret. 

Nevertheless,  she  was  deeply  troubled, 
on  reaching  the  villa,  at  having  brought 
hither  a  spirit  which  could  not  dwell  Under 
the  roof.  The  freedom  of  her  soul  was 
taken  away,  for  that  which  she  had  kept  in 
concealment  had  now  begun  to  exert  -an  in- 
fluence openly.  It  was  no  longer  subject 
to  her  control,  and  it  might  suddenly  appear 
in  a  frightful  and  perplexing  form. 

Frau  Ceres  was  sick  again.  Fräulein 
Perini  could  not  be  spared  a  moment,  and 
sent  her  thanks  for  the  kindly  greeting  of 
the  Professorin  and  Sonnenkamp. 

Like  a  child  who  is  always  bright  and 
cheerful,  always  living  in  the  present  mo- 
ment, disturbed  by  no  confusion,  and  no 
subtleties  of  thought,  —  so  appeared  the 
Major,  and  every  one  took  delight  in  his 
steadfastand  natural  equability.  He  thought 
it  was  well  that  Manna  had  not  returned 
now ;  when  the  castle  was  completed,  it 
would  be  just  the  nicest  thing:  out  of  the 
convent  into  the  castle.  He  should  be  glad 
when  they  were  all  together  again ;  he 
couldn't  stand  this  everlasting  starting  off 
and  bursting  away  from  each  other  like  a 
bomb-shell ;  there  wasn't  a  better  and  finer 
place  than  right  here  in  the  country,  and 
they  couldn't  get  anywhere  more  than  sky, 
and  water,  and  mountains,  and  trees. 

The  Major  cheered  up  the  company,  who 
were  sitting  at  the  tea-table  in  a  strangely 
absent  mood.  The  Professorin  afterwards 
accompanied  him  home.  She  sat  talking 
with  Friiulein  Milch  until  it  was  quite  late, 
and  appointed  her  as  first  assistant  in  the 
charitable  organization.  She  seemed  ex- 
actly fitted  for  it,  as  she  knew  everybody  and 
everybody's  circumstances.  She  desired 
that,  for  the  first  thing,  a  dozen  sewing 
machines  should  be  distributed  in  the  sur- 
rounding villages  ;  she  would  herself  teach 
the  women  and  girls  how  to  use  them. 

The  Major  and  Friiulein  Milch  accompa- 
nied the  Mother  back  to  the  villa  by  star- 
light. She  was  refreshed  and  strengthened. 
Her  soul  was  peaceful,  and  a  saying  of  Goe- 
the's seemed  to  be  sounding  within  her :  — 
"  Thou  canst  not  perceive  what  thou  art  by 
reflection,  but  only  by  seeking  to  perform 
thy  duty." 

She  had  a  work  before  her  that  would 
uplift  her  and  the  whole  neighborhood. 


280  THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
A  NEW  DOOR  IN  THE  WALL. 

The  Professors  widow  accompanied  the 
Doctor  for  several  days  in  his  professional 
rounds.  She  ob.tained  in  this  way,  by  di- 
rect observation,  an  insight  into  the  country 
life. 

She  laid  before  Sonnenkamp  a  plan  ma- 
tured by  herself  and  Fräulein  Milch,  which 
he  very  readily  assented  to,  especially  that 
part  relating  to  the  furnishing  of  sewing 
machines.  Besides  being  an  American 
"  institution,1'  this  would  create  a  good  deal 
of  talk.  He  made  a  trip  to  the  capital 
himself,  and  bought  the  machines. 

He  took  great  pleasure  in  hearing  the 
widow  speak  of  the  satisfaction  she  derived 
from  having  the  ability  to  do  so  much  good, 
formerly  through  the  Princess,  and  now 
through  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 

"How  does  it  happen,"  he  inquired  of 
her,  "  that  the  poor,  or  the  comparatively 
poor,  are  united  together  so  much  more 
closely  than  the  rich  ?  11 

"  I  have  never  reflected  upon  the  matter," 
she  replied  with  an  embarrassed  smile,  "but 
if  I  should  now  express  an  opinion  upon  it, 
I  should  say,  that  the  rich  man  clings  to  his 
property,  and  is  obliged  to  think  of  himself ; 
he  can't  do  otherwise.  He  is  not  permitted 
to  survey  the  lot  of  others ;  his  soul,  his 
eye,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  does  not 
have  the  beseeching  glance  of  him  who  sits 
forlorn  by  the  wayside.  But  the  poor  man 
is  hoping,  waiting ;  he  has  nothing  but  a 
bundle  in  his  hands,  or  probably  nothing 
but  his  empty  hands  ;  he  is  independent  of 
others,  and  dependent  on  them  too." 

Sonnenkamp  was  very  eloquent  in  praise 
of  this  considerate,  indulgent  view,  as  he 
termed  it ;  and  the  Professorin  was  delight- 
ed with  the  polite  manner  and  the  delicacy 
of  this  man,  apparently  so  bad  and  selfish. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  continued,  blushing  deep- 
ly, "  perhaps  we  might  take  an  illustration 
from  the  animal  world." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

She  was  silent,  and  only  replied  after 
Sonnenkamp  had  repeated  the  question  : — 

"  I  will  give  you  my  thought,  crude  as  it 
is.  I  was  thinking  of  the  beasts  of  prey 
who  live  singly ;  and  wolves  only  herd  to- 
gether when  there  is  some  common  booty  to 
be  got,  the  rest  of  the  time,  each  living  by 
himself.  The  herbivorous  animals,  on  the 
contrary,  live  together  in  herds,  and  afford 
a  common  protection." 

She  interrupted  herself  smiling,  and  then 
continued : — 

"My  wisdom  is  of  yesterday,  and  it  is  not 


worth  very  much.  The  field-guard,  Claus, 
told  me  that,  in  autumn,  the  birds  which  feed 
upon  grain  assemble  in  flocks,  but  those 
which  live  upon  insects  do  not." 

Sonnenkamp  was  very  amiable.  The 
Professorin  added  in  continuation : — 

"  But  yet  the  granivorous  birds  are  no 
more  virtuous  than  the  insectivorous  ;  each 
kind  lives  in  accordance  with  its  own  law." 

Sonnenkamp  became  more  and  more 
charmed  with  the  Professorin ;  she  spread 
his  table  with  viands  which  could  not  be  im- 
ported from  abroad,  and  which  the  garden 
did  not  supply. 

The  journals,  day  after  day,  now  pub- 
lished Herr  Sonnenkamp's  praiseworthy  en- 
deavors to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the 
people.  The  Cabinetsrathin  came,  and 
congratulated  him  upon  the  excellent  result, 
adding  that,  according  to  a  report  from  her 
husband,  this  noble  deed  of  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp had  been  noticed  in  the  highest  quar- 
ter. 

Sonnenkamp  was  now  exceedingly  zeal- 
ous. He  was  anxious  that  there  should  be 
no  intermission  in  the  public  notices,  and 
that  something  should  be  said  about  him 
every  day.  Pranken,  however,  who  had 
returned  from  his  farming  escapade,  showed 
that  it  would  be  better  to  hold  up  a  little, 
and  then  to  come  down  upon  the  public  with 
a  fresh  sensation.  He  had  evidently  heard 
of  the  good  impression  which  the  Profess- 
orin had  made  at  the  convent,  and  of  the 
earnest  exhortation  to  Manna;  and  when 
Sonnenkamp  unfolded  to  him  his  plan  of 
having  the  Professorin  reside  there  per- 
manently, he  immediately  assented  to  it. 

A  path  was  laid  out  from  the  villa  to  the 
vine-covered  house,  through  the  beautiful 
meadows  and  along  the  river-bank.  Son- 
nenkamp invited  the  Professorin,  on  a  cer- 
tain day,  to  accompany  him  into  the  garden, 
♦and  all  the  family  must  go  with  them. 

A  new  gateway  had  been  made  in  the 
wall  which  surrounded  the  park.  Sonnen- 
kamp said  that  the  Professorin  should  be  the 
first  one  to  pass  through  it.  He  gave  her 
the  key,  and  she  opened  the  gate.  She 
went  through  it  and  along  the  pathway,  fol- 
lowed by  the  whole  family,  and  Pranken 
among  them. 

They  proceeded  to  the  vine-covered  cot- 
tage, and  the  Professorin  was  amazed  to 
find  here  all  her  household  furniture,  and 
the  library  of  her  husband  arranged  in  good 
order. 

Aunt  Claudine  was  here  too ;  for  Sonnen- 
kamp had  contrived  that  she  should  be  re- 
leased from  Clodwig. 

Sonncnkamp  introduced,  with  a  sort  of 
pride,  his  valet  Joseph,  who  had  made  all 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE.  281 


these  arrangements,  as  a  native  son  of  the 
university. 

The  Professorin  expressed  her  thanks  to 
Joseph,  and  shook  hands  with  him. 

Pretty  soon  the  Major  came  ;  and  when  the 
Professorin  inquired  after  Fräulein  Milch,  he 
stammeringly  made  an  apology  in  her  be- 
half. It  was  plainly  wrong  in  his  view,  that 
Fräulein  Milch  should  so  persistently  refuse 
to  go  into  society. 

The  Professorin  had  not  recovered  from 
her  amazement  and  satisfaction  when  Clod- 
wig  and  Bella  arrived.  Provision  had  been 
made  for  a  cheerful  repast  in  the  garden, 
and  Roland  gave  expression  to  the  general 
feeling,  when  he  said  :  — 

"  Now  I  have  a  grandmother  and  an  aunt, 
safe  in  their  nest." 

In  the  evening,  Eric  received  a  large 
package  of  books  and  a  letter  from  Pro- 
fessor Einsiedel,  and  also  a  large  sheet  of 
memoranda.  He  commended  Eric's  inten- 
tion of  writing  a  treatise  upon  the  idea  and 
nature  of  slavery,  as  it  would  prove  a  very 
fertile  theme. 

Eric  put  away  Ae  books,  for  he  regarded 
it  as  a  fortunate  thing  that  Roland's 
thoughts  were  occupied  neither  upon  slavery 
nor  free  labor,  nor  any  kindred  topic,  but 
with  something  entirely  different. 

The  son  of  the  Cabinetsräthin,  the  cadet, 
was  now  at  the  newly  acquired  country-seat, 
on  furlough,  and  he  exhorted  Roland  to  be 
diligent,  so  as  to  be  able  before  long  to  en- 
ter the  military  school. 

Roland  was  now  wholly  bent  upon  enter- 
ing the  highest  class,  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment.  He  spoke  of  it  daily  to  his  father 
and  Pranken.  The  father  one  day  took  him 
aside  and  said  :  — 

"  My  child,  it  is  well,  and  I  am  glad 
that  you  are  so  diligent  in  getting  fitted, 
but  you  will  not  enter — take  notice,  I 
show  my  respect  for  you  by  this  communi- 
cation ;  I  look  upon  you  as  a  grown-up 
and  mature  man." 

He  stopped,  and  Roland  asked,  — 

"  When  is  it  that  I  am  to  enter  ?  " 

"  Come  nearer,  and  I  will  whisper  it  to 
you ;  you  are  to  enter  wheij  you  are  a  no- 
ble." 

"Ia  noble  ?  and  you  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,  all  of  us ;  and  for  your  sake  I 
must  become  ennobled,  as  you  will  see  by 
and  by.  Do  you  feel  glad  at  being  made  a 
noble"?" 

"  Do  you  know,  father,  when  I  first  be- 
gan to  respect  nobility  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  him  inquiringly, 
and  Roland  continued:  — 

"  At  the  railroad  station,  where  I  saw  a 
crazy,  drunken  man.    Everybody  showed 


respect  for  him,  because  he  was  a  nobleman, 
a  baron.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  noble- 
man." 

Roland  now  gave  an  account  of  the  meet- 
ing on  the  morning  after  his  flight,  and 
Sonnenkamp  was  surprised  at  the  astonish- 
ing effect  produced  upon"  him,  and  at  the 
lasting  impression  everything  made.  He 
now  said :  — 

"Give  me  your  hand,  as  a  pledge  that 
you  will  say  nothing  about  this  to  your  mas- 
ter, Eric,  until  I  shall  tell  him  myself.  On 
the  word  of  an  officer." 

After  some  delay  and  deliberation,  Roland 
gave  his  hand. 

His  father  now  proceeded  to  explain  to 
him  how  disagreeable  it  would  be  to  enter 
the  military  school  under  a  citizen's  name, 
and  while  there  to  be  ennobled.  ' 

Roland  inquired  why  he  was  not  to  say 
anything  about  it  to  Eric. 

His  father  refused  to  tell  him  why,  de- 
manding unconditional  obedience. 

And  so  Roland  had  now  a  two-fold  secret 
to  keep,  one  from  his  father,  and  the  other 
from  Eric.  The  youth's  soul  was  distressed, 
and  it  found  an  odd  expression  in  the  ques- 
tion he  once  put  to  Eric  :  — 

"  Do  the  negroes  in  their  native  land  have 
nobles  too  ?  " 

"There  are  no  nobles  in  their  own 
right,"  replied  Eric;  "  individual  men  be- 
long to  the  nobility  only  when,  and  only  so 
long,  as  others  regard  them  as  such." 

Eric  had  thought  that  Roland's  zeal  for 
the  military  school  had  excluded  all  his 
former  notions  and  speculations ;  but  he 
now  saw  that  they  were  still  active,  and  had 
become  connected  with  odd  associations, 
which  he  could  not  explain  to  himself  satis- 
factorily. But  he  took  heed  to  make  no 
further  inquiry. 

During  his  furlough,  the  son  of  the  Cabin- 
etsräthin was  very  constant  in  attendance 
upon  the  lessons  given  to  Roland,  and  Son- 
nenkamp, having  her  sanction,  proposed 
that '  the  young  cadet  should  leave  the 
school  for  a  time,  and  be  instructed  in  com- 
pany with  Roland. 

Roland  was  highly  pleased  with  this  plan, 
but  Eric  objected ;  and  when  Sonnenkamp 
stated  to  him  that  he  had  formerly  desired 
that  Roland  should  have  a  comrade  who 
should  receive  instruction  with  him,  Eric 
found  great  difficulty  in  explaining  to  him 
that  it  was  now  inexpedient ;  that  the  course 
of  instruction  he  had  undertaken  with 
Roland  was  adapted  exclusively  to  him,  and 
that  now  any  comradeship,  and  any  refer- 
ence to  another's  condition  and  progress, 
would  be  only  a  disturbing  element. 

Eric,  by  this  means,  alienated  not  only 


282 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Herr  Sonnenkamp  and  the  Cabinetsrathin, 
but  also  lor  a  time  his  pupil  himself,  who 
was  out  of  humor  and  refractory,  after  the 
cadet  had  returned  to  the  capital. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
STEEL-TRAPS  IN  THE  POETS'  GARDEN. 

Sonnenkamp  prided  himself  in  growing 
the  best  wines  ;  but  the  traditional  account 
of  the  joyous  celebration  of  the  harvest- 
home  is  a  mere  fable.  In  the  morning  the 
mists  were  hanging  far  and  wide  over  the 
valleys,  and  in  the  early  evening  they  shut 
out  the  whole  landscape.  The  leaves  had 
fallen  from  the  trees,  and  the  hoar  frost 
glistened  on  the  bare  twigs,  when  at  last 
the  grapes  were  gathered  and  pressed.  . 

The  Major  would  not  allow  it  to  be 
thought  of  for  a  moment,  that  they  should 
omit  firing  their  salute ;  he  took  extreme 
satisfaction  in  his  two  comrades,  Eric  and 
Roland,  who  fired  at  his  word  of  command, 
so  that  the  three  reports  sounded  as  one. 
But  this  was  the  whole  celebration  of  the 
merry  harvest-home. 

Fires  had  been  already  made  at  the  villa, 
and  Sonnenkamp's  pride  in  each  stove  hav- 
ing its  own  chimney  was  shown  to  be  well 
founded.  But  it  was  a  truly  festive  occa- 
sion when  the  Professorin  had  a  fire  kindled 
for  the  first  time  in  her  sitting-room.  She 
had  invited  Eric  and  Roland  to  be  present, 
and  Fräulein  Milch  happened  to  be  there. 
And  as  they  sat  together  before  the  open 
fire-place,  in  serene  and  homelike  content, 
it  would  be  hard  to  say  precisely  what  it 
was  that  made  them  so  cheery  and  peaceful. 

The  Mother  exhorted  Eric  to  resume  his 
habit  of  reading  aloud,  in  the  cosy  winter 
evenings,  some  great  poems,  and  he  prom- 
ised to  do  so.  He  felt  that  he  must  make 
some  extra  effort  to  dispel  the  coldness  pro- 
duced by  his  refusal  to  receive  as  a  pupil 
the  son  of  the  Cabinetsrathin. 

Sonnenkamp,  who  had  an  extensive  hunt- 
ing-park, sent  out  cards  inviting  some  per- 
sons of  the  best  society  to  a  hunting-party. 
Invitations  also  came  from  the  neighbors, 
and  Erie  was  able  to  be  present  with  Ro- 
land at  a  great  hunting-party  as  often  as 
once  a  week. 

Roland  was  proud  of  his  father's  skill  in 
the  chase ;  he  was  regarded  by  all  as  the 
leader,  and  the  whole  company  listened 
with  pleasure  to  his  accounts  of  grand  hunts 
in  America.  He  had  even  made  a  short 
excursion  to  Algiers,  and  there  shot  a  lion, 
whose  skin  was  now  under  his  writing-table ; 
it  was  meant  for  a  sleigh-robe,  but  here  in 
the  country,  a  merry  sleigh-ride  was  a  rare 
thing. 


The  supper  after  the  chase,  in  a  large 
apartment  fitted  up  for  the  purpose,  was 
always  of  the  merriest  sort.  The  Major 
was  here  in  his  element,  and  officiated  as 
lord  of  the  castle  ;  he  spoke  of  the  evenings 
which  Eric  enlivened  at  Villa  Eden  by 
reading  the  ancient  and  modern  dramas  ;  he 
never  knew  before  that  there  were  so  many 
fine  things  in  the  world,  and  that  one  indi- 
vidual man  could  make  everything  so  plain 
merely  by  his  voice. 

.  Eric  had  read  aloud  almost  without  ex- 
ception one  evening  every  week.  The  im- 
pression made  upon  the  hearers  was  various. 
The  Major  always  sat  with  his  hands  de- 
voutly folded ;  Frau  Ceres  reclined  in  her 
easy-chair,  occasionally  opening  her  eyes, 
to  show  that  she  was  not  asleep ;  Fraulein 
Perini  was  employed  with  some  hand-work, 
which  she  prosecuted  steadily,  exhibiting 
no  emotion ;  the  Mother  and  the  Aunt  sat 
there  quietly ;  Sonnenkamp  had  a  standing 
request  that  they  would  excuse  his  rudeness. 
Turning  to  Roland,  he  said  good-humored- 

}y>  — 

"  Don't  get  this  bad  habit —  don't  get  in 
the  way  of  having  a  stick  in  your  hand  to 
whittle." 

And  so  he  sat  and  whittled  away,  occa- 
sionally looking  up  with  a  fixed  stare,  hold- 
ing the  knife  in  his  right  hand  and  the 
piece  of  Avood  in  his  left ;  then  he  would 
resume  his  whittling. 

Roland  always  seated  himself  opposite 
the  reader,  so  that  Eric  must  look  him  in 
the  face.  Often,  until  it  was  very  late, 
Roland  would  talk  with  Eric  about  the 
wonderful  things  he  had  been  listening  to. 

Eric  had  been  reading  Macbeth,  and  he 
was  glad  to  hear  Roland  say,  — 

"  This  Lady  Macbeth  could  easily  be 
transformed  into  a  witch,  like  one  of  those 
who  came  in  at  the  beginning.'" 

Another  time,  when  Eric  had  been  read- 
ing Hamlet,  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  at 
hearing  Roland  say  to  him  in  the  evening, 
before  going  to  bed,  — 

"Strange!  Hamlet,  in  that  soliloquy, 
speaks  of  no  one  returning  from  the  other 
Avorld,  when,  only  a  short  time  before,  the 
spirit  of  his  father  had 'appeared,  and  he 
appears  again  afterwards." 

One  evening,  after  Eric  had  read  Goethe's 
Iphigenia,  Roland  said,  — 

"I  can't  make  out  at  all  why  Manna  said 
once  that  she  was  Iphigenia.  If  she  were 
Iphigenia,  I  should  be  Orestes.  I,  Orestes  ? 
I?  Why  was  it?  Do  you  understand 
Manna's  meaning  ?  " 

Eric  said  no.  N 

One  evening  when  the  Physician  and  the 
Priest  were  present,  Sonnenkamp  requested 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


283 


Eric  to  read  aloud  Shakespeare's  Othello. 
Eric  looked  at  Roland.  Will  not  Roland 
be  stirred  up  to  fresh  questioning  concern- 
ing the  negroes  ?  He  had  no  reason  he 
could  assign  for  declining,  and  he  could 
contrive  no  excuse  for  sending  Roland 
away. 

Eric  commenced  reading.  The  fulness 
and  flexibility  of  his  voice  gave  the  requi- 
site expression  to  each  character,  and  he 
preserved  the  proper  distinction  between 
reading  and  theatrical  presentation.  He 
brought  out  no  strong  colors ;  it  was  an 
artistic  embodiment  that  allowed  the  out- 
lines of  form  to  appear,  but  gave  no  color- 
ing; it  was  not  an  imitation  of  life,  but  a 
simple  outline  drawing  of  the  general  feat- 
ures, softened  but  sufficiently  defined. 

The  Doctor  nodded  to  the  Mother,  as 
much  as  to  say  that  Eric's  interpretation 
was  very  pleasant. 

For  the  first  time,  Frau  Ceres  listened 
with  eager  attention,  without  leaning  back 
once  during  the  whole  evening ;  she  con- 
tinued bent  forward,  and  her  countenance 
wore  an  unusual  expression. 

Eric  read  on  continuously,  and  when  he 
was  giving  the  close  of  Othello's  sorrowful 
confession  of  guilt,  in  a  voice  stru^ling 
with  tears,  like  one  resisting  the  inclination 
to  weep,  great  tears  ran  down  over  the  pale 
face  of  Frau  Ceres. 

The  piece  was  ended. 

Frau  Ceres  rose  quickly,  and  requested 
the  Mother  to  accompany  her  to  her  cham- 
ber. 

Fräulein  Perini  and  the  rest  of  the  ladies 
went  away  at  the  same  time.  The  men 
were  standing  up,  and  only  Roland  remained 
sitting,  as  if  spell-bound  to  the  chair. 

Glancing  towards  the  Doctor,  the  Major 
said,  — 

V  Isn't  this  a  really  wonderful  man?1' 
The  Doctor  nodded. 

The  Priest  had  his  hands  folded  together  ; 
Sonnenkamp  surveyed  his  whittlings,  plac- 
ing them  in  a  little  pile  together,  just  as  if 
they  had  been  gold-shavings,  and  even 
bending  down  to  pick  up  some  that  had 
fallen  upon  the  floor.  Now  he  straightened 
himself  up  and  asked  Eric,  — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Desdemona's 
guilt  ?  " 

"  Guilt  and  innocence,11  replied  Eric,  "  are 
not  positive  natural  conceptions  ;  they  are 
the  result  of  the  social  and  moral  laws  of 
humanity.  Nature  deals  only  with  the  free 
play  of  forces,  and  Shakespeare's  plays  ex- 
hibit to  us  only  this  free  play  of  natural  im- 
pulses in  men  and  women.11 

That's  true,11  interrupted  the  priest. 
"  In  this  work  there's  nothing  said  about  re- 


ligion, for  religion  would  necessarily  soften, 
ameliorate,  and  rule  over  the  savage  natures, 
conducting  themselves  just  like  natural 
forces,  or  rather  would  bring  them  into  sub- 
jection to  the  higher  revealed  laws." 

"  Fine,  very  fine,4'  said  Sonnenkamp, 
who  was  quite  pale  ;  "  but  permit  me  to  ask 
the  Captain  to  give  me  an  answer  to  my 
question." 

"  I  can  answer  your  first  question,"  Eric 
rejoined,  "  only  in  the  words  of  our  greatest 
writer  on  aesthetics :  The  poet  would  char- 
acterize a  lion,  and,  in  order  to  do  it,  he 
must  represent  him  as  tearing  in  pieces  a 
lamb.  The  guilt  of  the  lamb  does  not  come 
into  question  at  all.  The  lion  must  act  in 
accordance  with  his  nature.  But  I  think 
that  the  deep  tragedy  of  this  drama  lies 
hidden." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  it  is  ?  " 

"  This  maiden,  Desdemona,  without  moth- 
er, brother,  or  sister,  grown  up  from  child- 
hood among  men,  might  love  a  hero,  whose 
lyric,  childlike  nature,  craving  love  and  cling- 
ing fast  to  her,  would  make  him  crouch  like 
a  tamed  lion  at  her  feet.  This  submissive 
strength,  renouncing  no  element  of  its  wild 
energy,  but,  as  it  were,  purified  and  exalted, 
opens  the  well-spring  of  that  love  which 
covers  everything  else  with  oblivion,  over- 
comes the  difference  of  race,  and  washes 
clean  out  the  black  color  of  the  skin. 

"  When  Othello  kissed  her  for  the  first 
time,  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  he  kissed 
her  on  the  eyes ;  and  her  eyes  are  closed 
not  for  one  instant  merely,  but  for  a  long 
period.  But  an  unparallelled  horror,  a  wild 
insanity,  would  be  the  result  of  this  shutting 
of  the  eyes  when  Desdemona  should  hold 
in  her  arms  a  child,  who  should  appear,  in 
its  whole  exterior,  strange,  abhorrent  to  her, 
like  some  creature  that  did  not  belong  to 
the  human  race.  Out  from  her  heart, 
crushed  and  trampled  under  foot,  there 
must  have  come  a  shriek  of  agony.  A  child 
upon  her  breast,  a  creature  so  unlike  her- 
self! That  look,  which  HegCl  describes  as 
the  highest  of  all  that  the  eye  can  express, 
the  first  look  of  the  mother  upon  the  child, 
that  first  mother's  look  must  have  killed 
Desdemona,  or  made  her  raving  mad." 

Sonnenkamp,  who  had  all  the  time  been 
rapidly  shifting  the  whittlings  about  with 
his  fingers,  now  threw  them  all  upon  the 
floor  in  a  heap,  and  went  up  to  Eric,  hold- 
ing both  hands  stretched  out  at  length. 
His  huge  frame  trembled  with  emotion,  as 
he  cried  out :  — 

"  You  are  a  free  man,  a  freethinker;  you 
are  not  to  be  humbugged.  You  are  the  first 
one  that  ever  gave  me  a  reasonable  expla- 
nation of  this  antipathy.    Yes,  it's  so.  The 


284 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


instinct  of  the  poet  is  wonderfully  prophetic. 
'  Against  all  rules  of  nature  ! '  This  is  the 
expression  of  Desdemona's  father,  and  this 
is  the  whole  solution  of  the  problem.  On 
this  expression  the  whole  turns,  and  every 
part  is  in  harmony  with  it.  The  result 
must  be,  as  it  is,  a  product  of  nature.  It's 
against  nature  !  " 

The  men  who  were  present  had  never  be- 
fore heard  Sonnenkamp  speak  in  this  way, 
and  Roland,  who  had  been  staring  fixedly 
before  him,  looked  up  as  if  he  must  con- 
vince himself  that  it  was  really  his  father 
who  was  speaking.  In  an  exultant  tone, 
for  be  observed  the  effect  produced  upon 
them  all,  he  continued  :  — 

"  Marriage  —  marriage  !  The  Romans 
understood  what  was  meant  by  that.  Where 
marriage  is  in  violation  of  nature's  laws, 
there  can  be  no  talk  of  rights  of  humanity, 
equality  of  rights.  Apes,  with  all  their 
boasted  reason,  nothing  but  apes,  are  these 
silly  preachers  of  humanity,  who  build  up 
their  theories  and  universal  crotchets,  with- 
out looking  at  the  facts,  and  know  really 
nothing  of  these  brutes  endowed  with 
speech,  who  are  not  human  beings,  but 
everlastingly  apish  and  malicious  !  Ho,  ho  ! 
thou  noble  friend  of  humanity ! "  he  ex- 
claimed, striding  up  and  down  the  room, 
"  Marry  thy  daughter  to- a  nigger,  do  that ! 
do  that !  Be  in  terror,  every  moment,  that 
he  will  tear  her  limb  from  joint.  Hug  a 
black  grandchild  !  do  that,  noble  friend  of 
humanity  !  then  come  to  me  and  harangue 
about  the  equality  of  the  black  and  the 
white  race  !  " 

Sonnenkamp  had  clenched  his  fists,  as  if 
he  were  clutching  an  antagonist  by  the 
throat ;  his  eyes  Hashed,  his  lips  opened, 
and  his  jaws  snapped  together  like  a  tiger 
leaping  upon  his  prey.  He  now  suddenly 
placed  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  as  if  making 
a  powerful  effort  to  hold  himself  in  control. 

"You,  Herr  Captain,  and  the  poet,  have 
taken  me  somewhat  by  surprise,1'  he  said, 
with  a  constrained  smile  ;  and  then  he  again 
repeated  that  Eric  had  gone  to  the  root  of 
the  matter.  That  a  white  girl  could  not 
become  the  wife  of  a  nigger  was  no  preju- 
dice, but  a  law  of  nature. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  said  in  conclusion, 
turning  once  more  towards  Eric;  "you 
have  given  me  a  great  deal  to  think  about." 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  in  aston- 
ishment, and  the  Doctor  added,  in  a 
timid  way  very  foreign  from  his  usual  «man- 
ner, that  he  must  give  his  assent  to  this  on 
physiological  grounds,  for  it  was  a  well- 
known  fact  that  mixed  races,  in  the  third 
generation,  became  sterile.    A  separation 


of  the  races,  however,  does  not  exclude  hu- 
man rights,  any  more  than  it  excluded  hu- 
man duties  ;  and  religion  laid  them  upon  all 
alike. 

While  saying  this  he  turned  towards  the 
Priest,  who  felt  himself  called  upon  to  state 
that  the  negroes  were  susceptible  of  relig- 
ious conviction,  and  capable  of  receiving 
religious  instruction,  and  that  this  secured 
to  them  the  full  rights  of  men. 

"  Indeed  !  11  exclaimed  Sonnenkamp.  <fc  Is 
that  the  fact  ?  Why  then  did  not  the  Church 
ordain  the  removal  of  slavery  ?  " 

"  Because  the  Church,"  replied  the 
Priest  quietly,  "has  nothing  to  do  with 
ordaining  anything  of  the  kind.  The 
Church  directs  itself  to  the  human  soul, 
and  prepares  it  for  the  heavenly  kingdom* 
In  what  social  condition  the  body  of  man, 
the  outside  covering  of  this  soul,  may  be, 
we  have  nothing  to  do  with  ordaining  or 
determining.  Neither  slavery  nor  freedom 
is  a  hindrance  to  the  divine  life.  Our  Lord 
and  Master  called  the  souls  of  the  Jews  to 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  whilst 
they  were  Roman  citizens,  and  under  sub- 
jection. He  called  all  nations  through  his 
apostles,  and  did  not  stop  to  ask  about 
their  political  condition  and  constitution. 
Our  kingdom  is  the  kingdom  of  souls,  which 
are  one  and  the  same,  whether  they  live  in 
a  republic  or  under  a  tyranny,  whether 
their  bodies  are  white  or  black.  We  are 
glad  to  have  the  body  free,  but  it  is  not 
our  work  to  make  it  so." 

"  Theodore  Parker  takes  a  different 
view,"  Roland  suddenly  exclaimed. 

As  if  a  bullet  had  whistled  close  to  his 
ears,  Sonnenkamp  cried,  — 

"  What  ?  Where  did  you  find  out  about 
that  man  ?  Who  told  you  about  him  ? 
How's  this  ?  " 

Roland  trembled  all  over,  for  his  father 
seized  him  by  his  shoulders  and  shook 
him. 

"Father!"  he  cried  out  in  a  manly- 
voice,  "I  have  a  free  soul  too!  I  am 
your  son,  but  my  soul  is  free  !  " 

All  were  amazed.  Nothing  more  would 
be  said  about  his  voice  changing. 

Sonnenkamp  let  go  his  hold,  his  breast 
heaving  up  and  down  as  he  panted  violently 
for  breath.    Suddenly  he  exclaimed,  — 

"  I  am  very  glad,  my  son;  that's  noble, 
that's  grand.  You  are  real  young  America. 
It's  right !  fine  !  splendid  !  " 

They  were  struck  with  fresh  amazement. 
This  sudden  change  of  mood  in  Sonnen- 
kamp took  all  present  by  surprise.  But  he 
went  on  in  a  mild  tone,  — 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  were  not  to  be 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


285 


frightened.  You  have  good  pluck  —  it's  all 
right.  Now  tell  me  where  you  found  out 
about  Parker  ?  " 

Roland  gave  a  true  account  of  matters, 
except  that  he  said  nothing  about  Parker's 
name  having  been  mentioned  by  the  Profes- 
sorin when  they  were  making  their  calls 
in  the  town. 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  of  it  to  me?" 
asked  his  father. 

"I  can  keep  a  secret,"  replied  Roland. 
M  You've  tested  me  yourself  on  that  score." 

"That's  true,  my  son;  you  have  justi- 
fied my  confidence." 

"  We  ought  to  have  gone  home  a  long 
time  ago,"  said  the  Major,  and  this  was  the 
signal  for  the  company  to  break  up. 

The  Major  had  never  felt  his  heart  beat 
so  violently,  never  when  stationed  on  some 
exposed  outpost,  never  even  in  battle,  as 
during  the  reading ;  and  yet  it  beat  worse, 
after  the  conversation  had  taken  so  threat- 
ening a  turn. 

He  kept  shaking  his  big  head,  and 
stretching  out  with  his  hands  in  the  air  dep- 
recatingly  and  beseechingly,  as  if  he  would 
say,  — 

"For heaven's  sake,  drop  this  talk!  It's 
not  good,  'twill  only  do  harm  !  " 

Then  he  took  another  look  at  Sonnen- 
kamp, shrugging  up  his  shoulders.  "What 
does  the  man  mean,"  he  thought,  "by  talking 
to  us  in  this  style !  We  wouldn't  put  a 
hair  in  his  path ;  what's  the  use  of  stirring 
us  up  in  this  matter  !  Oh,  Fräulein  Milch 
had  the  right  of  it,  when  she  urged  him  to 
stay  at  home  to-day. 

How  comfortable  it  would  be  to  be  sitting 
in  the  arm-chair,  in  which  Laadi  is  now 
lying  !  And  one  might  have  been  asleep 
two  hours  ago,  and  now  it  will  be  midnight 
before  one  gets  home  !  And  there's  Fräu- 
lein Milch  sitting  up,  and  sitting  up,  till  he 
comes  in.  It  was  like  being  saved,  when 
he  took  out  his  watch,  and  could  say  how 
late  it  was. 

The  Professorin  came  back  at  this  mo- 
ment, and  told  Roland  that  his  mother  wished 
to  see  him.    Roland  went  to  her. 

Eric  accompanied  his  mother  and  the  rest, 
as  they  set  out  for  home  through  the 
snowy  night. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  BIRD  OF  NIGHT  IS  SHOT. 

Eric  walked  in  silence  with  the  ladies. 
The  Mother  spoke  first,  saying,  — 

"  I  am  glad  that  here,  again,  I  have  words 
of  your  father's  to  support  me.  Nothing 
is  more  weakening  and  more  to  be  avoided 
than    repentance,"  he    often    said ;  the 


acknowledgment  that  we  have  made  a  mis- 
take must  come,  quick  and  sharp,  but  then  we 
must  reconcile  ourselves  to  circumstances. 
I  have  deeply  repented  no  matter  how  much 
good  I  may  do,  that  I  have  bound  myself 
to  this  family  so  firmly  that  any  drawing 
back  or  loosening  of  the  ties  is  extremely 
difficult.  But  now  that  it  is  done,  we  must 
endeavor  to  make  everything  turn  out  for 
the  best." 

The  Aunt,  who  spoke  but  little,  added 
how  painful  it  was  that  people  over  whose 
lives  hung  some  dark  crime  were  banished, 
as  it  were,  from  the  kingdom  of  the  spirit, 
and  must  meet  everywhere  with  terrible 
reminders. 

They  went  on  again  for  a  while  in  silence. 
High  above,  from  the  mountain  crest,  they 
heard  the  screech-owl,  the  harbinger  of 
extreme  cold,  uttering  his  dreadful  cry, 
which  rose  and  died  away  with  a  mingled 
tone  of  lamentation  and  of  triumph.  The 
party  stood  still. 

"Ah,"  said  Eric,  "what  trouble  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  has  taken  to  destroy  all  the 
owls  in  the  neighborhood ;  but  he  cannot  do 
it." 

They  walked  on  once  more  without 
speaking.  Everything  seems  a  sign  and  a 
portent  to  an  excited  mood.  Hardly  breath- 
ing the  words  aloud,  the  mother  said  that 
Frau  Ceres'  emotion  was  incomprehensible. 
She  had  thrown  herself  on  her  neck,  sobbing 
and  weeping. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  explain  it,"  she 
continued;  "there  is  some  deep  mystery 
here,  and  it  troubles  me." 

Eric  told  them  of  what  had  passed  among 
the  men,  and  how  Roland,  to  his  alarm,  had 
spoken  of  Parker.  It  was  plain  that  Son- 
nenkamp wished  to  erect  into  a  moral  sys- 
tem the  existing  relations  of  slavery. 

"  Nothing  more  natural,"  answered  the 
Mother.  "  Whoever  stands  in  such  rela- 
tions all  his  life  long,  must  make  something 
for  himself  which  he  calls  moral  principle.  I 
cannot  help  thinking  of  your  father  again  ; 
he  has  shown  me  a  thousand  times  how 
people  cannot  bear  to  confess  to  themselves 
that  their  life  and  actions  are  bad  ;  they  feel 
obliged  to  prop  them  up  with  good  princi- 
ples. Yet,  as  I  said,  we  must  be  quiet,  we 
have  one  good  young  spirit  to  be  led  to 
noble  ends  ;  that  is  our  part.  Whence  it 
sprang,  or  through  what  past  life  it  may 
have  come  to  us,  is  not  for  us  to  determine. 
The  past  is  our  fate,  the  present,  ou»  duty. 
There's  another  saying  of  your  father's  ;  and 
now  good-night." 

With  a  more  composed  mind,  Eric  re- 
turned to  the  villa.  The  owl  had  flown 
from  the  mountain,  and  was  now  perched 


286 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


on  the  top  of  a  tree  in  the  park,  boldly 
sending  forth  its  cry  into  the  air.  Erie 
heard  it,  and  Sonnenkamp  heard  it  in  the 
ante-room  of  his  wife's  chamber.  There 
must  he,  the  father  and  husband,  wait  till 
his  son  came  out,  admittance  having  been 
refused  him  while  his  wife  spoke  to  Roland. 
At  last  the  boy  came  out,  and  his  father 
asked  him  what  his  mother  had  said  :  he  had 
never  done  so  before,  but  now  he  felt  ob- 
liged to  do  it. 

Roland  answered  that  she  had  really  said 
almost  nothing;  she  had  only  kissed  him, 
and  cried,  and  then  asked  him  to  hold  her 
hand  till  she  went  to  sleep,  and  now  she  was 
sleeping  quietly. 

"Give  me  Parker's  book,"  said  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

"I  haven't  got  it  now ;  the  Professorin 
took  it  away  from  me,  and  blamed  me  very 
much  for  having  read  it  secretly,  and  before 
I  was  old  enough." 

"Give  my  regards  to  Herr  Eric;  you 
have  a  better  teacher  than  I  thought,"  said 
the  father. 

Roland  went  to  Eric's  room,  but  he  had 
not  yet  returned. 

The  owl's  cry  was  heard  again  from  the 
tree-top  in  the  park.  Roland  put  out 
the  light,  opened  the  window,  took  his  rifle 
from  the  wall,  fired,  and  the  owl  fell  from  the 
tree.  Roland  ran  down  stairs,  met  Eric, 
and  told  him  that  he  had  hit  the  bird ;  he 
then  hurried  into  the  park  and  brought  the 
creature  in. 

The  whole  house  was  in  alarm.  Frau 
Ceres  was  awakened,  and  her  first  cry  was  : 

"Has  he  killed  himself?" 

Sonnenkamp  and  Roland  had  to  go  to  her 
room  again,  to  show  that  they  were  alive. 
Roland  took  the  dead  owl  with  him,  but  his 
mother  would  not  look  at  it,  and  only  com- 
plained of  having  been  deprived  of  her  sleep. 

The  father  and  the  son  withdrew,  and 
Sonnenkamp  praised  Roland  for  having 
brought  down  the  bird  so  promptly  and 
boldly. 

Eric  went  back  to  his  mother,  who  must 
also  have  been  awakened  by  the  shot,  and 
he  found  her  still  awake  ;  she  too  had  feared 
that  it  had  been  some  suicidal  shot. 

The  whole  house  was  in  a  commotion,  and 
it  was  some  time  before  it  could  be  restored 
to  quiet. 

In  his  pride  at  having  shot  the  owl,  Ro- 
land forgot  everything  else,  and  went  con- 
tentedly to  bed  and  to  sleep. 

But  above  in  the  castle,  and  below  in 
Sonnenkamp's  work-room,  lights  burned 
late.  Eric  sat  gazing  at  the  flame,  and 
strange  forms  moved  confusedly  through 
his  mind.    There  was  Shakespeare's  play, 


there  were  all  the  people  who  had  listened 
to  it ;  but  more  than  all  he  tried  to  enter 
into  Roland's  mind  ;  and  it  seemed  a  fortu- 
nate thing  to  him,  that  the  boy's  love  of 
sport  had  driven  away  all  wondering  spec- 
ulation from  his  mind.  Action,  action  alone 
makes  free.  Where  is  it,  the  great  all-lib- 
erating power  ?  It  does  not  show  itself. 
Independent  of  our  will,  and  of  reflection, 
there  is  a  great  power  in  the  Past  and  in  the 
view  of  God  working  in  it,  which  alone  can 
bring  forth  the  deed.  The  deed  is  not 
ours,  but  to  be  armed  and  ready  is  in  our 
power. 

At  last  Eric  found  rest. 

Sonnenkamp  paced  up  and  down  his  great 
room  like  a  prisoner.  The  lion's  skin  with 
the  stuffed  head  lay  upon  the  floor,  and  the 
eyes  stared  at  him,  till  he  covered  the  head 
with  a  part  of  the  skin.  He  asked  himself 
again  and  again  what  he  ought  to  do.  This 
Herr  Eric  was  teaching  his  son  to  oppose 
him,  and  the  Mother,  who  was  always  re- 
galing them  with  sayings  of  her  husband, 
preserved  in  spirit,  forever  calling  up,  as 
Pranken  says,  her  husband's  wandering 
ghost,  the  departed  Professor  Hamlet  —  no, 
she  was  a  noble  woman. 

But  why  had  he  taken  upon  his  shoulders 
this  beggarly  family,  so  puffed  up  with  their 
own  ideas  ?  He  could  not  shake  them  off, 
without  attracting  attention.  No,  he  would 
make  use  of  them,  and  then  throw  them 
away. 

At  last,  a  happy  resolution  quieted  him. 
We  must  have  new  surroundings,  new  di- 
versions ;  and  then,  straight  to  the  goal ! 
The  day  after  to-morrow  will  be  New  Year's 
day.  On  New  Year's  day  we  will  go  to  the 
capital.  With  this  thought  Sonnenkamp 
also  found  rest  at  last. 

CHAPTER  X. 
PLAYING  COURT. 

The  first  thing  in  the  morning,  Roland 
wanted  to  carry  the  owl,  which  lay  frozen 
outside  his  window,  to  Claus,  who  knew 
how  to  stuff  birds. 

All  the  events  of  the  past  day  seemed  to 
have  vanished  from  his  mind,  leaving  no 
trace,  in  the  joy  he  felt  ir  his  splendid  shot. 

"Stop!"  cried  Roland  suddenly,  as  he 
was  stretching  out  the  owl's  wings,  "  stop; 
I've  just  thought  of  what  a  man  said  to  me 
in  my  dreams ;  he  looked  like  Benjamin 
Franklin,  but  he  was  thinner.  I  dreamed 
that  I  was  going  to  battle ;  the  music  was 
making  a  great  noise,  discordant,  and  bro- 
ken by  shouts,  and  every  now  and  then  the 
man  said  :  "  A  good  name  —  a  good  name" 
—  and  then  there  suddenly  appeared  thou- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


287 


sands  of  black  heads,  nothing  but  black 
heads,  a  perfect  sea  of  them ;  and  they  all 
gnashed  their  teeth,  and  I  woke  up  in  dread- 
ful agony." 

Eric  could  not  answer,  and  Roland  went 
on : — 

"  To-day  is  the  last  day  of  the  year  ;  we 
ought  to  enter  upon  a  wholly  new  world  to- 
morrow ;  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  long  to 
have  it  so." 

Eric  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  brow, 
which  was  feverishly  hot. 

Roland  was  summoned  to  his  mother,  who 
wanted  him  ;  Eric  watched  him  thoughtfully 
as  he  went ;  he  felt  also  that  a  new  page  was 
to  be  turned,  without  knowing  what  it  was 
to  be.  He  looked  towards  the  door,  for  he 
expected  that  Sonnenkamp  would  send  for 
him.  The  man  had  shown  on  the  previous 
day  such  new  and  strange  moods  that  an 
explanation  was  necessary.  What  would  it 
be?  This  could  not  be  guessed.  As  if  in 
a  vision,  Eric  saw  Sonnenkamp  in  his  own 
room,  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  excitement, 
sometimes  bursting  out  violently,  then  calm- 
ing himself  again.  He  heard  the  steps  of 
two  people  approach  his  room.  Roland  en- 
tered, holding  his  father's  hand. 

"  Mother  is  asleep  again,"  he  said,  "  but 
there  is  some  news.  Eric,  we  are  going  to 
the  capital  together,  to  stay  all  winter." 

"  Yes,  I  have  decided  upon  it,"  said  Son- 
nenkamp, in  confirmation,  after  saying  good- 
morning  to  Eric,  "and  I  hope  "that  your 
mother  will  go  with  us." 

With  calm  deliberation,  he  went  on  to  say 
that  gay  society  would  be  good  for  all  of 
them,  alter  the  loneliness  of  their  retired  life 
in  the  country ;  and,  with  a  watchful  look 
at  Eric,  he  added  :  — 

"  We  shall  meet  your  friend  Clodwig,  and 
his  charming  wife,  at  the  capital." 

Eric  looked  at  him  calmly,  and  said  that 
he  should  feel  it  to  be  his  duty  to  meet  all 
of  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  social  acquaintances. 

"  I  have  thought  much  about  last  even- 
ing," began  Sonnenkamp,  seating  himself 
near  Eric.  "  You  are  a  learned  and  also  a 
bold  man." 

His  manner  was  extremely  polite,  almost 
affectionate,  fqr  he  was  inwardly  happy 
when  jie  could  play  the  hypocrite ;  when- 
ever he  could  make  fools  of  all  around  him, 
he  felt  an  elevating  and  sustaining  sat- 
isfaction. He  was  in  such  good  humor 
that'  he  said  to  Eric  :  — 

"  I  hope  to  convert  you  ;  to  make  you  see 
that  the  best  way  of  living  in  the  world  is 
to  hold  yourself  a  stranger  in  it,  and  not  to 
bother  yourself  about  the  immediate  regula- 
tion of  the  affairs  of  state." 

"In  some  respects,"    answered  Eric, 


* '  Aristotle  agreed  with  you  ;  he  lived  gen- 
erally in  Athens,  having  a  sort  of  certificate 
of  residence  without  being;  a  regular  citizen, 
and  without  being  responsible  either  actively 
or  passively  in  the  choice  of  rulers  ;  for  only 
in  this  way,  as  an  alien,  could  he  live  wholly 
in  his  ideas." 

"  I  like  that.  One  is  constantly  hearing 
something  new  and  sensible  of  the  old  phi- 
losophers. Then  Aristotle  was  free  also  to 
go  wherever  he  pleased  ?    That's  good  !  " 

Sonnenkamp  looked  amused.  These 
learned  gentlemen  are  very  convenient; 
they  know  how  to  find  great  historical  rea- 
sons for  what  we  do  selfishly  or  thought- 
lessly. He  smiled  in  a  friendly  way,  and 
his  smile  did  not  disappear,  though  Eric  ex- 
plained that  what  befitted  a  philosopher 
like  Aristotle  very  well  would  not  do  for 
everybody ;  for  if  every  one  were  like  him, 
the  world  could  not  last ;  who  would  under- 
take municipal  and  state  affairs  ? 

Sonnenkamp  still  smiled.  This  German 
pedagogue  is  a  funny  fellow,  he  thought  to 
himself;  the  very  hour  before  starting  on  a 
journey,  he  is  ready  for  a  learned  discussion. 
Looking  extremely  well  pleased,  he  said  to 
Eric :  — 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you;  one 
always  learns  something  of  you  ;  you  are  al- 
ways up  to  the  mark." 

Every  word  was  meant  to  give  a  stab, 
but  Eric  took  it  quite  seriously,  and  was 
grateful  for  the  gratitude  of  Sonnenkamp, 
who  was  inwardly  excessively  diverted  by 
this  man,  so  childishly  unsuspicious  with  all 
his  learning. 

He  desired  Eric  and  Roland  to  make  the 
necessary  preparations  for  the  journey,  and 
then  left  the  room,  a  servant  having  come 
to  say  that  his  gracious  lady  was  ready  to 
see  his  master. 

He  entered  Frau  Ceres'  room.  She 
looked  at  him  languidly  as  he  said  he  was 
glad  she  was  better,  and  that  she  would  be 
able  to  undertake  the  journey  to  the  capital 
on  the  following  day.  In  glowing  colors  he 
represented  the  pleasant  life  in  the  city,  upon 
which  they  had  a  sure  hold  through  the 
family  of  the  Cabinetsrathin,  Count  Wolfs- 
garten  and  his  wife,  and  also  through  Herr 
von  Endlich's  family. 

He  added  in  a  very  confident  tone  :  "  Be 
strong  and  charming,  lovely  Frau  Ceres ; 
you  will  return  to  these  rooms  a  Baroness." 

Frau  Ceres  sat  up,  and  only  mourned 
that  the  dresses  ordered  in  Paris  had  not  yet 
arrived.  Sonnenkamp  promised  to  tele- 
graph directly,  and  promised  also  that  the 
Professorin  should  go  with  them,  so  that 
the  entrance  into  society  could  be  made  un- 
der her  auspices. 


288 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  You  may  kiss  me,11  said  Frau  Ceres. 

Sonnenkamp  did  so,  and  she  said,  — 

"I  think  that  we  shall  all  be  very  happy. 
Ah,  if  I  could  only  tell  you  my  dream,  but 
you  never  like  to  hear  about  dreams,  and  it 
is  better  that  I  should  not  tell  it.  But  there 
was  a  bird  with  great  wings,  enormously 
large,  and  I  was  sitting  on  the  bird,  and 
was  carried  through  the  air;  and  I  was 
ashamed  because  I  was  not  dressed,  and 
all  the  people  below  were  looking  up  at  me, 
and  hooting,  and  shouting,  and  laughing,  and 
then  the  bird  turned  its  head  round,  and  it 
was  the  Professorin,  and  she  said :  You  are 
so  splendidly  dressed !  and  then  I  had  all 
my  ornaments  on,  and  my  lace-trimmed 
satin  dress  —  but  I  know  you  don't  want 
to  hear  my  dream." 

Sonnenkamp  left  the  room  in  good  spir- 
its. The  day  was  bright,  a  keen,  cold, 
sparkling  winter-day,  when  the  whole  land- 
scape, every  rock,  every  tree,  stood  sharply 
out  against  the  blue  sky  ;  the  ice  had  closed 
over  the  Rhine,  and  a  strange  quiet,  like  a 
repressed  breathing,  lay  over  the  whole 
scene. 

Sonnenkamp  was  glad  that  the  bright 
daylight  had  driven  away  all  the  spectres 
of  the  night,  and  brought  fresh  life.  He  im- 
mediately gave  orders  in  the  stable,  that  two 
pairs  of  horses  and  a  second  carriage  should 
be  sent  to  the  capital.  An  hour  afterwards, 
as  he  was  walking  with  Eric  and  Roland  to 
the  vine-clad  cottage,  they  saw  the  horses, 
covered  with  warm  blankets,  on  the  high- 
road, already  on  their  way  to  the  capital. 
Roland  begged  that  his  pony  might  be  sent 
also,  and  permission  was  given ;  then  he 
asked  which  dogs  he  might  take,  and  when 
told  that  only  one  must  go  he  could  not 
decide  which  it  should  be. 

The  Professorin's  large  sitting-room  look- 
ed like  a  yearly  fair ;  on  tables  and  chairs 
lay  great  packages  of  knit  and  woven 
woollen  garments  for  men  and  women. 
Fraulein  Milch  was  reading  from  a  large 
sheet  of  paper  the  names  of  various  needy 
people,  and  a  list  of  the  articles  intended 
for  them,  while  the  Mother  and  the  Aunt 
compared  the  bundles  with  the  list. 

When  this  was  done,  Fräulein  Milch 
called  in  Claus,  with  his  wife  and  daughter, 
and  the  Seven- piper  with  his  whole  family. 
They  were  directed  to  deliver  the  bundles 
to  the  people  to  whom  they  were  addressed, 
and  were  very  ready  to  undertake  the 
work. 

"  It's  very  well  that  you  don't  give  any 
money,"  said  Claus  ;  "  but  there's  something 
wanting." 

"What  is  it?" 


The  entrance  of  Sonnenkamp  and  Roland 
prevented  his  replying. 

Sonnenkamp  expressed  much  pleasure 
with  the  discreet  manner  in  which  his  money 
had  been  used,  and  spoke  a  few  friendly 
words  to  Fräulein  Milch,  whom  he  had  not 
seen  since  the  morning  when  Roland  was 
missing. 

He  asked  for  the  Major,  and  learned  with 
regret  that  he  had  not  been  well  during  the 
night,  and  had  not  slept  till  nearly  morning, 
so  that  he  'was  probably  still  asleep ;  he 
had,  happily,  a  constitution  which  always 
recovered  its  tone  by  sleep. 

The  Professorin  asked  to  be  excused,  as 
she  wished  to  send  off  the  things  before  she 
attended  to  her  early  visitors ;  she  now 
asked  Claus  what  he  meant  by  saying  that 
an  important  thing  was  wanting. 

"Yes,"  said  the  huntsman,  "  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp is  just  the  man  for  it." 

"  For  what?" 

"  I  mean  that  it  is  all  well  and  good  to 
wrap  people  up  and  protect  them  from  the 
cold ;  but  hilarity  and  joy  are  still  lacking, 
and  I  think  something  ought  to  be  done 
about  warming  up  inside,  and  it  wouldn't 
go  amiss  to  send  every  one  of  them  a  bottle 
of  wine.  Every  year  the  people  see  the 
vineyards  before  their  eyes,  and  work  in 
them,  and  most  of  them  don't  ever  drink 
so  much  as  a  single  drop  of  the  wine." 

"Good!"  said  Sonnenkamp.  "Go  to 
the  butler,  and  tell  him  to  put  with  every 
bundle  a  good  bottle  of  last  year's  wine." 

Sonnenkamp  was  in  a  most  lavish  mood, 
for  he  put,  besides,  in  each  bundle  a  gold- 
piece  ;  but  he  almost  spoiled  the  whole  by 
saying  to  Claus,  — 

"You  see  how  much  confidence  I  have 
in  you.  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will 
deliver  it  all  faithfully." 

All  the  huntsman's  jolly  good  humor 
seemed  damped,  but  he  restrained  his 
anger,  and  only  pressed  his  lips  tightly 
together. 

Roland  helped  carry  the  bundles  to  a 
cart  which  was  waiting  before  the  house. 
Sonnenkamp  wanted  to  prevent  him,  but 
the  Mother  made  him  a  sign  to  let  him  do 
it.  With  the  last  package,  Fräulein  Milch 
disappeared. 

In  the  emptied  room  Sonnenkamp  told 
the  Professorin  of  his  plan  of  removing  to 
the  capital,  and  begged  her  to  accompany 
the  family. 

Gratefully,  but  most  positively,  the  Pro- 
fessorin declined ;  and  Sonnenkamp  had 
some  trouble  in  hiding  his  vexation,  when 
he  found  that  no  persuasions  could  change 
her  decision.    He  took  leave  politely,  but 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


289 


out  of  humor,  and  Roland  promised  to 
leave  Griffin  with  her  as  a  guard. 

The  Professorin  felt  that  the  boy  wanted 
to  be  doing  something  for  her  while  he  was 
away,  and  to  sacrifice  for  her  something 
which  he  cared  for. 

"  Life  will  go  well  with  you.11  she  said,  as 
she  pressed  his  hand. 

Roland  felt  a  thrill  through  his  whole 
being ;  he  had  received  pne  of  the  holiest 
of  blessings,  though  it  was  given  in  such 
simple  words. 

The  Professorin  had  promised  to  come 
that  evening  to  the  villa,  where  they  were 
all  to  watch  out  the  old  year. 

When  she  came,  she  found  great  black 
chests  in  the  hall ;  in  Frau  Ceres1  parlor 
all  the  chairs  were  covered  with  clothes, 
and  Frau  Ceres  was  as  happy  as  a  child, 
directing  everything  with  an  activity  never 
seen  in  her  before.  At  last  they  all  re- 
paired to  the  dining-room  and  sat  down  to 
tea. 

All  felt  that  a  great  break  had  come  in 
their  life ;  while  the  conversation  went  on 
easily  and  continually  no  one  noticed  the 
time,  and  all  believed  that  it  would  be  very 
hard  work  to  keep  awake  till  midnight. 
The  Professorin  felt  the  strain,  the  haunting 
ghost,  if  one  may  so  call  it,  of  the  impend- 
ing separation  ;  they  were,  in  fact,  no  longer 
here,  no  longer  together.  She  said  more  of 
this  than  she  really  meant  to,  and  told  them 
of  her  entrance  into  the  great  world. 

Frau  Ceres  was  very  attentive,  and  kept 
begging  her  to  go  on.  Suddenly  she  rose 
and  asked  her  husband  to  leave  the  room 
with  her.  Sonnenkamp  soon  reappeared, 
and  begged  the  Professorin  to  do  his  dear 
little  wife  a  favor.  She  declared  herself 
quite  ready ;  and  it  seemed  she  was  to  play 
the  Princess,  Eric  the  Court-Marshal,  Son- 
nenkamp the  Prince,  and  Aunt  Claudine 
the  Mistress  of  Ceremonies.  The  Aunt 
resisted  the  arrangement,  and  blushed  deep- 
ly ;  but  the  Professorin  persuaded  her,  and 
managed  to  make  her  take  the  role  of  the 
Princess. 

After  a  little  waiting,  the  folding-doors 
were  opened.  Eric  stood  at  the  door  with 
a  wand,  and  led  Frau  Ceres,  who  glittered 
and  beamed  in  diamonds  and  pearls,  to  the 
throne  of  the  Aunt. 

The  Aunt  condescendingly  dropped  very 
slightly  the  fan  which  she  held,  and  Frau 
Ceres  made  a  truly  courtly  reverence. 

"  Come  nearer,"  said  the  Aunt.  "It  is 
very  good  in  you  to  take  up  your  abode  in 
our  country.1' 

"  It  was  my  husband's  wish,11  answered 
Frau  Ceres. 


"  Your  honored  husband  is  very  benevo- 
lent.11 

"  I  thank  you,11  replied  Frau  Ceres. 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place,11  exclaimed  Son- 
nenkamp, "  I  would  say,  Your  Highness, 
it  is  our  duty,  and  we  are  highly  rewarded 
for  it  by  its  meeting  your  gracious  notice.11 

"Please  write  that  out  for  me,  I  will 
learn  it,11  said  Frau  Ceres,  turning  to  her 
husband.  She  seemed  to  have  grown 
younger,  and  her  cheeks  glowed. 

The  Professorin  was  extremely  animated, 
and  after  saying :  "I  am  your  Mistress  of 
Ceremonies,11  she  led  Frau  Ceres  to  a  seat. 

"  No,  not  so,  — you  must  look  after  your 
train  a  little,  and  spread  it  out  handsomely. 
So,  —  thatfs  right,  and  then  open  your  fan, 
you  have  the  right  to  open  it  now,  but  not 
before.  It  is  best  to  have  it  hung  to  your 
wrist  by  a  small  cord ;  it  falls  so  easily.11 

The  jesting  went  on  merrily  ;  when  twelve 
o'clock  struck,  Roland  cried :  — 

"  Father,  now  your  health  is  being  drunk 
by  hundreds  of  people." 

Sonnenkamp  kissed  his  son,  Frau  Ceres 
kissed  the  Professorin,  then  bent  her  head 
and  waited  calmly  for  a  kiss  on  her  brow 
from  her  husband.  Outside,  the  bells  rang, 
and  guns  were  fired. 

"Welcome  to  the  New  Year!  to  fresh 
life ! 11  cried  Eric,  as  his  pupil  gratefully 
kissed  the  hand  which  grasped  his  own. 

In  the  neighborhood  of  the  villa,  there 
was  much  noise  of  guns  and  shouting ;  and 
Sonnenkamp  was  quite  indignant  that  the 
good  German  police  should  allow  such 
doings  ;  it  was  nothing  but  rude  vulgarity. 

Eric  said,  on  the  other  hand  :  — 

"  We  can  find  in  this  inharmonious  noise, 
if  we  consider  it  psychologically,  an  ex- 
pression of  joy.  Without  knowing  it  him- 
self, the  insignificant  man  who  fires  off 
a  pistol,  takes  pleasure  in  the  sense  of  sur- 
prise that  he  can  produce  an  effect  so  far 
off,  and  that  so  many  people  must  notice 
what  he  does.  So  this  custom,  barbarous 
in  itself,  is  to  be  explained ;  it  gives  force 
to  the  human  voice,  you  see,  to  the  vocifer- 
ous shouting.11 

Sonnenkamp  smiled,  and  Eric  was  glad 
that  he  had  brought,  not  his  pupil  alone, 
but  the  father  also,  to  a  gentler  view  of 
humanity. 

But  Sonnenkamp  thought :  This  walking 
university,  these  ready  catechetical  answers 
on  every  subject,  begin  to  grow  a  little 
tedious  ;  it  is  well  that  we  are  going  into  a 
wider  circle. 

Then  he  smiled,  and  bade  Eric  and 
Roland  a  cheerful  good-night. 

Warmly  wrapped  in  furs  and  attended  by 


290 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


two  servants,  the  Professorin  and  the  Aunt 
returned  to  their  own  house  ;  and  soon  all 
was  still,  and  every  one  dreaming  of  the 
New  Year. 


CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  ICE  BREAKS  UP. 

In  the  morning,  when  Eric  and  Roland 
were  saying  good-by  at  the  green  cottage, 
a  message  came  from  Fräulein  Milch  to 
offer  herself  and  the  Major  that  day,  as  visit- 
ors to  the  Professorin. 

The  Professorin  praised  to  aunt  Claudine 
the  tact  of  the  housekeeper,  who  evidently 
felt  that  they  would  be  lonely  on  that  day. 

It  was  snowing  steadily,  and  from  her 
closed  window  the  Mother  made  a  sign  of 
farewell  to  her  son  and  to  Roland,  who 
drove  by  in  the  first  carriage,  and  after- 
wards to  Herr  Sonnenkamp  and  Fräulein 
Perini,  who  bowed  from  their  carnage : 
Frau  Ceres  lay  in  the  corner,  closely 
wrapped  up,  and  did  not  move. 

The  Major  and  Fräulein  Milch  soon 
arrived.  The  Major  kept  himself  under 
strict  military  discipline,  and  allowed  no 
slight  indisposition  to  change  his  stiff  bear- 
ing ;  he  was  rather  hoarse,  and  could  say 
even  less  than  usual,  but  he  offered  the  con- 
gratulations of  the  New  Year  to  the  ladies 
with  as  much  cordiality  as  formality. 

"  This  year,"  he  said,  "  will  complete  the 
fifty  years  that  we  have  lived  together." 

He  pointed  to  Fräulein  Milch,  and 
his  hand  said,  Not  a  better  creature  walks 
the  earth.  But  his  looks  said  still  more, 
which  was  not  so  easily  understood. 

They  had  a  very  cheerful  dinner,  and 
Fräulein  Milch  told  them  how  many  plea- 
sant things  she  had  already  heard  about  the 
valuable  presents,  in  the  various  houses. 

The  Major  forced  himself  to  master  his 
indisposition,  to  be  fit  ^  company  for  the 
three  ladies  ;  he  praised  the  Professorin  for 
knowing  how  to  make  such  excellent  soup, 
though  she  was  such  a  learned  lady. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  laughed,  "  Pve  really 
had  to  force  Herr  Sonnenkamp  to  have 
soup  at  his  table.  You  see,  if  I  had  to  go 
a  day  without  soup,  I  should  feel  as  if  I 
were  wearing  my  boots  without  stockings  ; 
the  lower  story  of  the  stomach  is  cold." 

They  laughed  at  this  comparison,  and  the 
Major  thus  encouraged,  continued:  — 

"Yes,  Frau  Professorin,  you  know  every- 
thing ;  can  you  tell  me  how  it  is  that  though 
this  day  is  just  like  yesterday,  we  feel  that 
there's  something  peculiar  about  it  because 
it's  New  Year's  Day  ?  I  feel  as  if  I'd  put 
on  clean  clothes  for  the  whole  year." 


Again  there  was  a  general  laugh,  and  the 
Major  chuckled,  well  pleased  ;  he  had  done 
his  part,  now  he  could  leave  the  others  to 
themselves. 

After  dinner,  the  Professorin  insisted 
that  the  Major  must  take  his  nap  ;  she  had 
had  the  library  warmed  on  purpose,  and  the 
Major  was  not  a  little  proud  that  he  was  to 
sleep  in  the  arm-chair  there. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  1  can  sleep  as  well  as 
the  best  Professor ;  but  so  many  books,  so 
many  books !  it's  frightful  to  think  that  a 
man  can  read  them  all !  I  don't  understand 
how  it's  possible." 

The  Major  slept  the  sleep  of  the  right- 
eous ;  but  he  would  have  had  no  rest  if  he 
could  have  guessed  what  was  passing  be- 
tween the  ladies. 

Fräulein  Milch  sat  at  the  window  by  the 
Professorin,  who  listened  in  astonishment 
as  the  simple  housekeeper  said  how  strange 
it  was  that  Eric  should  have  consented  to 
read  the  harrowing  drama  of  Othello ;  the 
Major  had  been  driven  almost  crazy  by  it, 
and,  besides,  there  were  so  many  points  in 
it  which  could  not  be  touched  upon  in  the 
family. 

"Do  you  know  the  play?"  asked  Frau 
Dournay. 

"Indeed  I  do,"  replied  Fräulein  Milch, 
her  whole  face  flushing  to  her  very  cap-bor- 
der. Then,  to  the  Professorin' s  surprise, 
she  went  on  to  remark  upon  the  poet's 
wonderful  stroke  of  art  in  placing  the 
young  married  pair  on  the  island  of  Cyprus, 
where  strong  wine  is  produced  and  drunk, 
not  always  in  moderation  ;  for  in  that  soli- 
tude, and  under  that  hot  sun,  wild,  burn- 
ing passions  were  fostered,  too.  The 
greater  the  happiness  of  a  fondly  loving 
pair  on  such  an  island,  the  more  miserable 
would  they  be  if  any  discord  rose  between 
them. 

The  Professorin  listened  as  if  a  new  per- 
son were  speaking,  whom  she  had  never 
known  before ;  but  she  said  nothing  of  her 
thoughts,  only  asking  :  — 

"Do  you  think  then  that  the  play  was 
unsuitable  to  have  been  read  there  because 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  has  been  a  slave-hold- 
er ?  " 

"  I  would  rather  not  say  more  about  it," 
said  Fräulein  Milch  evasively.  "  I  do  not 
like  to  talk  about  the  man  ;  it  rejoices  me,  — 
no,  that  isn't  the  right  word,  — it  makes  me 
easier  that  he  scarcely  notices  me,  and 
seems  to  think  me  too  insignificant  to  be 
looked  at.  I  am  not  angry  with  him  for  it, 
but  rather  grateful,  because  it  is  not  neces- 
sary for  me  to  look  at  him ;  and  friendliness 
towards  him  would  be  hypocrisy." 

"  But  you  must  not  turn  me  off  in  that 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


291 


way.    Can't  you  tell  me  why  you  thought 
it  unsuitable  lor  being  read  ?  " 
"  I  cannot." 

Aunt  Claudine,  thinking  she  saw  that 
Fräulein  Milch  had  something  to  tell  which 
was  not  for  her  to  hear,  quietly  left  the 
room. 

"Now  we  are  quite  alone,1'  said  the 
Professorin,  "  you  can  tell  me  every  thing. 
Shall  I  assure  you  that  I  can  keep  a  se- 
cret ?  " 

"Oh,  I  am  only  sorry  that  I  have  gone 
so  far,11  stammered  Fräulein  Milch,  drawing 
her  cap-strings  through  her  fingers.  "  It  is 
the  first  time  for  fifty  years  that  I  have  paid 
a  visit,  or  eaten  at  a  strangers  table;  I 
ought  not  to  have  done  it ;  I  have  not  yet 
gained  self-control  enough.11 

Her  face  quivered,  and  her  brown  eyes 
glowed. 

"  I  thought  that  you  looked  on  me  as  a 
friend,11  said  the  Professorin,  holding  out 
her  hand. 

,  "  Yes,  so  I  do,11  cried  Fräulein  Milch, 
seizing  the  hand  with  both  her  own,  and 
pressing  it  with  fervor.  "  You  cannot  tell 
how  I  thank  God  for  having  granted  me 
this  before  my  death  ;  since  I  devoted  myself 
to  him,  I  have  renounced  all  the  world  ;  you 
are  the  first  —  oh,  I  think  you  must  know 
all,  you  need  be  told  nothing.11 

"  I  do  not  know  all.  What  do  you  know 
of  Herr  Sonnenkamp  ?  11 

Fräulein  Milch  hung  her  head  sadly,  then 
put  both  hands  before  her  face,  crying,  — 

"  Why  must  I  tell  you  ?  11 

Then  she  rose,  put  her  mouth  to  the  Pro- 
fessorin's  ear,  and  whispered  something. 
Frau  Dournay  threw  her  head  back,  and 
grasped  the  sewing-machine,  which  stpod 
before  her,  with  both  hands.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken.  Outside,  all  was  still,  except 
for  the  cawing  of  a  flock  of  crows  which 
were  hovering  over  the  Rhine. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  would  tell  me  such 
a  thing  on  a  mere  rumor,11  said  the  Profes- 
sorin at  last.  "  Go  on,  and  tell  me  plainly 
how  you  learned  it.11 

Fräulein  Milch  looked  round  timidly,  and 
answered :  — 

"  I  have  it  from  the  most  trustworthy  of 
men,  whose  nephew  has  sent  a  child  here  to 
be  educated ;  he  knows  the  name  which 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  formerly  bore,  and  all 
about  his  past  life.  But,  dear,  noble  lady, 
why  should  not  a  man  be  able  to  take  up  a 
different  life,  a  new  existence,  whatever  he 
may  have  done  ?  11 

"Of  that  another  time,11  interrupted 
Frau  Dournay ;  "  tell  me  the  name  of  the 
man  who  has  told  you  this.11 


"So  be  it  then.  It  was  Herr  Weid- 
mann.11 

The  Professorin  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands.  "  What  are  you  saying  of  Herr 
Weidmann  ? 11  asked  the  Major,  entering 
suddenly.  "  I  can  tell  you,  Frau  Profes- 
sorin, that  any  one  who  doesn't  know  that 
man,  doesn1t  know  one  of  the  best  and 
truest  men  in  the  world.  He's  one  of  God's 
masterpieces,  and  God  himself  must  have 
satisfaction  in  him ;  every  day,  when  He 
looks  down  from  heaven,  he  must  say :  The 
world  isn't  yet  so  bad,  for  down  yonder  I 
have  my  Weidmann  ;  he  is  a  man  —  a  genu- 
ine man.  Everything  is  included  in  that, 
there's  nothing  more  to  be  said.11 

Both  women  felt  a  sense  of  relief  in  the 
entrance  of  the  Major,  who  now  prepared 
to  go  home  with  Fräulein  Milch.  After 
they  had  gone  a  few  steps,  the  Professorin 
called  Fräulein  Milch  back,  and  asked  in  a 
whisper,  — 

"  Does  the  Major  know,  too  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,  he  could  not  bear  it.  Forgive 
me  for  having  laid  such  a  burden  on  you. 
Believe  me  that  it  is  not  made  lighter  to 
me,  but  heavier." 

The  guests  departed ;  and  soon  after,  the 
postman  brought  a  letter  from  tthe  Univer- 
sity-town. Professor  Einsiedel,  who  for 
twenty  years  had  brought  his  New  Year's 
greeting  to  Frau  Dournay,  did  not  choose 
to  fail  in  it  to-day ;  they,  were  cordial  and 
significant  words  which  he  wrote,  but  they 
seemed  to  come  from  a  different  world. 
Twice  she  read  the  postscript,  for  there  was 
a  greeting  for  Eric,  with  the  message,  that 
the  Professor  would  soon  send  him  a  book 
on  slavery  which  was  announced  as  just 
published ;  and  he  added  the  exhortation 
that  Eric  should  finish  his  work  within  the 
new  year. 

The  Professorin  looked  thoughtfully  at 
the  words.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Eric  had 
never  spoken  to  her  of  any  such  work.  She 
passed  her  hand  through  the  air  before  her 
brow,  as  if  she  would  drive  away  every 
strange  thought.  A  recollection  rose  with- 
in her.  This  very  morning  she  had  been 
expressing  her  sorrow  to  Aunt  Claudine 
that  she  could  no  longer  dispense  any  char- 
ity of  her  own,  though  it  was  the  duty  of 
every  one  to  give  from  his  own  store. 
What  she  did  seemed  nothing ;  only  the 
gifts  seemed  of  importance.  Almost  invol- 
untarily, she  opened  the  box  in  which  lay 
the  money  that  Sonnenkamp  had  intrusted 
to  her.  How  could  she  say  in  future  to 
those  who  received  it :  You  must  not  thank 
me,  but  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 
I     She  collected  herself,  and  went  to  the  li- 


292 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


brary,  where  she  stood  gazing  out  of  the 
window.  It  seemed  as  if  something  were 
actually  gnawing  at  her  heart.  In  spite  of 
inward  reluctance,  she  had  allowed  herself 
to  be  brought  into  these  relations,  and  her 
power  of  clear  and  intelligent  perception 
seemed  clouded. 

Down  the  river  there  was  a  heavy  roar, 
with  a  sharp  cracking  sound,  as  if  a  new 
world  were  opening;  the  ice  had  broken  up. 
Great  blocks  were  floating  down  the  stream. 
They  were  hurled  against  each  other,  turned 
over,  crushed  into  fragments,  brought  to- 
gether again,  and  floated  on.    Every  block, 


large  and  small,  was  crowned  with  a  wreath 
of  snow,  formed  by  the  icy  splinters  that 
were  ground  to  powder  and  thrown  on  top 
by  the  breaking  up ;  the  fragments  floated 
down  the  river  so  swiftly  that  one  realized, 
for  the  first  time,  how  rapid  and  strong  the 
current  always  is.  x 

The  sun  set  in  a  glowing  sky  across  the 
Rhine ;  half  aloud,,  the  Professorin  said  to 
herself :  — 

"  This  first  day  of  the  year,  which  is  now 
declining,  has  brought  me  a  terrible  experi- 
ence ;  it  must  be  borne,  and  turned  to  some 
good  end." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


293 


BOOK  IX.     CHAPTER  I. 
ARRIVAL,  AT  THE  VICTORIA. 

A  line  of  carriages  was  standing  in  front 
of  the  Hotel  Victoria  in  the  capital ;  multi- 
tudes of  sparrows  were  fluttering  about 
them  while  the  drivers  stood. together  in 
groups,  or  walked  to  and  fro,  bandying  jests 
with  one  another,  and  beating  their  arms 
across  their  chest  to  keep  off  the  cold. 

The  sparrows  quarreled  together,  and 
after  picking  up  all  the  crumbs  they  could 
find,  took  their  flight.  The  drivers  had 
exhausted  their  jokes  and  lapsed  into  si- 
lence. What  more  could  be  said  and  done 
on  a  winters  afternoon  in  the  snowy,  de- 
serted streets  of  the  capital  ?  Everything 
is  as  still  as  the  blessed  prince  whose  stone 
image  stands  on  the  great  column,  with  a 
cap  of  snow  on  his  head  and  snow  epaulettes 
on  his  shoulders.  The  parade  is  over,  the 
officials  are  sitting  in  their  offices,  and  the 
shutters  of  the  Casino  are  closed  for  the  bet- 
ter enjoyment  of  the  cards  by  lamp-light. 
There  is  a  change  of  guards  at  Prince  Leon- 
hard's  palace,  over  the  way ;  the  soldiers 
wear  large  cloaks,  and  carry  pistols.  The 
man  released  from  duty  whispers  something, 
which  seems  to  be  of  no  great  moment  to  the 
one  who  succeeds  him.  An  official  messen- 
ger carrying  a  bundle  of  papers  comes 
along,  meets  a  court-lackey  wrapped  in  a 
long  coat  that  almost  touches  the  ground  ; 
exchanges  a  pinch  of  snuff  with  him,  and 
passes  on.  Such  is  the  life  of  a  small  capi- 
tal on  a  winter's  afternoon. 

But  now  wide  awake !  there  is  something 
going  on.  A  great  stir  began  among  the 
coachmen,  and  up  came  the  courier  Lootz, 
with  a  wagon  load  of  trunks. 

Now  there  was  abundant  material  for 
conversation.  It  was  fine  to  have  this 
"Gold-nugget,  the  King  of  California, "  come 
to  the  capital. 

"  Run  up  to  your  father,  the  bell-ringer, 
and  tell  him  to  set  all  his  bells  going,1'  cried 
one. 

"  Give  me  a  drink  that  I  may  shout  a 
good  huzza,1'  said  another.  "  Now  begins 
a  merry  winter  for  us.  Gold-nugget  will 
scatter  more  money  than  three  princes,  and 
seventeen  counts,  with  seven  barons  into  the 
bargain." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  something,11  chimed  in 
a  third.  "  Letfs  send  a  deputation  to  him 
when  he  arrives  ;  he  will  do  it,  he  is  just  the 
fellow  for  it.    I've  a  plan.11 

"  Out  with  your  plan.11 

The  man  thus  addressed,  —  a  little  hump- 
back, with  intelligent,  cunning  eyes,  —  kept 
his  comrades  in  suspense  for  a  while,  and 
then  said,  — 


"  We  will  petition  Herr  Sonnenkamp  to 
give  every  coachman  a  daily  pint  of  wine. 
He  will  do  it,  you  see  if  he  doesn^.  If  I 
had  seventy  millions,  I  would  do  it  too.11 

A  broad-shouldered,  somewhat  disreputa- 
ble-looking coachman  said,  — 

"I  have  been  a  hotel-keeper  myself;  I 
know  what  that  means.  The  landlord  of 
the  Victoria  has  got  ä  winter  guest  who 
will  keep  the  house  warm,  and  the  wheels 
well  greased." 

Within  the  hotel,  meanwhile,  were  none 
but  smiling  faces.  Even  the  handsome 
landlady  was  handsomer  than  ever  to-day, 
as  she  took  a  final  survey  of  the  sumptuous 
suite  of  rooms  on  the  first  floor,  and  found 
that  all  was  in  order,  only  a  covering  here 
and  there  still  remaining  to  be  spread. 
The  feet  of  the  butlers,  waiters,  and  maids, 
as  they  hurried  to  and  fro,  made  no  sound 
on  the  thick,  soft  carpets.  The  gorgeous 
silk  furniture  glistened  and  gleamed,  as  if 
grateful  at  being  freed  from  its  mourning 
wrappers,  and  allowed  to  show  itself  to  the 
light. 

Lootz  was  full  of  business  ;  he  seemed 
bent  upon  trying  every  kind  of  sitting-place  ; 
now  one  chair  and  now  another,  here  a  sofa 
and  there  a  lounge,  he  ordered  to  be  differ- 
ently arranged.  Even  the  beds  he  appeared 
disposed  to  test,  but  contented  himself  with 
pressing  the  springs  up  and  down  a  little. 
One  blue  silk  boudoir,  that  opened  on  a 
charming  balcony,  he  re-arranged  entirely 
with  great  skill  and  excellent  taste. 

All  was  at  last  ready. 

When  evening  came  on,  the  whole  long 
suite  of  rooms  was  illuminated ;  all  the 
burners  in  the  chandeliers,  on  the  tables, 
and  on  the  mantles  being  lighted.  The 
entrance  hall  was  decked  with  flowers. 
Now  they  might  come. 

The  head-butler,  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth, 
stepped  into  the  streets  and  surveyed  the 
row  of  windows  with  great  satisfaction ; 
but  with  still  greater,  did  he  look  across  the 
streets  at  the  residence  of  the  Crown-prince, 
where  all  was  dark  and  deserted ;  how 
jealous  they  will  be  there  ! 

A  carriage  drove  up  full  of  the  servants 
of  the  establishment,  men  and  women,  then 
another,  in  which  were  Eric  and  Roland, 
and  finally  appeared  a  coach  drawn  by  four 
horses.  Bertram  drew  up  at  the  door,  and 
out  stepped  Herr  Sonnenkamp  followed  by 
Fraulein  Perini,  and  lastly  by  Frau  Ceres, 
enveloped  in  the  costliest  furs. 

The  coachmen  before  the  house  forgot 
their  agreement,  and  raised  no  cheers  for 
Sonnenkamp.  Amidst  utter  silence  he  and 
his  family  entered  the  vestibule,  where  the 
bearded  porter  in  a  laced  coat  and  broad- 


294 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


brimmed  hat  presented  his  silver-headed 
cane.  He  stood  motionless  as  a  statue  ;  only 
his  eyes  sparkled.  His  face  assumed  a  satis- 
fied expression  as  they  ascended  the  warmed, 
lighted,  and  flower-hung  stair-case.  Frau 
Ceres  was  not  in  good  humor,  having  slept 
almost  the  whole  way ;  she  sat  down  before 
the  open  grate,  and  consented  after  a  while 
to  have  her  furs  taken  off. 

Sonnenkamp  inspected  all  the  rooms,  say- 
ing, when  he  came  to  those  intended  for 
Roland  and  Eric,  — 

"  All  the  comforts  of  this  world  have 
their  price ;  those  who  have  nothing  must 
turn  coachmen,  and  freeze  down  there,  wait- 
ing for  a  passenger.11 

He  returned  to  his  wife's  boudoir,  where 
Frau  Ceres  was  still  sitting  motionless  on  a 
luxurious  seat  before  the  fire. 

"  What  shall  we  do  to-day?11  she  asked 
languidly. 

"  There  is  still  time  to  go  to  the  thea- 
tre." 

"  Dress  myself  over  again  ?    I  wonH.1' 

Here,  happily,  the  Cabinetsrathin  was 
announced. 

She  was  greeted  with  words  of  welcome, 
and  very  welcome  she  was.  She  apologized 
for  not  having  been  on  the  spot  to  receive 
her  dear  friends  and  neighbors  upon  their 
arrival,  as  she  had  intended,  but  a  visit  from 
Countess  Graben  had  detained  her.  They 
thanked  her,  and  were  enchanted  at  her 
obliging  politeness. 

Eric  and  Roland  were  summoned  to  re- 
ceive the  Cadet,  who  had  come  also. 

"  Where  is  your  mother?11  inquired  the 
Cabinetsrathin.  "  She  is  coming  presently, 
I  hope?  11 

Eric  did  not  answer,  and  Sonnenkamp 
quietly  interposed,  saying  that  the  Frau 
Professorin  was  unwilling  to  give  up  her 
country-life. 

"That  will  cause  general  regret,"  re- 
turned the  Cabinetsrathin.  smiling  as  if  she 
were  saying  something  very  amusing.  "  All 
the  beau-monde  are  depending  upon  having 
this  amiable,  witty,  universally  esteemed 
lady  another  season  among  them." 

"  She  must  come,11  said  Frau  Ceres. 

Sonnenkamp  was  sorely  vexed.  Did  the 
whole  glory  of  his  house  depend  upon  the 
esteem  in  which  this  woman  was  held  ? 

His  displeasure  was  increased  by  the 
lady's  adding  in  a  confidential  tone,  — 

"The  accomplishment  of  our  beautiful 
and  noble  plan  will  be  much  hindered  and 
delayed  by  the  absence  of  the  Frau 
Professorin,  nee  von  Burgholz,11  as  she 
always  took  pains  to  add.  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp would  hardly  be  able  to  draw  the 
best  society  to  his  house,  she  thought, 


without  the  lady's  presence,  adding,  with 
what  she  meant  for  an  expression  of  great 
modesty,  that  she  should  spare  no  exertions 
on  her  own  part,  but  that  she  could  not 
accomplish  nearly  as  much  as  the  Frau  Pro- 
fessorin neh  von  Burgholz. 

The  numerous  lights  in  the  great  draw- 
ing-room appeared  to  Sonnenkamp^  eyes 
to  burn  less  brightly ;  he  had  sufficient  self- 
control,  however,  not  to  betray  the  extent 
of  his  vexation. 

The  Cadet  proposed  that  Roland  should 
take  part  in  a  quadrille,  which  was  to  be 
performed  on  horseback  by  the  first  nobles 
of  the  court,  towards  the  end  of  the  month  ; 
in  the  royal  riding-ring  he  could  find  a 
place  as  squire  among  the  other  citizen 
cadets,  and  engage  in  some  of  the  evolu- 
tions. 

Roland  was  delighted  at  the  idea,  but 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  cut  the  matter  short  by 
saying,  — 

"  No  !  you  will  take  no  part." 

He  did  not  give  any  reason ;  there  was 
no  need  to  say  that  he  did  not  choose  to 
have  his  son  make  his  first  appearance 
among  the  common  people  admitted  on  suf- 
ferance. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  had  plenty  of  court 
news  to  tell,  such  as  who  had  already  given 
entertainments,  and  whose  balls  were  still 
to  come  off,  besides  many  a  piquant  bit  of 
gossip,  only  half  told  on  account  of  the 
presence  of  the  children.  The  betrothal 
of  the  eldest  son  of  Herr  von  Endlich, 
whose  superb  house  was  so  famous,  was 
soon  to  be  celebrated,  though  there  was 
reason  to  fear  that  tidings  of  death  would 
soon  be  received  from  Madeira,  whither  the 
young  pair  had  gone  who  were  married'  in 
the  summer. 

The  Cadet  invited  Roland  to  go  with  him 
to  the  theatre  that  evening,  to  see  a  grand 
ballet. 

Eric  looked  in  embarrassment  at  Sonnen- 
kamp, who  however  said,  — 

"  Certainly;  go,  Roland." 

For  the  first  time  Eric  saw  his  pupil  led 
away  from  him,  and  taken  to  a  place  of 
entertainment,  among  a  class  of  people, 
whither  he  could  not  accompany  him.  His 
heart  trembled. 

Roland  had  asked  that  Eric  might  go  too, 
but  the  Cadet  explained  that  there  were  no 
more  places  to  be  had  ;  it  was  with  great 
difficulty  that  he  had  been  able  to  secure 
one  for  his  friend.  So  Roland  departed, 
saying  to  Eric  as  he  went,  — 

"  I  shall  come  back  to  you  as  soon  as  it 
is  over." 

Eric  became  more  tranquil.  He  could 
not  prevent  Roland^  falling  into  company, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


295 


and  receiving  impressions,  which  threat- 
ened the  subversion  of  all  his  noble  ten- 
dencies. He  could  only  trust  that  his  will 
and  his  conscience  might  be"  strong  enough 
to  withstand  the  danger. 

Half  with  pride  and  half  with  regret,  the 
Cabinetsrathin  told  of  her  son's  precocity 
and  cunning  in  the  pursuit  of  adventures, 
and  lamented  almost  in  the  same  breath 
that  Manna  should  be  passing  this  brilliant 
season  in  the  solitude  of  the  convent ;  it 
would  have  been  so  pleasant  for  her,  together 
with  Frau  Ceres,  to  introduce  such  a  lovely 
girl  into  society. 

Sonnenkamp  replied  that  next  winter 
would  be  time  enough  for  that. 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  FIRST  NIGHT  IN  THE  CAPITAL. 

Eric  soon  withdrew ;  he  went  to  his 
chamber,  but  found  no  rest.  Here  he  was, 
in  the  city  where  he  had  been  born  and 
brought  up,  living  in  a  strange  hotel,  and 
in  the  service  of  a  stranger.  He  quickly 
fought  down  these  reflections  and  the  weak- 
ness they  engendered,  and  wrote  a  letter  to 
his  mother  announcing  their  arrival,  and 
begging  her  to  let  no  persuasions  induce 
her  to  come  to  the  capital.  He  took  the 
letter  to  the  post  himself,  and  spent  some 
time  in  wandering  through  the  quiet, 
deserted  streets  of  the  little  capital.  He 
knew  every  house  in  them.  Here  and 
there  lived  some  companion  of  his  youth, 
some  family  friends ;  what  relations  he 
should  hold  to  them  now  he  could  not  tell. 

He  passed  the  great  building  where  the 
antique  relics  were  kept,  and  for  a  moment 
allowed  himself  to  fancy  what  his  position 
would  have  been,  if  he  had  received  the 
post  of  director  here. 

He  walked  restlessly  to  and  fro,  and 
finally  entered  a  beer-house,  took  his  place 
in  a  corner,  and  listened  to  the  talk  of  the 
men,  who,  with  long  pipes  in  their  mouths, 
were  laughing  at  each  other's  poor  jokes, 
and  discussing  matters  of  afl  kinds. 

His  attention  was  roused  by  the  mention 
of  Sonnenkamp's  name ;  a  stout,  red-faced 
man  was  saying,  — 

"  I  must  begin  now  to  take  my  very  best 
meat  10  the  Victoria,  for  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
knows  what  is  good.11 

A  printer  whom  Eric,  recognized  said, 
"Our  editor,  Professor  Crutius,  declares 
that  he  knows  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  but  he 
isn't  willing  to  tell  us  anything  about  him.11 

Erie's  interest  was  still  further  excited. 
The  men  went  on  to  tell  of  the  immense 
jum  daily  paid  to  the  landlord  of  the  Vic- 
toria, then  of  Sonnenkamp's  reported  pur- 


chase of  the  Rabenecke  palace,  and  of  his 
admission  to  the  ranks  of  the  nobility  as 
being  a  thing  as  good  as  settled.  Here 
some  remarks  were  made,  in  too  low  a  tone 
for  Eric  to  catch,  which  raised  a  general 
laugh. 

"  I  call  you  to  witness,11  said  a  stout  man 
whom  Eric  recognized  as  a  flour-dealer  and 
baker,  "  that  I  say  now  this  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp is  sent  on  a  secret  mission .  The  young 
nobles  in  the  South  want  an  emperor,  and 
this  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  designs  to  aim 
higher,  perhaps,  than  any  of  us  imagine." 

"  Then  you  can  go  with  him  and  be  court- 
baker,11  said  one,  whose  rejoinder  was 
received  with  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"What's  that  to  us?"   said  another; 
"  the  man  brings  plenty  of  money  into  the 
country.    If  a  hundred  of  them  came,  I 
don't  care  what  they  are  after,  as  long  as 
'  they  bring  us  their  money." 

The  speaker  was  a  short,  round-bodied 
'  little  man  with  a  great  meerschaum  pipe. 
)  He  emptied  his  covered  glass  as  he  spoke, 
and  called  out  to  the  bar-maid,  — 

"  Bring  me  a  fresh  one  ;  I  have  deserved 
it,  for  I  am  the  cleverest  of  the  lot." 

Eric  slipped  out  of  the  room,  glad  not 
j  to  have  been  recognized. 

At  the  door  he  received  a  friendly  greet- 
ing from  a  young  man  whom  he  had -no 
recollection  of  having  seen  before,  but  who 
i  recognized  him  as  one  of  the  singers  at  the 
'  musical  festival.    He  was  a  teacher  in  the 
!  scientific  school  in  the   capital,  and  an- 
!  nounced  to  Eric  that  he  had  been  proposed 
to  the  school-teachers'  union  as  an  honorary 
J  member. 

Eric  thanked  him  and  passed  on  ;  meeting 
in  the  street  a  great  stream  of  people  and 
!  carriages  coming  from  the  theatre  ;  he  hur- 
j  ried  to  the  hotel,  that  Roland  might  find 
j  him  there  on  his  return,  and  happily  arrived  • 
before  his  pupil.  He  waited  in  his  room, 
:  but  no  Roland  came  ;  he  went  to  the  draw- 
j  ing-room,  but  he  was  not  there ;  on  the 
;  contrary,  he  was  himself  asked  if  Roland 
!  had  not  yet  returned. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  observed,  with  a  smile, 
that  they  need  feel  no  uneasiness,  for  Roland 
j  was  with  Cuno,  and  of  course  enjoying 
;  himself.    She  expressed  her  regrets  that 
she  too  must  now  take  leave  of  the  company, 
j  and,  drawing  Sonnenkamp  into  the  embra- 
sure of  a  window,  presented  him  with  an 
!  Almanach  de  Gotha  for  the  new  year,  a  book 
I  which,  as  she  gracefully  remarked,  should 
henceforth  never  appear  without  the  name 
!  of  Sonnenkamp  being  in  it ;  and  she  bound 
'  herself  from  this  day  forth  to  pay  him  taxes  in 
j  the  shape  of  this  canonical  book,  to  be  de- 
livered  to  him  yearly  as  long  as  she  lived. 


296 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Sonnenkamp  was  duly  grateful,  and  es- 
corted the  lady  to  her  carriage. 

On  returning  to  the  drawing-room,  he 
said  to  Eric  :  — 

"  1  had  supposed  you  would  have  made 
Roland  more  worthy  of  confidence  ;  in  spite 
of  his  promise,  he  has  not  come  home." 

Eric  was  tempted  to  answer  that  it  was 
the  father,  not  he,  who  on  this  very  first 
evening,  when  the  boy-  was  hardly  out  of 
the  carriage,  had  given  him  permission  to 
go  his  own  way.  He  restrained  himself, 
however;  any  discussion  would  be  useless. 

"  I  cannot  go  to  bed  till  he  comes,1'  com- 
plained Frau  Ceres. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  we  can  look 
for  him  ?  "  asked  Sonnenkamp  of  Eric. 

"  It  is  not  necessary,  for  here  he  is,"  re- 
turned Eric. 

Roland  entered. 

His  mother  began  to  complain  and  his 
father  to  scold,  because  he  had  not  kept 
his  word. 

"  I  deserve  neither  complaints  nor  re- 
proaches," said  Roland.  "  I  had  great  dif- 
ficulty in  getting  away  from  the  company 
at  the  door  of  the  restaurant  whither  I  ac- 
companied them,  but  would  not  go  in." 

All  was  made  smooth  again,  and  they 
went  to  bed. 

Why  do  you  not  ask  me  how  I  enjoyed 
the  theatre  ?"  asked  Roland  when  he  •  had 
entered  his  room. 

"  I  preferred  waiting  for  you  to  tell  me." 

"It  was  very  fine;  there  were  beautiful 
girls,  and  Cuno  knew  them  all  by  name, 
and  had  some  story  to  tell  of  every  one  ;  stu- 
pid stories  they  mostly  were.  For  hours 
we  had  nothing  but  leaping  and  bending 
this  way  and  that,  without  a  word  being 
spoken.  Suddenly,  I  began  to  wonder  what 
Benjamin  Franklin  would  say  if  he  could 
•see  it,  and  that  spoiled  all  my  pleasure. 
Cuno  called  me  a  snob,  and  I  let  it  pass 
quietly,  but  he  added  something  else  which 
came  near  causing  a  duel." 

"  May  I  know  what  it  was  he  added  ?  " 

"  No  ;  it  was  about  you,  but —  of  course 
you  would  not  care  for  it.  You  are  not 
anxious  that  every  one  should  understand 
you,  and  whatever  the  world  may  say  " 

"Say  no  more,  dear  Roland,  I  beg;  I 
don't  care  to  know  what  people  say  about 
me ;  it  only  burdens  the  mind  without  help- 
ing us  to  be  better.  But  you  have  borne 
yourself  well,  and  may  sleep  with  an  easy 
conscience.  This  has  been  your  first  expe- 
rience under  fire,  and  will  not  be  your  last. 
Onlv  keep  true  to  yourself  and  to  me. 
Good-night." 

Eric  lay  down  with  happy  thoughts,  and 
with  happy  thoughts  Roland  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE  GREAT  WORLD  IN  THE  LITTLE  CAPITAL. 

While  Sonnenkamp,  the  next  morning, 
was  looking  through  the  court  calendar  and 
making  a  list  of  the  visits  that  were  first  to 
be  paid,  Eric,  also,  was  arranging  his  pro- 
gramme. He  determined  to  free  his  mind 
from  every  personal  disquietude,  as  the 
only  means  of  being  able  to  devote  himself 
to  the  new  difficulties  of  his  task. 

In  a  large  close  carriage,  made  half  of 
glass,  with  two  servants  in  fur  coats  sitting 
on  the  box,  "änd  the  footman  behind,  Son- 
nenkamp and  Frau  Ceres  drove  about  the 
city.  The  question  whether  Roland's  cards 
should  be  left  too  had  been  carefully  con- 
sidered, and  it  was  finally  decided"  in  the 
affirmative. 

Eric  used  the  day's  leave  of  absence  he 
had  obtained  in  visiting  some  of  his  old  com- 
rades, and  spending  some  time  with  them  at 
the  military  club.  He  was  more  cordially 
greeted  than  he  expected,  and  the  men  he 
met  were  better  and  sounder  than  he  re- 
membered them.  Of  course  the  talk  was 
of  the  newly-established  gaming-table,  of 
horses  and  ballet-dancers,  but  there  was  a 
prevailing  seriousness  among  many  of  his 
comrades.  The  great  excitements  of  the 
day,  which  were  affecting  all  minds,  were 
not  without  their  results  even  in  this  mili- 
tary club.  One  young  man,  who  satin  the 
window  with  Eric,  went  so  far  as  to  envy 
him  for  having  struck  out  for  himself  an  in- 
dependent career. 

Eric's  mind  grew  quite  light  and  tranquil 
after  visiting  a  few  more  of  his  friends,  and 
he  returned  to  find  the  Sonnenkamp  family 
in  good  humor  also. 

On  this  first  day,  the  Cabinetsrath,  with 
his  wife  and  two  daughters,  was  invited  to 
dinner.  The  dresses  had  come  from  Paris, 
and  Avere  already  the  town-talk  of  the  lit- 
tle capital,  the  custom-house  officials  having 
told  their  wives,  and  they  their  relations,  that 
dresses  had  been  received  from  Paris  finer 
than  any  in  the  wardrobe  of  the  Queen  her- 
self. They  were  duly  admired  by  the  la- 
dies, and  everything  was  in  the  best  possi- 
ble train.  Sonnenkarap  had  his  party  at 
whist  in  the  fashionable  club-house,  to  which 
the  Cabinetsrath  introduced  him ;  and  as 
they  rose  from  table,  Bella  and  her  hus- 
band were  announced  as  the  first  visitors. 

Bella's  gait,  manner,  and  dress  always 
suggested  not  only  invisible  servants  in 
livery  to  appear,  but  a  carriage  and  horses 
besides ;  she  always  looked  as  if  she  had 
just  left  her  carriage,  or  was  about  to 
enter  it ;  it  was  so  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  so  in  the  street.    She  was  extremely 


THE  COUNTRY-HOFSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


297 


animated,  and  only  to  Eric  regretted  that 
his  mother  still  continued  in  the  country. 
She  told  Sonneukamp  that  Otto  would  ar- 
rive in  a  few  days,  with  the  Russian  prince, 
for  the  two  men  were  to  take  part  in  a 
French  comedy  that  was  to  be  performed  at 
court,  in  which  she  also  was  to  play.  She 
made  Sonncnkamp  give  her  a  considerable 
sum  of  money  for  the  purchase  of  articles 
to  be  sold  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor,  at  a 
fair  held  at  the  beginning  of  the  next 
month,  by  the  first  ladies  of  the  capital. 
Sonnenkamp  promised  further  to  place  at 
her  disposal  some  beautiful  plants  from  his 
greenhouses. 

Clodwig  was  tired,  and  stipulated  before- 
hand that  little  should  be  expected  from 
him  in  the  way  of  society.  The  represen- 
tatives were  assembled  in  both  houses. 
Prince  Leonhard,  the  brother  of  the  reign- 
ing Sovereign,  a  man  who  had  seen  the 
world  for  himself,  and  had  even  travelled  in 
America,  had  been  chosen  President  of  the 
Chamber  of  Lords,  Clodwig  being  Vice- 
President,  but  having  to  perform  most  of 
the  duties  of  actual  President. 

While  they  were  still  together,  they  had 
the  pleasure  of  receiving  an  invitation  from 
Herr  von  Endlich  to  a  great  ball.  Bella 
could  not  help  repeating  what  was  said  by 
the  scandal-mongers,  that  Herr  von  End- 
lich gave  his  great  entertainment  thus  early, 
lest  the  daily  expected  news  of  his  son-in- 
law's  death  should  prevent  his  giving  it  alto- 
gether. This  was  just  the  height  of  the 
season ;  they  had  come  to  town  quite  early 
enough.  It  was  said  that  the  Court  would  be 
present  at  Herr  von  Endlich' s  ball ;  at  least 
the  brother  of  the  reigning  Prince  might  con- 
fidently be  expected,  for  he  maintained  rela- 
tions with  society  quite  independent  of  the 
palace.  Bella  was  also  called  upon  to  ad- 
mire the  Parisian  toilettes  in  the  adjoining 
room,  and  advised  Frau  Ceres  to  reserve 
the  handsomest  for  the  entertainment  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  himself  would  give. 

The  evening  at  Herr  von  Endlich's  was 
very  successful.  The  nobility,  notwith- 
standing the  wound  inflicted  upon  their 
pride  by  the  Sovereign's  inconsiderate  rais- 
ing of  the  rich  wine-merchant  to  their 
ranks,  were  largely  represented.  It  was  a 
singular  step  for  him  to  have  taken,  very 
unlike  the  almost  priestly  solemnity  with 
which  he  usually  regarded  all  affairs  of 
court  etiquette.  He  perceived  his  mistake, 
and  liked  to  be  made  to  forget  it.  A  sure 
way  of  winning  his  favor  was  to  show  cor- 
diality to  Herr  von  Endlich.    So  it  hap- 

Eened  that  the  company  assembled  at  the 
ouse  of  this  newly  made  noble,  was  the 
most  brilliant  of  the  season. 


Herr  von  Endlich  was  shrewd  enough  to 
invite  some  'distinguished  members  of  the 
House  of  Deputies,  and  even  two  of  the  ex- 
treme opposition,  not,  however,  without  first 
having  made  sure  that  the  Court  would  take 
no  offence  at  such  a  step.  The  Court  itself 
was  not  present,  except  in  the  person  of 
Prince  Leonhard.  He  had  made  no  secret 
of  his  disapproval  of  this  conferring  of  new 
titles,  but  as  a  subject  of  his  brother,  he 
appeared  at  the  ball,  and  conversed  freely 
with  the  members  of  the  opposition,  espe- 
cially with  Herr  Weidmann,  the  President  of 
the  House  of  Deputies. 

Although  the  Prince  represented  his  broth- 
er, and  always  spoke  of  him  with  great  def- 
erence, he  was  not  averse  to  hearing  such 
remarks  as,  "  Ah,  if  you  were  the  ruler,  there 
would  be  a  different  order  of  things ;  then 
we  should  have  a  model  country.'1  In  court 
circles  a  secret  compassion  was  felt  for 
Prince  Leonhard,  because  custom  made  it 
desirable,  in  fact  even  necessary,  for  him  to 
affect  liberal  views,  to  popularize  himself, 
as  the  aristocracy  called  it.  He  encouraged 
arts  and  sciences,  and  even  political  move- 
ments ;  the  journal  which  was  understood 
to  be  secretly  supported  by  him  slightly  fa- 
vored the  opposition. 

Prince  Leonhard  made  the  circuit  of  the 
rooms  arm  in  arm  with  Clodwig,  which  was 
no  slight  mark  of  distinction.  The  Count 
must  have  mentioned  Eric  to  the  Prince,  for 
he  called  him  from  his  place  behind  the  first 
row  of  those  who  were  waiting  to  be  saluted, 
and  said  aloud  :  — 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  my  dear 
Dournay  ;  you  have  become  a  great  scholar, 
I  hear.  Well,  well,  you  always  had  con- 
siderable talent  that  way ;  you  showed  it 
even  as  a  boy.  How  is  your  honored 
mother?  " 

Eric  expressed  his  thanks,  with  a  tone  of 
happy  relief  that  the  first  meeting  with 
Prince  Leonhard  had  passed  off  so  pleas- 
antly. No  trifling  compliment  was  paid 
him  by  the  Prince,  who  added  :  — 

"I  should  be  glad  if  you  would  bring 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  to  me  ;  where  is  he  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp,  unhappily,  was  not  to  be 
found.  By  the  time  he  was  summoned  from 
the  smoking-room  it  was  too  late  ;  the  Prince 
was  already  opening  the  ball  with  Bella. 

Herr  von  Endlich  was  beaming  with  hap- 
piness, but  •  Sonnenkamp' s  face  wore  a  sin- 
gular expression  when  he  learned  that  the 
Prince  had  desired  Captain  Dournay  to  pre- 
sent him.  A  still  more  striking  contrast 
existed  between  the  dispositions  of  the  two 
men.  The  Wine-count  possessed  a  confident, 
self-satisfied  manner,  with  sufficient  tact, 
however,  to  prevent  him  from  giving  offence. 


298 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


His  every  word  and  motion  plainly  implied 
his  superior  knowledge  on  all  points.  He 
could  enter  into  conversation  with  men  of 
the  most  dissimilar  pursuits,  and  make  a 
good  appearance  in  the  eyes  of  all.  The 
fact  of  his  being  financier,  political  econo- 
mist, agriculturist,  merchant  and  ship-owner, 
and  thoroughly  acquainted  with  everything 
connected  with  those  pursuits,  he  allowed 
to  be  taken  for  granted  ;  but  besides  these, 
he  was  able  to  converse  with  equal  intelli- 
gence upon  the  exact  sciences  and  all  the 
statesmen  of  Europe.  He  was  a  careful 
observer,  and  knew  how  to  turn  his  obser- 
vation to  good  account. 

Sonnenkamp,  who  was  often  one  in  a 
group  of  persons  to  whom  Herr  von  Endlich 
would  be  talking,  was  made  to  feel,  perhaps 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  quite  like  a 
school-boy,  in  fact,  extremely  insignificant. 
He  was  standing  with  some  others  listening 
to  Herr  von  Endlich's  account  of  the  casting 
of  steel,  when  the  Prince  approached,  and 
observing  that  the  conversation  ceased 
abruptly  upon  his  arrival,  said :  — 

"Pray,  let  me  not  interrupt  you,"  and 
listened  with  apparent  gratification  while 
Herr  von  Endlich  explained  the  whole  pro- 
cess, as  if  he  had  spent  his  whole  life  as  a 
worker  in  a  machine  shop. 

Upon  Sonnenkamp  being  presented,  the 
Prince  inquired  if  he  had  practised  grape 
culture  in  America. 

Sonnenkamp  replied  in  the  negative. 

With  a  sudden  change  of  subject,  the 
Prince  then  asked  again  whether  he  knew 
Theodore  Parker,  whose  preaching  he  had 
heard  with  pleasure. 

Here  again  Sonnenkamp  was  unfortu- 
nately obliged  to  say  no,  feeling  himself 
wretchedly  poor  and  ignorant. 

The  Prince  perceived  the  stranger's  em- 
barrassment, and  desiring  to  introduce  a 
subject  on  which  he  could  not  fail  to  be  at 
home,  asked  whether  he  believed  in  the 
possibility  of  a  peaceable  settlement  of  the 
slavery  question. 

The  bystanders  listened  with  interest, 
while  Sonnenkamp  proceeded  to  state  that 
the  horrors  generally  associated  with  the 
idea  of  slavery  had  no  actual  existence,  and 
that  the  abolitionists  might  be  very  well  in- 
tentioned,  but  certainly  they  did  not  set  to 
work  in  the  right  way. 

You  must  tell  me  more  about  this  mat- 
ter of  slavery  sometime ;  you  must  come  to 
see  me." 

"  Your  Highness  has  but  to  command,1' 
replied  Sonnenkamp,  most  happy  that  the 
conversation  should  end  here. 

Eric  stood  through  the  greater  part  of  the 


evening  near  Weidmann,  but  desirous  as  he 
was  of  giving  his  undivided  attention  to  the 
excellent  man,  he  found  it  impossible  to  keep 
his  eyes  from  wandering  towards  Bella. 
Bella  was  in  the  highest  spirits.  There 
was  something  Juno-like  about  her  appear- 
ance. There  was  a  dignified  ease  and  a 
magnificent  fulness  of  outline,  with  a  look 
of  pride  and  self-possession;  she  had  a  sig- 
nificant word  for  some,  and  a  lighter  for 
others ;  age  she  cheered,  youth  she  made 
more  gay,  and  all  with  an  inimitable  grace 
and  nobleness  of  manner. 

A  constrained  expression  sometimes  hov- 
ered about  her  lips,  but  as  she  passed  from 
one  to  another  she  had  a  cheerful  smile  for 
all,  and  there  was  a  magic  charm  in  her 
friendliness.  Even  in  her  outward  appear- 
ance she  remained  a  mystery,  for  no  one 
could  tell  the  exact  color  of  her  eyes,  though 
all  were  fascinated  by  their  glance. 

You  might  hate  Bella,  but  you  could  not 
forget  her. 

Such  must  have  been  Dr.  Richard's  expe- 
rience. The  Doctor  had  been  unjust  to  her, 
Eric  thought,  for  Bella's  leading  principle 
was  ambition,  and  ambition  directed  to 
great  ends  would  appear  like  greatness. 
The  feeling  that  he  also  had  done  her  injus- 
tice, made  his  manner  towards  her  more 
friendly  and  respectful.  Bella  seemed  to 
divine  what  was  passing  in  him,  and  nodded 
to  him  from  time  to  time  graciously  and 
significantly. 

Eric's  manner  set  her  mind  completely  at 
rest ;  for  in  fact  she  had  sometimes  secretly 
thought :  What  if  this  tutor  should  boast  — 
pah  !  no  one  would  believe  him.  Besides, 
he  is  by  nature  too  noble  to  boast. 

And  what  had  happened  between  them, 
after  all  ? 

She  had  already  found  a  subject  of  pride 
in  her  first  contrition ;  having  begun  by 
persuading  herself  that  the  whole  thing  had 
been  a  passing  exuberance  of  spirits,  a 
tempting  pastime,  nothing  but  sport,  in  fact. 

And  who  could  contradict  her  ? 

She  appeared  to  herself  in  the  light  of  a 
heroine  who  had  gloriously  overcome  temp- 
tation. 

Her  rehabilitation  Avas  so  complete  as  to 
become  the  main  fact  in  the  case ;  indeed, 
the  whole  thing  seemed  to  her  like  a  ro- 
mance she  had  read  in  some  book ;  it  had 
certainly  made  a  great  impression  upon  her, 
it  had  ended  differently  from  what  she  had 
expected ;  but  now  it  was  finished,  done 
with,  laid  aside,  returned  to  the  desk  of  the 
library.  Yes,  Bella  could  laugh  at  the  idea 
of  her  still  being  so  impressionable ;  she 
was  almost  proud  of  being  still  so  naive  in 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


299 


her  feelings,  still  capable  of  being  carried 
away.  Now  it  was  all  over,  and  she  was 
ready  for  something  else. 

She  exchanged  a  few  words  with  Eric  and 
Weidmann,  rejoicing  that  the  two  had  found 
one  another,  and  hoping  that  Eric  would 
often  come  to  see  Clodwig  and  herself,  that 
so  they  might  enjoy  some  more  intellectual 
talk  together,  and  be  brought  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  their  true  selves  in  the  midst  of 
this  whirl  of  society.  She  also  asked  Eric 
to  take  her  some  day  into  the  Cabinet  of 
Antiques,  and  give  her  some  instruction 
about  them.  With  a  tone  of  sisterly  advice 
she  reminded  him  that  etiquette  required  the 
making  of  certain  visits  on  his  part,  in  order 
not  to  be  left  out  of  society. 

She  was  rejoiced  to  hear  that  he  had  al- 
ready done  part  of  his  duty  in  this  respect ; 
and  in  reply  to  his  remark  that  he  had  even 
inquired  for  the  Sovereign's  negro,  but  found 
he  was  spending  the  winter  in  Naples  with 
the  invalid  princess  of  the  royal  family,  she 
asked : — 

"Ah?  Herr  Sonnenkamp  sent  you  then 
to  the  nigger  on  some  special  commission?'1 

Eric  replied  that  he  did  not  understand 
the  question,  upon  which  Bella  hastily 
changed  the  subject,  saying  that  it  was  only 
an  idle  jest ;  and  soon  afterwards  she  was 
laughing  and  talking  with  Sonnenkamp,  and 
calling  his  attention  to  a  man  in  the  com- 
pany, the  brother  of  Herr  von  Endlich,  who 
kept  the  most  fashionable  tailors  shop  in 
the  capital. 

Herr  von  Endlich  could  not  help  inviting 
his  brother,  who  was  a  person  of  considera- 
tion in 'the  city;  and  it  was  thought  an  ex- 
cellent joke,  that  the  man  who  sold  the  clothes 
yesterday  could  see  now  how  well  they  fit- 
ted his  customers. 

Sonnenkamp  congratulated  himself  that 
he  would  at  least  have  no  such  intolerable 
family  connections  to  dread  when  he  should 
enter  the  ranks  of  the  nobility. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  BLUE  RIBBON. 

Every  evening  was  spent  now  at  the 
theatre,  or  at  some  great  entertainment. 
The  morning  did  not  begin  till  noon.  In 
accordance  with  Bella's  advice,  Eric  had 
made  the  requisite  visits,  and  was  generally 
included  in  the  invitations. 

He  beheld  this  society  life  with  fresh  eyes, 
like  one  coming  from  another  world.  What 
lay  behind  these  smiling,  gaily-dressed  ex- 
teriors, and  the  friendly  greetings  they  ex- 
changed with  one  another  ?  He  shuddered 
as  he  looked  at  the  white-cravatted  crowd. 
In  the  smoking-room  each  man  vied  with 


another  in  telling  lewd  tales,  and  then  re- 
turned to  the  married  ladies  and  young  girls 
in  the  dancing-hall,  and  put  on  his  most 
courtly  manners. 

Eric  for  the  most  part  kept  modestly  in 
the  background,  but  Bella  was  exceedingly 
friendly  and  confiding  in  her  manner  to- 
wards him.  She  floated  gaily  down  the 
stream  of  intoxicating  pleasures,  pleased 
to  be  one  of  the  first,  if  not  the  supreme. 

The  Russian  prince  also  was  very  gra- 
cious to-  Eric,  and  talked  to  him  a  great 
deal  of  Knopf  and  of  a  wonderful  American 
child  at  Mattenheim. 

Pranken  saluted  him  in  silence,  hardly 
ever  exchanging  a  word  with  him. 

By  the  first  dignitaries  of  the  State  and 
the  Court,  Eric  was  kindly  received,  and 
heard  from  various  quarters  of  the  praise 
bestowed  upon  him  by  the  Countess  von 
Wolfsgarten  and  her  husband. 

Eric's  acquaintance  with  Weidmann  had 
reached  that  point  where  both  regretted  that 
they  could  see  so  little  of  each  other,  and 
yet  with  the  best  intentions  could  come  no 
nearer  together.  Only  once  did  they  suc- 
ceed in  getting  a  deeper  insight  into  one 
another,  and  here  too,  strangely  enough,  it 
was  when  the  conversation  was  personal. 
They  were  speaking  of  Clodwig,  for  whom 
both  expressed  equal  respect,  but  Weid- 
mann could  not  help  saying : — 

"  I  admire  this  power,  but  I  could  never 
exercise  it.  Our  friend  has  the  faculty  of 
entering  heartily  into  the  sphere  in  which 
he  lives  ;  I  mean  by  that,  he  can  put  on  and 
off  his  moods  of  mind  as  he  does  his  dress- 
coat.  His  own  tastes  lead  him  to  live  among 
entirely  different  interests,  interests  directly 
antagonistic  to  all  this  whirl  and  confusion ; 
but  the  moment  he  enters  this  sphere  no  trace 
of  any  antagonism  appears  in  him  ;  he  seems 
perfectly  in  harmony  with  the  life  about 
him." 

Eric  took  his  meaning,  and  said  he  could 
now  understood  a  reproach  that  he  had  been 
tormenting  himself  with.  Weidmann's  eye 
rested  thoughtfully  upon  him  as  he  spoke. 

"  People  say,  at  one  time,  that  we  should 
try  to  sift  every  experience,  should  take 
fire  at  this  thing  or  that ;  and  again,  they 
require  us  to  pass  over  things  indifferently, 
and  let  them  go  without  a  protest.  I  can- 
not do  that,  and  therefore  am  not  suited  for 
society." 

Weidmann  appeared  to  take*  a  different 
view  of  the  matter  that  disturbed  Eric,  for 
he  replied  that  he  ought  to  be  perfectly  sat- 
isfied with  having  succeeded  in  fostering 
noble  thoughts  in  a  boy  of  Roland's  charac- 
ter and  position. 

Often,  whole  evenings   passed  without 


300 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Eric's  seeing  Roland,  so  constantly  was  he 
surrounded  by  the  young  dancers  of  both 
sexes,  who  praised  and  petted  him  like 
some  favorite  plaything.  Every  night  he 
came  home  with  his  breast  covered  with 
favors  in  the  German,  and  the  day  found 
him  weary  and  absent.  Eric  noticed  that 
perfumed  notes  were  sometimes  handed  him 
by  the  porter.  Any  regular  course  of  study 
was  out  of  the  question.  Roland  went 
about  through  the  day,  humming  the  music 
of  the  night  before,  which  was  still  running 
through  his  head.  ■  He  preserved  with  great 
secrecy  in  his  writing-desk  the  cards  en- 
graved with  the  order  of  the  dances,  and 
many  other  souvenirs  besides  ;  and  his  face 
began  to  wear  an  expression  of  reserve. 

Pranken  was  delighted  to  see  his  family, 
as  he  called  the  Sonnenkamps,  thus  admit- 
ted into  society.  It  was  now  arranged  that 
Roland  should  take  part  with  the  others  in 
the  French  comedy.  The  young  Countess 
Ottersweier,  who  was  to  take  the  part  of  a 
page  at  the  court  of  Louis  Fourteenth,  was 
ill  with  the  measles,  and  her  part  was  as- 
signed to  Roland.  A  beautiful  dress  was 
ordered  for  him,  and  all  his  thoughts  were 
now  turned  to  the  play  and  the  rehearsals 
that  were  to  precede  it. 

When  the  first  dress-rehearsal  took  place, 
and  Roland  showed  himself  to  his  parents  in 
his  becoming  costume  of  close-fitting  white 
silk  tights,  they  were  full  of  admiration ; 
his  mother  in  especial  could  not  restrain  her 
expressions  of  rapture.  Roland  glanced  at 
Eric,  who  for  some  time  had  been  looking 
gloomily  on  the  ground.  He  wanted  to  ask 
him  why  he  was  so  pedantic,  for  that  was 
what  his  fellow-actors  called  him ;  but  he 
checked  himself,  and  only  said : — 

"  I  promise  you  I  will  learn  again,  by  and 
by,  all  the  lessons  you  give  me,  only  let  us 
be  merry  now.1' 

Eric  smiled;  he  felt  that  his  pupil  was 
having  destroyed  in  him  what  could  never 
be  repaired  ;  but  what  could  he  do  ?  The 
question  indeed  passed  through  his  mind 
whether  he  should  not  leave,  now  that  all 
he  had  so  carefully  planted  and  nurtured 
was  taken  and  trampled  under  foot ;  and 
only  the  thought  that  nothing  would  then 
stand  between  Roland  and  destruction  kept 
him  at  his  difficult  post.  Still  he  considered 
it  his  duty  to  communicate  his  anxiety  to 
Sonnenkamp,  who  comforted  him  by  saying 
that.  American  youths  were  ripe  in  years, 
and  masters  of  their  own  lives,  when  Ger- 
mans would  be  still  sitting  on  a  bench  at 
school,  and  grieving  under  a  master's  criti- 
cism. 

"  I  fear,"  said  Eric,  44  that  Roland  is  los- 
ing the  best  possession  that  man  can  win." 


44  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

44  He  should  learn  above  all  things  to 
find  his  best  pleasures  in  himself." 

44  So  you  would  like  to  make  a  scholar  of 
him,  a  man  who  can  boil  his  own  coffee  ?  " 

44  You  understand  me  very  well,  and  I 
understand  your  joke.  You  know  that 
what  I  mean  to  say  is  this,  that  the  man 
who  can  find  no  pleasure  within  himself  will 
find  none  in  the  world.  On  that  point  we 
in  a  manner  agree  with  the  church  people, 
only  we  understand  it  somewhat  differently. 
Whoever  will  be  happy  must  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  that  is  open  in  every 
human  soul ;  who  does  not  that,  is  always 
dependent  on  voluntary  or  purchased  ser- 
vice and  respect." 

Sonnenkamp  listened  to  Eric's  quiet  en- 
thusiasm with  a  nod  of  assent.  He  agreed 
with  his  ideas,  but  thought  them  strangely 
mixed  with  an  ecclesiastical  asceticism 
which  he  merely  interpreted  into  the  lan- 
guage of  the  world. 

While  Roland  was  at  the  rehearsals  of 
the  French  play,  Eric  would  often  spend  his 
time  at  the  teachers'  club,  and  was  pained 
to  find  here  also  an  aristocracy.  The  teach- 
ers of  the  higher  schools  were  separated 
from  those  of  the  primary.  Eric  was  re- 
ceived by  many  as  an  old  acquaintance, 
and  found  himself  followed  by  the  fame  he 
had  won  at  the  musical  festival,  for  the 
teachers  are  the  chief  supporters  of  vocal 
music.  They  had  a  private  singing  club 
here,  and  Eric  sang  with  his  comrades  more 
beautifully  than  ever. 

He  often  stole  away  from  this  noisy  com- 
pany and  joined  the  meetings  of  the  hum- 
bler school-teachers,  where  he  seemed  to 
be  transplanted  to  another  planet. 

Here  sat  the  serious,  earnest  men,  most 
of  them  worn  with  work,  discussing  ques- 
tions pertaining  to  their  calling,  as  how 
best  to  influence  and  guide  a  child's  soul ; 
and  out  in  the  world,  a  soul  trained  to  the 
best  of  human  ability  was  squandering  the 
teacher's  whole  long  and  painful  work  in  a 
single  evening. 

If  we  knew  what  was  to  be  the  result  of 
our  labors,  we  could  not  live  ;  the  best  part 
of  our  own  ideality  is  our  ignorance  of  the 
future,  and  our  belief  in  a  full  completion  of 
our  plans. 

Eric  could  not  resist  telling  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp of  his  evenings  in  the  school-masters1 
club,  and  Sonnenkamp  was  much  interested 
in  his  account.  He  thought  it  very  fine  to 
have  other  men  cultivate  the  ideal. 

44  They  are  happier  than  we,"  he  said,  as 
he  drank  his  heavy  Burgundy. 

On  the  evening  preceding  the  perform- 
ance of  the  French  play,  Roland,  at  his  fa- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


301 


theirs  bidding,  invited  all  bis  fellow-actors 
to  a  party  at  the  hotel.  The  gentlemen 
came,  but  none  of  the  ladies  except  Bella. 
She  took  Sonnenkamp  aside,  and  told  him 
confidentially  that  he  would  never  succeed 
in  drawing  ladies  to  his  parties,  till  he  had 
in  his  house  the  Frau  Professorin  nee 
von  Burgholz.  She  only  half  acknowl- 
edged to  herself  that  she  should  feel  a  little 
ashamed  to  meet,  on  her  return  to  the  coun- 
try, a  person  with  whom  she  had  so  often 
discussed  the  emptiness  and  worthlessness 
of  the  amusements  of  society,  and  was 
therefore  anxious  to  have  all  brought  into 
the  vortex,  that  none  need  have  to  fear  the 
reproachful  glances  of  another ;  but  besides 
this,  it  was  perfectly  true  that  Sonnenkamp 
without  the  von  Burgholz  would  never  ac- 
complish what  with  her  aid  would  be  an 
easy  matter. 

Bella  was  malicious  enough  to  tell  Son- 
nenkamp that  the  Cabinetsrathin  fleeced 
him,  while  in  society  she  disowned  him,  and 
described  their  connection  as  one  purely  of 
necessity  and  neighborhood. 

Sonnenkamp  was  doubly  incensed,  but 
had  to  look  unconcerned. 

The  play  came  off.  Roland's  beauty  and 
ready  grace  were  the  theme  of  general  ad- 
miration. Even  Bella,  whose  versatility 
was  admirably  displayed  by  the  numerous 
changes  of  costume  and  character  that  her 
part  had  demanded,  was  quite  thrown  into 
the  shade  by  the  enthusiasm  he  excited. 

The  Queen  summoned  Roland  to  her 
side  and  conversed  for  some  time  with 
him ;  both  were  observed  to  smile  as  they 
talked  together.  The  King  came  himself  to 
Sonnenkamp  and  his  wife,  and  congratulated 
them  upon  their  brilliant  son,  at  the  same 
time  asking  when  he  was  to  enter  the  school 
of  cadets. 

"  When  a  name  shall  have  been  gra- 
ciously bestowed  upon  him,"  replied  Son- 
nenkamp calmly. 

The  King  frowned,  bowed,  and  passed 
on. 

Sonnenkamp  drew  a  long  breath.  He 
had  evidently  made  a  mistake  to  introduce 
the  matter  at  such  a  time  and  in  such  a 
way ;  but  it  could  not  be  helped  now,  and 
forward  was  the  word.  He  cast  angry 
glances  around,  as  if  he  would  like  to  have 
doubled  the  whole  glittering  assembly  up 
in  his  fists,  and  kneaded  it  into  what  shape 
he  pleased. 

His  tempe-i»  was  not  improved  by  Pran- 
ken corning  up,  and  asking  what  he  could 
have  said  to  the  King  that  had  so  ruffled 
him.  Sonnenkamp  did  not  consider  it  ne- 
cessary to  acknowledge  his  mistake. 

Eric  looked  with  melancholy  upon  the 


j  scene  around  him  ;  near  the  pillar  against 
which  he  was  leaning,  a  beautiful  palm  lan- 
guidly drooped  its  fan-shaped  leaves.  It 
perishes  in  the  sultry  air  under  this  bright 
flood  of  gas-light,  he  thought,  as  he  gazed 
at  the  plant ;  if  it  be  restored  to  a  favor- 
able atmosphere,  it  still  pines  and  perhaps 
perishes  utterly.  Will  it  be  so  with  Roland 
too  ?  How  expect  him  to  strive  after  the 
ideal,  after  a  higher  activity,  when  all  this 
splendor  and  homage  have  been  offered 
him  ? 

Eric  found  himself,  he  could  hardly  tell 
why,  imagining  Professor  Einsiedel  here ; 
and  the  thought  called  a  smile  to  his  face, 
for  just  such  a  Professor  Einsiedel  was  he. 
What  then  are  we  who  live  only  in  the  re- 
gion of  thought  ?  Spectators  ;  nothing  but 
spectators,  while  there  is  the  world  with 
its  driving  and  snatching  after  enjoyment, 
every  one  plundering  and  appropriating 
whatever  he  can  seize.  Why  will  you 
stand  aside  ?  Why  not  hurry  and  scuffle 
with  the  rest  ?  His  breath  came  quick  and 
short,  his  cheeks  glowed.  He  was  in  this 
mood,  when  Roland  came  to  him  and 
said :  — 

"  If  you  are  not  satisfied  with  me,  I  care 
nothing  for  the  rest." 

Eric  gave  him  his  hand,  and  Roland  con- 
tinued :  — 

' '  The  Queen  wants  me  to  be  photographed 
in  this  dress,  and  so  do' all  the  ladies.  The 
other  actors  will  do  the  same.  Is  it  not 
fine  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  it  will  be  a  pleasant  memen- 
to for  you  by  and  by." 

"Ah,  by  and  by!  by  and  by!  it  is 
pleasant  now,  I  don't  want  to  know  any- 
thing of  by  and  by.  Oh,  if  we  only  did  not 
have  to  sleep,  and  undress,  and  to-morrow 
be  different  again  !  If  we  could  only  live 
on  like  this  for  a  hundred  years  without 
stopping !  " 

Eric  perceived  how  completely  Roland's 
head  was  turned  by  all  the  adulation  he  had 
received ;  it  was  no  time  now  to  try  to  turn 
the  current. 

But  he  himself  was  put  in  a  state  of  un- 
wonted excitement  before  the  evening  was 
over. 

He  had  noticed  Bella  talking  very  ear- 
nestly with  the  Minister  of  War,  formerly 
colonel  of  his  regiment,  who  presently  ap- 
proached him,  and,  after  saluting,  and  talk- 
ing of  indifferent  matters,  finally  asked  if 
he  would  not  like  a  professorship  in  the 
school  of  cadets  when  his  pupil  entered. 

Eric  expressed  his  cordial  thanks  for  the 
great  kindness,  but  could  give  no  decided 
answer.  He  was  startled  at  the  next  ques- 
tion, whether  he  had  made  any  definite  plan 


302 


THE  COUXTRY-HÖUSE  OS  THE  RHINE. 


for  himself,  after  the  completion  of  the 
young  American's  education  ;  he  had  made 
none.  Still  more  was  he  startled,  when  his 
questioner  further  asked  if  he  should  not 
then  return  to  his  literary  and  scientific 
pursuits,  as  he  had  heard  the  highest  hopes 
expressed  of  him  by  those  who  had  known 
him  in  the  university. 

Eric  was  perplexed ;  all  such  pursuits  he 
had  sacrificed.  What  was  to  become  of 
him  ?  To  make  matters  worse,  he  had 
drawn  his  mother  also  into  these  relations. 

After  the  Minister  had  gone,  he  caught 
Bella's  fiery  glance  fixed  upon  him,  and  he 
seized  the  first  opportunity  that  offered,  to 
thank  her  for  having  so  kindly  recommended 
him  to  the  Minister  of  War. 

"All  jealousy  —  all  jealousy;  I  want  to 
get  you  out  of  the  house  before  that  fasci- 
nating Manna  returns."  Bella  was  in  great 
good  humor. 

The  next  day,  while  Roland  was  with  his 
companions  at  the  photographer's,  decor- 
ated with  a  new  blue  ribbon  which  he  had 
secretly  fastened  on  his  dress,  and  while 
servants  were  distributing  cards  of  invita- 
tion to  the  great  Sonuenkamp  ball,  Sonnen- 
kamp himself,  accompanied  only  by  Lootz, 
drove  to  Yilla  Eden. 

CHAPTER  v. 
A  STRONG  HAKD  IS  POWERLESS. 

The  Frau  Professorin  was  sitting  at  the 
window  of  the  warm  and  comfortable  sit- 
ting-room. Carpets  and  cushions  within, 
and  moss  without,  shut  out  every  draught. 
The  sewing-machine  at  which  she  sat  moved 
so  easily,  that  scarce  a  sound  was  heard 
from  it.  From  the  river  came  the  noise  of 
the  grating  and  crashing  of  the  great  masses 
of  ice,  as  they  struck  against  one  another, 
changed  their  shapes,  and  floated  on  again. 

She  often  looked  out  across  the  river  and 
into  the  country,  and  saw  the  smoke  rising 
from  the  houses  in  the  different  hamlets  : 
she  was  familiar  with  the  life  there  now. 

Accompanied  sometimes  by  Fraulein 
Milch,  sometimes  by  the  huntsman,  but 
generally  by  Sevenpiper,  whose  cheerful- 
ness she  took  great  delight  in,  she  had  made 
her  way  everywhere,  ordering  and  helping 
with  word  and  deed.  There  was  a  constant 
passing  of  visitors  back  and  forth,  some 
coming  with  thanks,  and  some  with  new  pe- 
titions. She  thought  herself  highly  favored 
in  being  allowed  an  activity  so  abundant, 
and  so  immediately  fruitful  in  results. 

But  the  Frau  Professorin  w*as  not  without 
higher  pursuits,  for  she  read  over  again  her 
husband's  favorite  books,  and  studied  his 
comments  written  on  almost  every  page, 


drawing  thence  a  strength  which  enabled 
her  to  live  in  silent  communion  with  the  de- 
parted. Her  husband's  words  she  generally 
read  aloud  ;  it  did  her  good  to  move  her  lips, 
and  hear  a  voice  speaking  his  opinions. 
Often  also  she  had  to  read  aloud,  in  order 
to  drive  away  the  thoughts  which  crowded 
upon  her  at  all  times,  thoughts  about  Son- 
nenkamp, his  life  and  character,  and  what 
he  had  been  in  the  past,  but  especially 
about  Manna,  and  the  feelings  that  were 
working  in  her.  She  thought  she  under- 
stood now  the  meaning  of  Manna's  words 
to  Roland  when  she  was  leaving  her  parents' 
home:  "I  too  am  an  Iphigenia."  She  re- 
peated to  herself,  as  she  sat  at  work,  the 
song  of  the  Fates  in  Goethe's  drama,  and 
her  heart  was  burdened  by  this  mystery  of 

'  the  children's  having  to  suffer  for  the  sins 

;  of  the  parents. 

In  the  midst  of  these  sonorous  and  pow- 
erful lines,  she  heard  the  sound  of  wheels 
stopping  before  the  house.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  Doctor  coming  to  sit  an  hour  with  her, 
as  he  often  did ;  she  knew  he  liked  to  have 
her  stay  quietly  in  her  place.  But  it  was 
another  step  that  approached,  another  knock 
at  the  door,  and  Herr  Sonnenkamp  entered. 
**  Are  you  quite  alone  ?  " 
"  Quite  alone. " 

The  Frau  Professorin  was  greatly  em- 
barrassed ;  this  was  the  first  time  she  had 
seen  Sonnenkamp  since  hearing  that  about 
him  which  she  could  never  tell  him ;  it  re- 
quired all  her  self-control  to  enable  her  to 
offer  him  her  hand.  He  drew  off  his  fur 
glove  and  grasped  her  hand  in  his.  For 
the  first  time  she  felt  the  steel  ring  on  his 
thumb  like  a  cold  snake.  With  terror  she 
saw  her  hand  in  his.  This  hand  of  Son- 
nenkamp's,  so  thick  and  hard,  with  the  fin- 
gers bent  back  and  the  flesh  growing  over 
the  nails,  was  the  hand  of  the  Pharisee  in 
Titian's  picture  of  the  tribute  money.  So 
between  the  thumb  and  forefinger  does  the 
Pharisee  hold  the  piece  of  money,  and 
there  is  an  evil,  violent,  and  hypocritical 
look,  if  we  may  so  express  ourselves,  about 
the  hand.  She  remembered  standing  one 
day,  during  her  wedding  journey,  in  the  pic- 
ture gallery  at  Dresden,  when  her  husband 
covered  for  a  moment  the  face  of  Christ 
and  that  of  the  Pharisee,  and  drew  her  at- 
tention to  the  wonderful  drawing  of  the 
two  hands,  which  in  themselves  revealed 
the  opposite  characters  of  the  men.  With 
the  speed  of  lightning  did  those  thoughts 
and  images  pass  through  the  lady's  mind. 

Sonnenkamp  observed  this  emotion,  so 
unlike  her  usual  calm  self-possession,  but 
naturally  attributing  it  to  surprise,  said  with 
ready  tact :  — 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


303 


"I  have  often  noticed  that  intellectual 
persons  who  live  much  in  themselves,  and 
especially  noble  women  of  superior  cultiva- 
tion, are  not  fond  of  surprises ;  I  must 
therefore  beg  your  forgiveness  for  this 
one.11 

The  Frau  Professorin  looked  at  him  in 
amazement.  How  was  it  possible  that  a 
man,  whose  life  in  the  past  had  been  what 
this  man's  had,  could  understand  such  sub- 
tle emotions  and  express  them  so  delicately? 
She  confessed  that  he  had  rightly  inter- 
preted her  emotion,  and  asked  whether  his 
visit  was  to  herself,  or  one  of  inspection  to 
his  establishment.  The  question  was  an 
awkward  one,  she  knew,  but  she  could 
think  of  no  other  at  the  moment. 

"  My  visit  concerns  no  one  but  yourself,11 
said  Sonnen  kamp ;  "and  I  almost  regret 
my  purpose  of  disturbing  this  beautiful  re- 
pose. I  come  from  a  life  of  such  confusion 
as  makes  it  hard  to  believe  that  repose  like 
yours  can  exist  upon  the  same  planet.  We 
live  in  a  perpetual  whirl ;  the  only  comfort 
is  that  we  have  still  the  power  of  sleeping.11 

"I  am  familiar  with  this  excitement  of 
carnival  time,11  said  the  lady  smiling.  "  How 
we  long  for  quiet,  and  yet  are  ever  pursued 
by  the  music  and  laughter  of  the  evening 
before.11 

Sonnenkamp  now  openly  declared  the 
object  of  his  visit ;  and  with  great  humility 
begged  the  Frau  Professorin  to  confer  upon 
his  house  the  grace  and  dignity  which  she 
only  could  give  it. 

The  lady  regretted  she  must  decline  ;  she 
was  no  longer  fitted  for  gaiety. 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  your  views 
of  life  would  be  gloomy,  but  rather  free  and 
cheerful.11 

"  I  believe  they  are.  I  do  not  consider 
our  life  as  a  dismal  charitable  institution, 
from  which  all  cheerfulness  is  banished.  It 
is  right  that  youth  should  dance,  and  not 
think  of  the  people  who  are  shivering  with 
the  cold,  and  of  the  grief  and  misery  every- 
where, at  the  very  moment  they  are  moving 
so  gaily.  I  love  cheerfulness  ;  we  have  no 
strength  without  it.11 

"  Give  us  your  help  then ;  all  the  more 
will  we  devote  ourselves  afterward  to  our 
poor  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  great  hu- 
man family.1' 

The  Professorin  had  to  struggle  against  a 
feeling  of  indignation,  that  would  rise  within 
her,  at  the  idea  of  the  man  trilling  thus  with 
words  like  these.  She  looked  at  his  hands 
as  if  there  was  blood  upon  them,  and  these 
blood-stained  hands  were  offering  her  fes- 
tive wine. 

She  could  say  no  more,  she  only  shook 
her  head,  repeating,  — 


"  I  cannot ;  believe  me,  I  cannot.11 
"Then,"  began  Sonnenkamp,  "I  shall 

proceed  at  once  to  tell  you  the  secret  of  my 

life.11 

The  Professorin  had  to  put  both  hands 
on  her  table  to  steady  herself.  What  was 
the  man  going  to  say !  She  silently  in- 
clined her  head,  and  Sonnenkamp  told  how 
it  was  his  unwavering  desire,  and  a  matter  of 
necessity  for  his  wife,  Roland  and  Manna, 
that  he  should  be  raised  to  the  ranks  of  the 
nobility. 

The  Professorin  shuddered.  What?  Did 
this  man  dare  to  propose  such  a  thing  ?  The 
von  Burgholz  spirit  was  roused  within  her. 
How  could  a  man  with  such  a  past  as  his 
have  such  presumption? 

Sonnenkamp  watched  her  eagerly.  Some- 
thing was  going  on  in  the  mind  of  this  wo- 
man which  he  could  not  fathom.  She  kept 
silence,  making  no  response  to  the  confidence 
he  had  honored  her  with. 

"  Why  do  you  not  answer?11  he  asked 
at  last. 

The  lady  controlled  herself  and  said,  as 
she  inclined  her  head  somewhat  backwards  : 

"  Shall  you  not  find  it  hard  to  bear 
another  name  ? 11  • 

Sonnenkamp  looked  keenly  at  her. 

"  I  found  it  hard  as  a  wife,11  she  continued, 
"  to  bear  another  name.11 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear  lady,11  replied 
Sonnenkamp  courteously ;  "  you  had  to  take 
a  citizen's  name ;  it  is  much  easier  to  as- 
sume a  noble  one.11 

He  exhorted  her,  urged  his  request  upon 
her  more  earnestly,  enforcing  it  by  the 
warmly  expressed  wish  of  the  countess 
Bella. 

The  Professorin  insisted  that  no  one, 
even  though  admitted  to  the  closest  friend- 
ship, could  decide  upon  the  life  she  should 
lead ;  she  was  resolved  never  to  return  to 
society. 

Sonnenkamp  was  driven  to  extremity. 
He  believed  that  the  Professorin's  only 
objection  was  to  appearing  as  a  dependant, 
and  that  she  would  no  longer  refuse,  if  a 
free  and  independent  position  were  assured 
her.  In  a  manner,  therefore,  at  once  un- 
assuming and  emphatic,  he  told  her  that  he 
should  here,  and  now,  put  into  her  hands  a 
sum  of  money  sufficient  to  maintain  her  in 
an  establishment  of  her  own  for  the  rest  of 
her  life.  He  put  his  hand  in  his  breast- 
pocket as  he  spoke,  and  drew  out  his  pocket- 
book. 

"No,  sir,  I  beg  of  you,11  answered  the 
Professorin,  coloring  deeply  and  fixing  her 
eyes  upon  his  fingers, — just  so  did  the 
Pharisee  hold  the  piece  of  money.  "It's 
not  that,  I  assure  you.    I  am  ashamed  of 


304 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


no  position,  since  I  have  the  true  honor 
within  myself;  neither  do  I  fear,  as  you 
possibly  imagine,  being  too  deeply  moved 
by  contact  with  any  of  the  relations  of  soci- 
ety. I  have  voluntarily  resigned  all  con- 
nection with  it.  I  have  made  no  outward 
vow,  but  I  beg  you  to  respect  my  decision 
as  the  vow  of  a  nun,  as  you  would  if  it  were 
the  decision  of  your  daughter.  I  regret 
that  I  must  beg  you  to  urge  me  no  further, 
as  no  inducements  could  have  any  influence 
upon  me.V 

It  was  hard  for  Sonnenkamp  ^;o  control 
his  anger,  and  restore  the  pocket-book  to  its 
place. 

He  rose  and  went  to  the  window. 

For  some  time  he  gazed  fixedly  out,  then 
turning  round  with  a  smile,  he  said,  — 

"There  in  the  river  are  floating  the 
blocks  of  ice ;  a  soft  breath  bursts  the  icy 
covering ;  why  might  not  also,  my  honored 
friend  —  you  will  allow  me  so  to  call  you  — 
every  one  has  in  his  life  a  something  —  I 
know  not  how  to  call  it,  an  action,  a  pur- 
pose —  you  understand  what  I  mean  —  that 
ought  not  to  fetter  all  our  future.1' 

"  Allow  me  to  say,"  returned  the  Profes- 
sorin, "  that  in  my  case  this  would  be  a 
breach  of  faith.  I  have  nothing  left  in  the 
world  but  fidelity  to  myself." 

"  You  fill  me  with  admiration,"  said  Son- 
nenkamp, hoping  to  gain  his  point  by  ex- 
pressions of  admiring  respect. 

He  was  obliged  to  assume  a  gracious  and 
smiling  exterior  while  inwardly  chafing,  for 
the  Professorin  was  immovable.  There  was 
an  imploring  manner  about  him,  as  if  he 
would  say  :  I  know  no  way  of  help  but 
through  you ;  yet  he  found  himself  unable 
to  put  it  into  words. 

The  Professorin  felt  that  she  must  do 
something  kind  to  the  poor  rich  man,  must 
give  him  something  to  restore  his  cheerful- 
ness and  courage,  and  with  hearty  sincerity 
she  said,  — 

"  Let  me  express  to  you  the  thanks  of  the 
hundreds  whom  you  have  fed  and  comforted. 
You  have  made  me  very  happy  by  employ- 
ing me  as  the  medium  of  your  benefactions, 
and  I  desire  that  you  should  feel  yourself 
the  source  of  happiness  to  others." 

With  great  animation  she  described  the 
excellent  order  into  which  the  neighborhood 
had  been  brought,  and  how  her  help  had 
not  waited  for  sickness,  either  physical  or 
moral,  but  had  helped  forward  those  who 
were  sound.  She  told  so  many  beautiful 
and  touching  incidents,  that  Sonnenkamp 
could  only  stammer  out  as  he  gazed  at  her : 

"It  is  all  well  —  very  well  —  I  thank 
you." 

He  once  more  gave  her  his  hand  and  left 


the  room.  At  the  front  door  he  encountered 
Fräulein  Milch,  but  hurried  by  almost  with- 
out looking  at  her. 

Fräulein  Milch  found  the  Professorin 
washing  her  hands  with  all  her  might,  as  if 
she  feared  she  should  never  wash  them  clean 
from  the  man's  touch. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  he  was  to  be  raised  to 
the  ranks  of  the  nobility  ?  "  asked  the  Fräu- 
lein. 

The  Professorin  looked  at  her  in  amaze- 
ment. How  came  this  simple  housekeeper 
in  her  seclusion  to  know  everything  ? 

The  butcher  from  the  capital,  Fräulein 
Milch  said,  who  had  been  buying  a  pair  of 
fat  oxen  from  her  neighbor,  had  spread  the 
report. 

Secrets  creep  out  through  strange  chan- 
nels. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
GOLD  GIVES  FAME. 

A  stranger  is  inspecting  the  house,  the 
garden,  the  park,  the  hot-houses,  the  stables. 
Who  owns  them  all  ?  An  American,  about 
whose  past  life  there  is  a  mystery. 

Sonnenkamp  returned  to  his  old  home- 
life  as  in  a  dream ;  he  looked  back  upon  a 
time  long  past ;  it  was  no  longer  himself, 
buta  stranger  who  was  examining  the  place  ; 
he  who  had  built  and  planted  it  all  was 
dead.  Sonnenkamp  smote  his  forehead  with 
his  hand,  to  banish  the  spell  which  was 
overmastering  him.  What  power  was  weav- 
ing it  over  hira,  and  depriving  him  of  his  own 
personality?  Nothing  but  this  woman's 
poor  pride  in  her  own  virtue. 

"I  still  am,  I  still  will,  and  all  of  them 
shall  serve  me,"  he  said  aloud  to  himself. 

He  examined  the  trees  in  the  garden ;  a 
pure  tender  covering  of  hoar  frost  upon  the 
branches  kept  them  motionless,  and  threw 
over  all  around  an  aspect  of  such  stillness, 
yet  so  shining  and  glorified,  that  the  specta- 
tor involuntary  held  his  breath.  Here  and 
there  trees  and  shrubs  had  been  cut  down 
by  his  direction,  as  was  necessary  in  order 
that  the  artistic  effects  that  were  aimed  at 
in  the  laying  out  of  the  park  should  be  pre- 
served ;  and  Sonnenkamp  never  allowed 
the  growth  of  the  trees  to  exceed  the  con- 
ception he  had  in  his  mind  when  planning 
his  grounds. 

Two  fine  Newfoundland  dogs,  which  had 
always  been  his  close  companions,  he  order- 
ed to  be  let  loose,  and  smiled  as  the  crea- 
tures leaped  upon  him  full  of  delight  at 
greeting  their  master.  There  was  some- 
thing that  could  give  him  a  joyous  greeting 
and  be  glad  in  his  presence ;  dogs  after  all 
were  the  best  creatures  in  the  world.  He 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON*  THE  EHINE. 


305 


made  the  entire  circuit  of  the  place  with 
the  dogs,  and  when  he  reached  the  fruit 
orchard  looked  about  him  with  a  pleased 
smile  ;  the  carefully  trained  branches,  with 
their  mantle  of  snowy  rime,  were  like  the 
most  delicate  works  of  art.  He  on 
wished  that  he  could  transplant  them  ju 
as  they  were  into  the  capital,  and  set  them 
up  before  the  astonished  eyes  of  his  guests. 

His  guests !  Would  they  really  come  ? 
Would  not  this  entertainment  so  pom- 
pously announced  end  in  humiliation  ?  The 
branches  of  fruit-trees  can  be  trained  and 
bent  at  will ;  why  are  men  so  obstinate  ? 
Suddenly  his  face  broke  into  a  smile.  He 
had  heard  a  great  deal  said  of  a  famous 
singer  who  was  enchanting  all  Paris ;  she 
must  come,  cost  what  it  would,  and  she 
must  pledge  herself  to  give  no  public  con- 
cert, but  to  sing  only  in  his  drawing-room, 
and  perhaps  at  court.  He  would  offer  the 
contemptible  beau-monde  of  the  capital 
what  no  one  else  could. 

He  had  the  dogs  shut  up  again,  and 
heard  them  whining  and  barking.  That 
was  all  right ;  the  only  kind  of  creatures  to 
have  were  those  that  could  be  sent  for 
when  you  wanted  them,  and  shut  up  when 
you  were  tired  of  them. 

Sonnenkamp  had  the  horses  harnessed  at 
once  and  drove  to  the  telegraph  station, 
whence  he  sent  a  message  to  his  agent  in 
Paris,  stating  exactly  his  plan,  and  order- 
ing the  answer  to  be  returned  to  him  at  the 
capital.  Animated  with  fresh  courage,  full 
of  contempt  for  the  whole  world  and  of  pride 
in  his  own  fertile  invention,  he  drove  back 
to  the  hotel.  That  same  evening  he  re- 
ceived the  intelligence  that  the  singer 
would  come.  Pranken  was  with  him  when 
the  message  was  received. 

Sonnenkamp  was  anxious  to  have  the 
world  at  once  informed  of  this  extraordi- 
nary entertainment  which  he  was  able  to 
offer  them  ;  it  should  be  announced  in  the 
court  journal.  But  Pranken  was  opposed 
to  any  such  public  announcement,  and  ad- 
vised that  one  and  another  of  the  guests 
should  be  confidentially  informed  of  the 
pleasure  in  store  for  them  ;  and  then  every 
one  would  be  flattered  by  the  confidence, 
and  would  duly  spread  the  news  abroad. 
Pranken  himself  undertook  to  communicate 
the  extraordinary  intelligence  to  some  of  his 
favorite  companions  at  the  military  club. 

The  singer  came,  and  exercised  a  greater 
force  of  attraction  than  the  Frau  Profes- 
sorin could  have  done. 

Bella  appeared  early  on  the  evening  of 
the  ball,  and  congratulated  Sonnenkamp  on 
his  great  success ;  and  in  fact  nothing  was 
wanting  to  the  brilliancy  of  the  entertain- 


ment. The  popular  Prince  appeared  with 
his  wife,  and  the  rooms  were  filled  with  the 
cream  of  the  society  of  the  capital ;  the 
American  Consul-general,  with  his  wife  and 
two  daughters,  was  present  also ;  every- 
where were  heard  expressions  of  admira- 
tion of  the  host,  and  thanks  for  his  gener- 
osity. Frau  Ceres  alone  was  somewhat 
out  of  temper  at  having  her  own  splendor 
eclipsed  by  the  wonderful  talent  of  the 
singer,  who  drew  the  whole  company  about 
her.  The  Prince  talked  with  her  a  full 
half  hour,  while  with  Frau  Ceres  he  spoke 
but  a  few  minutes. 

Sonnenkamp  moved  among  his  guests 
with  a  feeling  of  triumph  in  his  heart.  Out- 
wardly he  affected  great  modesty,  but  in- 
wardly he  despised  them  all,  saying  to  him- 
self, — 

A  handful  of  gold  can  work  wonders ; 
honor,  distinction  in  society,  everything, 
can  be  had  for  gold. 

Two  topics  engrossed  the  conversation 
of  the  capital  the  next  day :  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp1s  ball,  the  like  of  which  the  city  had 
never  seen,  and  the  death  of  the  young 
husband  of  Fräulein  von  Endlich,  news  of 
which  had  been  received  the  evening  be- 
fore, but  had  been  kept  back  in  order  not 
to  deprive  the  family  and  numerous  con- 
nections of  the  Court  Marshal  from  enjoy- 
ing Sonnenkamp's  ball. 

The  next  evening,  the  paper  edited  by 
Professor  Crutius  contained  a  witty  article 
upon  the  two  events,  sarcastically  blending 
the  news  of  the  death  with  the  Sonnenkamp 
ball.  The  splendor  of  the  occasion  was 
thus  partially  dimmed,  and  Sonnenkamp 
discussed  with  Pranken  the  possibility  of 
gaining  over  this  poor  devil  of  an  editor 
also  with  a  handful  of  gold. 

Pranken  opposed  the  plan,  on  the  ground 
that  no  communication  of  any  kind  should 
be  held  with  these  communists,  as  he  called 
all  those  who  were  not  in  sympathy  with 
the  government ;  and  this  man,  who  scorned 
no  means  that  could  further  the  plan  of 
being  admitted  to  the  nobility,  was  amazed 
that  Sonnenkamp  should  not  be  ashamed 
of  employing  bribery  here. 

Sonnenkamp  appeared  convinced,  but 
appealed  to  Eric,  who  before  had  been  the 
medium  of  conveying  relief  to  the  man, 
and  desired  him  to  put  himself  again  in 
communication  with  him,  and  let  him  know 
that  Sonnenkamp  was  ready  to  assist  him  if 
he  were  in  need. 

Eric  emphatically  excused  himself. 

The  singer  was  not  summoned  to  Court, 
it  being  contrary  to  etiquette  that  she 
should  sing  there  after  appearing  in  the 
house  of  a  private  citizen.    She  left  the 


öot> 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


capital,  and  Sonnenkamp,  ball,  and  music 
were  soon  forgotten. 

Sonnenkamp  was  even  obliged  to  submit 
to  the  humiliation  of  not  being  invited  him- 
self to  Court.  He  was  openly  given  to 
understand  that  the  Sovereign  had  been 
much  displeased  with  his  having,  at  the 
French  play,  so  awkwardly  introduced  a 
matter  which  needed  to  be  handled  with 
the  greatest  delicacy.  Pranken  told  him 
this  in  a  tone  of  malicious  pleasure  mixed 
with  regret ;  Sonnenkamp  should  always 
keep  in  mind  that  he  Avas  to  be  indebted  to 
him  for  his  patent  of  nobility. 

The  evening  of  the  court  ball,  which  was 
the  one  subject  of  conversation  throughout 
the  capital,  and  which  was  attended  by  two 
noble  families  from  the  Hotel  Victoria  who 
had  come  from  the  country  for  the  purpose, 
was  a  most  trying  time  to  Sonnenkamp ; 
yet  he  had  to  hide  his  rage  and  exert  him- 
self to  comfort  Frau  Ceres,  who  kept  insist- 
ing on  leaving  the  capital  at  once,  since 
this  was  the  onQ  thing  she  had  been  aiming 
at,  and  now  it  was  all  over. 

Even  the  Cabinetsräthin  absented  herself 
this  evening,  being  obliged,  to  her  great  re- 
gret, as  she  said,  to  appear  at  Court.  Thus 
the  family  sat  by  themselves  ;  and  this  eve- 
ning, for  the  first  time,  Erie  managed  to 
acquire  again  a  firmer  hold  upon  Roland's 
mind,  for  Roland,  too, was  full  of  indignation. 
He  listened  in  silence,  but  with  dilating  eye, 
as  Eric  described  the  emptiness  of  all  worldly 
honors  if  we  have  not  a  consciousness  of 
self-respect  within  us ;  for  they  make  us 
dependent  upon  others,  and  such  dependence 
was  the  most  abject  slavery. 

At  the  word  slavery,  Roland  rose  and 
asked  Eric  if  he  had  forgotten  his  promise 
of  telling  him  how  different  nations  dealt 
with  slavery.  Eric  was  amazed  that  the 
subject  should  have  dwelt  in  the  boy's  mind 
through  all  the  excitement  he  had  under- 
gone, and  promised  to  give  him  the  history 
of  the  whole  matter,  as  far  as  he  was  able, 
when  they  should  return  to  Villa  Eden. 

Sonnenkamp  had  great  difficulty  in  con- 
cealing his  sense  of  injury,  yet  he  must  not 
give  additional  weight  to  the  slight  that  had 
been  put  upon  him  by  allowing  his  feelings 
to  appear.  The  family  of  the  Cabinets- 
räthin he  took  especial  pains  to  load  with 
friendly  attentions.  They  must  be  made  to 
keep  to  their  bargain ;  they  had  had  their 
pay,  and  were  not  to  be  allowed  to  cheat 
him.  He  made  the  young  cadet  a  spy  upon 
his  son,  giving  him  money  for  taking  Roland 
to  the  gaming-table,  tempting  him  to  high 
play,  and  then  making  an  exact  report  of  his 
behavior.  He  was  not  a  little  surprised  at  | 
the  cadet's  reporting  that  Roland  utterly  re-  I 


fused  to  play,  because  he  had  promised 
Eric  never  to  gamble,  even  for  an  apparently 
trifling  stake. 

Sonnenkamp  would  have  liked  to  thank 
Eric  for  this  great  influence  over  his  son, 
but  judged  it  best  to  feign  ignorance  of  the 
whole  matter.  He  begged  Bella,  when  she 
came  for  Eric  to  fulfil  his  promise  and  take 
her  to  the  cabinet  of  antique  casts,  not  to 
disturb  his  wife's  present  tranquillity  by  re- 
ferring to  the  court-ball. 

Eric  took  Roland  with  them  to  the  muse- 
um, and  though  Bella  said  nothing,  she  un- 
derstood his  motive  for  doing  so.  On  their 
way  thither  they  met  the  Russian  prince, 
and  Bella  ordered  the  carriage  to  stop  and 
invited  him  to  accompany  them,  thinking 
that  thus  the  party  could  divide  into  two 
groups,  the  Russian  walking  sometimes  with 
Roland,  and  she  with  Eric ;  but  she  could 
not  manage  it  so ;  Eric  did  not  once  let  go 
of  Roland's  hand. 

They  stood  long  before  the  group  of  Niobe 
and  her  children,  Bella  jokingly  protesting 
that  the  teacher,  who  seeks  to  protect  the  boy 
from  the  arrow  of  the  god,  was  of  the  Rus- , 
sian  type.  Eric  might  explain  as  often  as  he 
would  that  the  head  was  a  modern  addition 
and  represented  a  Scythian,  that  the  teacher 
was  a  slave  who  attended  the  boy  to  school 
or  wherever  he  went,  as  one  of  our  lackeys 
might,  she  still  insisted  that  he  was  a  Rus- 
sian. As  Eric  called  attention  to  the  fact, 
that  the  maiden  in  the  centre  of  the  group 
clings  to  her  mother  Niobe  and  hides  her 
face  in  terror,  while  the  boy  by  the  side  of 
his  attendant  voluntarily  turns  toward  the 
danger,  and  with  outstretched  hand  strives 
to  avert  it,  Roland  gazed  fixedly  upon  him, 
and  turned  almost  as  white  as  the  plaster 
itself;  his  eye  sparkled,  and  the  soft  dark 
hair  just  beginning  to  show  on  lip  and  chin 
seemed  to  tremble.  On  the  way  home  he 
drew  close  to  Eric,  and  trembling  as  if  with 
cold  said :  — 

"  Do  you  remember  when  that  letter  with 
the  great  seal  came  to  your  parent's  house  ?  " 

"  Certainly  —  certainly." 

"  Then  you  should  have  been  director, 
and  is  it  not  strange,  here  stand  these  fig- 
ures day  and  night,  summer  and  winter, 
waiting  for  us,  and  keeping  still,  and  look- 
ing up  while  we  are  dancing  and  dying." 

"  What  are  you  talking  of?  "  asked  Eric, 
alarmed  by  Roland's  strange  tone  and  man- 
ner. 

"Oh,  nothing — nothing.  I  don't  know 
myself  what  I  am  saying.  I  seem  to  be 
only  hearing  the  words,  and  yet  am  really 
saying  them.  I  don't  know  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  me." 

Eric  hurried  the  feverish  boy  home. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE   ON  THE  RHINE. 


307 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  SCHOOLMASTER  AJfD  NIOBE'S  SON. 

Every  day,  whenever  Frau  Ceres  saw 
Roland,  she  would  say  :  — 

44  Why,  Roland,  how  pale  you  look  !  Does 
he  not  look  very  pale  ?  "  Here  she  invaria- 
bly appealed  to  Eric,  and  upon  his  answer- 
ing in  the  negative  seemed  reassured. 

But  one  day  when  the  Mother  exclaimed 
in  terror :  — 

44  Why.  Roland,  you  do  look  so  pale!" 
Eric  could  not  deny  it. 

44 1  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with 
me,"  he  complained  as  Eric  took  him  to 
his  chamber. 

44  Everything  seems  to  be  turning  round 
me,"  he  said  as  he  looked  about  the  room. 
44  What  does  it  mean  ?    Oh  !  Oh  !  " 

He  sank  down  on  a  chair  and  burst  into 
a  sudden  fit  of  weeping. 

Eric  stood  amazed. 

The  boy  seemed  to  lose  consciousness, 
and,  with  his  eyes  wide  open,  stared  at  Eric 
as  if  he  did  not  see  him. 

"Roland,  what  is  the  matter?"  asked 
Eric. 

Roland  did  not  answer ;  his  head  was  like 
ice. 

Eric  gave  a  pull  at  the  bell,  and  then 
bent  over  the  boy  again. 

Sonnenkamp  entered,  to  know  why  they 
did  not  come  to  dinner.  Eric  pointed  to 
Roland. 

The  father  threw  himself  upon  the  lifeless 
form,  and  a  piercing. cry  was  wrung  from 
his  breast. 

Joseph  was  sent  in  haste  for  a  phvsician, 
and  by  the  use  of  strong  salts  Roland  was 
restored  to  consciousness.  His  father  and 
Eric  undressed  him  and  put  him  to  bed,  the 
poor  boy  moaning  all  the  while,  and  his 
teeth  chattering  with  the  chill  that  followed 
the  first  attack  of  fever. 

Sonnenkamp  looked  in  terror  at  the  anx- 
iety depicted  on  the  physician's  face  when 
he  saw  his  patient. 

4 '  It  is  a  very  violent  attack  ;  I  don't  know 
what  the  result  may  be.  Has  he  often  such  ?  " 
asked  the  doctor. 

"Never  before!  never  before.!"  cried 
Sonnenkamp. 

Alter  the  application  of  various  restora- 
tives Roland  was  able  again  to  speak,  and 
his  first  words  were  :  — 

"  I  thank  you,  Eric." 

The  doctor  left,  after  giving  strict  orders 
that  the  patient  should  be  kept  quiet,  so 
that  if  possible  he  might  sleep.  After  an 
hour  of  anxiety,  during  which  Eric  and  Son- 
nenkamp scarcely  ventured  to  speak  to 
one  another,  he  returned  ;  and  having  exam- 


ined Roland  again,  he  pronounced  that  the 
nervous  system  had  been  overstrained,  and 
that  he  was  threatened  with  nervous  fever. 

44  Misfortunes  never  come  singly,"  said 
Sonnenkamp.  They  were  the  only  words 
he  spoke  that  night,  during  the  whole  of 
which  he  watched  in  the  adjoining  room,  oc- 
casionally stealing  on  tip-toe  to  the  sick 
boy's  bed  to  listen  to  his  breathing. 

When  Frau  Ceres  sent  to  know  why  they 
did  not  return  to  the  drawing-room,  they 
sent  an  evasive  answer  and  begged  her  to 
go  to  bed.  Having  understood,  however, 
that  Roland  was  slightly  unwell,  she  came 
softly  to  his  bedside  during  the  night,  and 
seeing  him  quietly  sleeping  returned  to  her 
own  room. 

44  Misfortunes  never  come  singly,"  Son- 
nenkamp repeated  when  the  next  morning 
at  dawn  the  physician  pronounced  the  fever 
to  have  declared  itself.  He  ordered  the 
most  careful  nursing,  and  wanted  to  send 
for  a  sister  of  charity,  but  Eric  said  that  his 
mother  would  be  the  best  nurse  Roland 
could  have. 

44  Do  you  think  she  will  come  ?  " 
44  Certainly." 

A  telegram  was  at  once  despatched  to  the 
green  house,  and  in  an  hour  the  answer 
came  that  mother  and  aunt  were  on  their 
way. 

The  news  of  the  beautiful  boy's  severe 
illness  spread  rapidly  through  the  city. 
Servants  in  all  manner  of  liveries,  and  even 
the  first  ladies  and  gentlemen,  came  to  in- 
quire after  him. 

The  noisy  music  of  the  noon  parade 
startled  Roland  as  it  passed  the  house,  and 
he  screamed :  — 

44  The  savages  are  coming!  the  savages 
are  coming  !  the  red  skins,  the  savages  are 
coming  !  Hiawath'a  !  Laughing-water ! — The 
money  belongs  to  the  boy  ;  he  didn't  steal  it. 
—  Hats  off  before  the  baron,  do  you  hear? 
fly  !  —  The  blacks  !  —  Ah  !  Franklin  !  " 

Eric  offered  to  request  the  Commandant 
for  an  order  to  have  the  band  pass,  through, 
another  street,  or  at  least  stop  playing  when 
passing  the  hotel. 

A  sudden  thaw  having  carried  away  the 
snow,  it  was  found  necessary  to  spread  straw 
before  the  whole  front  of  the  Hotel  Victo- 
ria, to  deaden  the  sound  of  the  wheels. 

Eric's  mother  received  a  most  cordial 
greeting  from  Sonnenkamp,  and  did  her 
best  to  soothe  Frau  Ceres,  who  complained 
that  it  was  horrible  to  have  Roland  ill,  and 
that  she  had  to  suffer  for  it,  as  she  was  ill 
herself.  At  the  Mother's  suggestion,  which 
Sonnenkamp  at  once  adopted,  being  only 
too  happy  to  have  anything  to  do,  any  new 
means  to'  try,  Dr.  Richard,  who  was  fainLU 


308 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


iarwith  Roland's  constitution,  was  also  tele- 
graphed for.  He  arrived  at  a  late  hour  of 
the  night,  and  approved  of  all  that  had  been 
done  for  Roland.  He  laid  his  chief  injunc- 
tions upon  Eric  and  his  mother,  impressing 
on  them  the  necessity  of  guarding  them- 
selves as  much  as  possible  from  the  nervous 
excitement  attendant  on  a  life  in  a  sick- 
room, of  taking  plenty  of  rest  and  amuse- 
ment, going  out  often  and  refreshing  their 
minds  with  new  images.  He  would  not 
leave  them  till  both  had  given  a  promise  to 
this  effect. 

After  a  consultation  with  the  attending 
physician  he  prepared  to  depart,  but  when 
shaking  hands  at  parting  stopped  to  say :  — 

"  I  must  warn  you  against  the  Countess 
von  Wolfsgarten. " 

Erie  was  startled. 

"  She  has  remedies  for  every  possible 
disease ;  and  you  must  politely  but  reso- 
lutely decline  whatever  she,  in  her  dictato- 
rial way,  may  press  upon  you." 

"  He  is  not  going  to  die,  is  he?  "  asked 
Sonnenkamp  of  the  physician,  as  he  stood 
upon  the  steps. 

The  physician  replied,  that  in  extreme 
cases  the  powers  of  nature  were  all  we  could 
rely  upon. 

Sonnenkamp  fairly  shook  with  rage,  rage 
against  the  whole  world.  With  all  his 
wealth  he  could  do  nothing,  command  noth- 
ing ;  but  must  fall  back  upon  the  powers  of 
nature,  in  which  Roland  had  no  advantage 
over  the  son  of  a  beggar ! 

Frau  Ceres  lay  upon  the  sofa  in  the  bal- 
cony room  among  the  flowers  and  birds, 
staring  vacantly  at  them,  scarcely  speak- 
ing, and  eating  and  drinking  almost  noth- 
ing. She  did  not  venture  to  go  to  Roland's 
bed,  but  required  to  be  informed  every  hour 
how  he  was. 

The  entire  want  of  union  among  the  mem- 
bers of  the  houshold  became  now  apparent. 
Each  one  lived  for  himself,  and  thought 
every  one  else  was  there  only  for.  the  pur- 
pose of  adding  to  his  or  her  comfort. 

At  noon  a  great  event  occurred,  nothing 
less  than  the  reigning  Princess  sending  her 
own  court  physician.  Sonnenkamp  was  full 
of  gratitude  for  this  distinction,  which  un- 
happily he  had  to  receive  under  such  mel- 
ancholy circumstances. 

Day  and  night,  Eric,  his  mother,  and  aunt 
sat,  now  by  turns,  and  now  together,  by  the 
sick  boy's  bed.  He  knew  no  one,'  but  lay 
the  greater  part  of  the  time  in  a  half  sleep ; 
sometimes,  however,  in  an  access  of  fever, 
he  would  start  up  with  a  glowing  face  and 
cry :  — 

"  Papa  is  dancing  upon  the  black  people's 
heads  !  Give  me  back  my  blue  ribbon  !  Ah, 


ah !  "  Then  as  if  in  an  ecstacy  he  would 
exclaim,  "Ah!  that  is  the  German  forest! 
quiet,  Devil !  There,  take  the  may-flowers  — 
blue  ribbon  —  the  boy  has  stolen  the  ring  — 
the  laughing  sprite  — respect  to  the  young 
baron  —  back,  Griffin  !  " 

The  touch  of  Eric's  hand  upon  his  fore- 
head always  soothed  him.  Once  when  his 
father  was  present,  Roland  sang  a  negro 
song,  but  so  unintelligibly  that  they  could 
hardly  make  out  the  words.  Suddenly, 
however,  he  cried  out :  — 

"  Away  with  those  great  books !  take 
away  the  great  books  !  they  are  written  with 
blood !  " 

Sonnenkamp  inquired  if  Roland  had  ever 
sung  the  song  when  he  was  well ;  and  if 
Eric  knew  from  whom  he  had  learned  it. 
Eric  had  never  heard  it.  Sonnenkamp's 
manner  towards  Eric  and  his  mother  was 
full  of  humbje  respect.  He  gratefully  con- 
fessed that  this  illness,  which  threatened  his 
very  existence,  had  yet  given  him  that  which 
otherwise  he  might  never  have  obtained. 
He  had  never  believed  in  human  goodness 
and  unselfish  devotion ;  but  he  saw  them 
now  displayed  before  him  in  unceasing  ac- 
tivity. He  would  gladly  kneel  before  the 
Mother  and  worship  her,  he  added  with  an 
expression  that  came  from  his  heart,  for  she 
had  refused  to  come  for  pleasure,  but  was 
ready  at  once  when  called  to  night-watch- 
ing and  the  exercise  of  sorely  tried  patience ; 
he  should  never,  never  forget  it. 

The  Mother  felt  that  there  was  another 
patient  here  needing  her  care,  besides  the 
fevered  boy  who  lay  there  with  closed  eyes. 
Her  intercourse  with  Sonnenkamp  became 
more  intimate ;  he  complained  to  her  of  his 
never-resting  grief,  and  again  and  again 
would  come  the  thought :  What  I  desire,  I 
desire  only  for  this  son.  If  he  die,  I  shall 
kill  myself.  I  am  worse  than  killed  now, 
and  no  one  must  know  it.  Here  is  a  being 
who  has  no  past,  must  have  no  past ;  and 
now  his  future  is  to  be  taken  from  him ! 

"  Am  I  to  have  no  son  because  I  was  no 
son  ?  "  he  cried  once,  but  quickly  controll- 
ing himself  he  added  :  "  Do  not  heed  me, 
dear  lady ;  I  am  speaking  myself  like  a  man 
in  fever." 

The  Mb-ther  begged  him  to  compose  him- 
self, for  she  was  sure  that  by  the  mysteri- 
ous laws  of  sympathy,  any  excitement  in 
those  about  him  would  react  upon  the  pa- 
tient. 

In  the  stillness  of  the  night  the  Mother 
sat  by  the  boy's  sick-bed,  listening  to  the 
chimes  that  rang  out  the  hours  from  the 
church  tower ;  and  these  bells,  heard  in  the 
night  by  the  sick-bed  of  the  poor  rich  boy, 
brought  up  her  own  life  before  her. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


309 


Eric  often  reproached  himself  for  his  too 
great  indulgence,  in  having  allowed  Roland 
to  be  drawn  into  that  whirl  of  excitement 
which  was  now  perhaps  killing  him  ;  and  he 
remembered  that  day  in  the  cold  gallery 
before  the  Niobe,  when  the  fever  first  showed 
itself.  He  was  another  whom  the  Mother 
had  to  soothe.  She  alone  preserved  a  firm 
balance,  and  offered  a  support  on  which  all 
others  could  lean.  She  handed  Eric  the 
letter  she  had  received  from  Professor  Ein- 
siedel on  New  Year's  day,  and  asked  about 
the  scientific  work  which  she  had  not  before 
heard  of.  Eric  explained  how  it  had  all 
come  about.  His  mother  perceived  that  he 
had  yet  learned  nothing  of  Sonnenkamp's 
past  life,  and  took  care  to  tell  him  nothing, 
thinking  he  ought  not  to  have  the  addition- 
al burden  of  such  knowledge  at  this  time  of 
anxiety  for  the  sick  boy,  and  of  increased 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  his  training. 

In  obedience  to  Dr.  Richard's  strict  di- 
rections, the  Mother  often  went  out  to 
visit  her  old  friends,  among  them  the  wife 
of  the  Minister  of  War,  and  was  greatly 
comforted  at  learning  that  Eric  could  have 
a  professorship  in  the  school  of  cadets,  when 
Roland  entered  the  academy.  She  always 
returned  home  greatly  cheered  from  these 
visits. 

Eric,  too,  made  calls,  spending  many 
hours  with  Clodwig.  Bella  he  seldom  saw, 
and  then  but  for  a  short  time ;  she  evidently 
avoided  now  any  interview  with  him  alone. 

Pranken  took  great  offence  at  Eric's 
mother  having  been  sent  for  without  his  ad- 
vice ;  these  Dournays  seemed  to  him  to  be 
weaving  a  net  about  the  Sonnenkamp  fam- 
ily. He  came  sometimes  to  inquire  for  Ro- 
land, but  spent  most  of  his  time  at  Herr 
von  Endlich's,  in  the  society  of  the  young 
widow  lately  returned  from  Madeira. 

Much  as  Eric  had  desired  to  become  bet- 
ter acquainted  with  Weidmann,  the  whirl 
of  society  had  hitherto  prevented,  and  now 
that  the  Parliament  was  no  longer  in  ses- 
sion, Weidmann  had  left  the  capital  without 
any  closer  relation  having  been  formed 
between  them. 

Weeks  passed  away  in  trembling  sus- 
pense. The  sick  boy's  wandering  fancies 
took  a  wholly  new  direction.  He  imagined 
himself  with  Manna,  and  was  constantly 
talking  to  her,  caressing  her,  jesting  with 
her,  and  teasing  her  about  the  picture  of 
Saint  Anthony.  Manna  had  not  been  told 
of  her  brother's  illness  ;  it  seemed  useless  to 
burden  her  with  anxiety,  when  she  could  do 
nothing  to  help. 

Sonnenkamp  continued  to  be  greatly 
vexed  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but 
•  to  wait  for  the  forces  of  nature.    He  sent 


considerable  sums  of  money  to  the  poor  of 
the  capital  and  to  all  the  charitable  institu- 
tions ;  he  reminded  Eric  of  what  he  had 
told  him  of  the  teachers'  union,  and  handed 
him  a  handsome  sum  for  the  furthering  of 
the  objects  of  the  association. 

One  day  he  asked  the  Professorin  if  it 
were  not  possible  that  prayer  might  help  the 
sick.  She  replied  that  she  knew  no  posi- 
tive answer  to  such  a  question,  that  Sonnen- 
kamp must  compose  himself,  and  be  glad  if 
he  could  cherish  such  a  beautiful  faith.  He 
looked  sadly  at  her. 

Roland  talked  so  constantly  with  his  sis- 
ter, that  Sonnenkamp  asked  the  physician  if 
Manna  had  not  better  be  sent  for,  and  was 
delighted  at  receiving  an  affirmative  an- 
swer. 

It  was  a  comfort  to  him  in  the  midst  of 
his  duties,  to  think  that  now  he  could  force 
his  child  from  the  convent,  and  never  let  her 
leave  him  more.  His  heart  rejoiced  in  the 
prospect  of  being  able  to  have  both  his  chil- 
dren with  him,  when  Roland  was  well  again. 
He  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  rapidly 
opening  and  shutting  his  hands,  as  if  he  were 
leading  his  children  by  his  side. 

The  careful  Lootz  was  despatched  to  the 
convent  with  an  urgent  letter  enclosing  the 
doctor's  directions,  to  which  he  would  gladly 
have  added  a  few  words  of  the  Professorin ; 
but  she  was  resolved  to  interfere  in  no  pos- 
sible way  of  Manna's  plan  of  life,  even  in  a 
case  of  extreme  necessity,  and  refused  to 
write. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  SISTER  OUTSIDE  THE  FAMILY. 

Snow  lay  upon  the  roof  of  the  convent, 
and  upon  the  trees,  meadows,  and  roads  of 
the  island  ;  but  within  the  great  house  was 
an  animated  twofold  life,  for  the  whole  sa- 
cred narrative  was  here  rehearsed  afresh  in 
the  minds  and  before  the  eyes  of  the  child- 
ren. Every  day  were  recalled  those  nightly 
events,  so  touching  and  blessed,  that  took 
place  in  Canaan  nearly  two  thousand  years 
ago.  Manna  lived  so  entirely  in  these  rep- 
resentations, that  she  often  had  to  stop  and 
force  herself  to  think  where  she  was.  She 
was  seized  with  a  longing  to  make  a  pil- 
grimage to  Jerusalem,  to  kiss  the  soil  of  the 
Holy  Land,  and  there  atone  for  all  the  evil 
done  by  those  who  were  near  to  her,  and 
those  who  were  strangers  to  her. 

Her  eyes  beamed  as  with  a  fire  from 
above,  while  with  wonderful  power  she  re- 
peated the  sacred  history  to  little  Heimchen, 
who  was  again  sick  in  bed.  But  the"  little 
girl  made  her  smile  to-day  by  asking :  — 

"  Is  there  snow  in  Jerusalem  too,  then?  V 


310 


THE  COUNTRY -nOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Manna  had  scarcely  considered  what  sea- 
son of  the  year  it  was,  so  entirely  was  she 
absorbed  in  the  life  she  was  describing.  As 
she  turned  to  look  at  the  melting  snow, 
a  lay-sister  entered  and  handed  her  a  let- 
ter. 

"  Where  is  the  messenger?"  she  asked. 

14  He  is  waiting  in  the  reception-room." 

44 1  will  give  him  an  answer,"  returned 
Manna,  and  began  to  read  her  letter  a  sec- 
ond time. 

She  paced  the  cell  backwards  and  for-, 
wards ;  at  one  moment  she  wanted  to  seek 
the  Lady  Superior  and  ask  what  she  should 
do,  but  the  next,  her  heart  shrank  at  the 
thought.  Why  ask  advice  of  another  hu- 
man being  ?  She  looked  at  her  hand,  which 
had  been  pressed  upon  her  eyes.  You  can- 
not weep,  said  a  voice  within  her  ;  you  must 
not  weep  for  aught  in  this  world. 

44  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Heimchen 
from  the  bed.  "  What  makes  you  look  so 
cross  ? " 

44  I  am  not  cross,  I  am  not  cross  ;  do  you 
think  I  am  ?  » 

"No;  now  you  look  pleasant  again. 
Stay  with  me,  Manna —  stay  with  me  ;  don't 
go  away — stay  with  me,  Manna.  Manna, 
I  shall  die." 

Manna  bent  over  the  child  and  soothed 
her.  This  is  the  first  trial,  she  thought, 
and  it  is  a  hard  one.  Now  I  must  show 
whether  love  of  mankind,  of  the  Saviour,  is 
stronger  in  me  than  family  affection.  I 
ought,  I  must !  She  committed  Henrichen 
to  the  care  of  a  lay-sister,  and,  promising 
soon  to  return,  descended  to  the  church.  At 
sight  of  the  picture,  which  made  her  think 
involuntarily  of  the  man  who  was  with  Ro- 
land, she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
threw  herself  in  deep  contrition  upon  her 
knees,  and  prayed  fervently.  Thus  she  lay 
long,  her  lace  buried  in  her  hands.  At 
length  her  decision  was  made,  and  she  rose. 
I  ought  and  must,  and  I  can  !  I  must  have 
strength  for  it !  I  am  resolved  to  live  only 
for  the  service  of  the  Eternal.  Roland  has 
good  care  taken  of  him ;  he  recognizes  no 
one  ;  if  I  go  to  him  it  will  be  to  remove  my 
own  distress,  not  his.  Here,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  Heimchen  sick  and  needing  me. 
There  is  no  question  as  to  my  duty ;  I  will 
stay  at  the  post  where  not  my  will,  but  that 
of  the  Highest,  has  placed  me. 

She  remembered  the  Lady  Superior  tell- 
ing her  how  her  father  and  mother  had  died, 
and  she  could  not  leave  her  convent  to  go 
to  them.  Manna  resolved  to  do  the  same 
jthing  voluntarily,  under  the  compulsion  of 
no  vow.  She  trembled  as  she  thought  that 
it  might  be  better  for  Roland  if  he  could  die 
now  before  he  fell  into  sin,  and  perhaps  had 


I  to  hear  the  dreadful  secret.  The  idea  was 
almost  more  than  she  could  bear,  but  she 
held  her  resolution  fast. 

Manna  returned  to  her  cell,  meaning  to 
write  and  tell  all  that  was  in  her  soul,  but 
she  could  not.  She  descended  to  the  re- 
ception-room, told  Lootz  simply  that  she 
could  not  go  back  with  him  ;  and  then,  re- 
turning again  to  her  cell,  looked  out  upon 
the  landscape.  Life  seemed  frozen  within 
her,  but  as  the  melting  snow  dripped  from 
the  roof,  so  her  tears  broke  forth  at  last, 
and  she  wept  bitterly  ;  yet  her  decision  re- 
mained unshaken.  The  whole  night  was 
spent  in  watching  and  prayer,  and  the  next 
morning  she  told  her  story  to  the  Lady  Su- 
perior, who  made  no  answer  besides  a  silent 
inclination  of  the  head. 

Again  in  her  cell,  Manna  read  the  letter, 
and  was  made  aware  for  the  first  time  that 
Eric's  mother  was  nursing  Roland.  The 
paper  trembled  in  her  hand,  as-  she  read  of 
Roland's  constant  talking  with  her  in  his 
fevered  ravings.  Why  did  her  father  write 
nothing  of  Pranken  ?  Where  was  he  ?  she 
asked  herself ;  then,  indignant  that  her 
thoughts  should  still  cling  to  the  world, 
with  a  sudden  resolve  she  flung  the  letter 
into  the  open  grate,  and  watched  it  break 
into  momentary  flame,  and  then  float  in. 
light  flakes  up  the  chimney.  So  had  it 
been  in  her  heart,  so  ought  it  to  be  ;  noth- 
ing more  from  the  outer  world  should  reach 
her. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
GROWTH  DURING  ILLNESS. 

"He  is  saved!'1  said  the  doctor,  and 
"  He  is  saved,"  was  repeated  by  voice  after 
voice  through  the  whole  city. 

The  doctor  enjoined  double  care  in  guard- 
ing Roland  from  the  least  excitement  of  any 
kind,  and  when  the  boy  complained  of  the 
horrible  tedium  of  his  sick-room,  both  Eric 
and  the  doctor  laughingly  reminded  him 
that  he  had  his  good  time  in  the  first  place, 
and  that  ennui  was  the  first  sure  step  to- 
wards recovery.  Roland  complained  also 
of  being  kept  hungry,  and  then  added,  his 
face  seeming  to  grow  fuller  and  fairer  as  he 
spoke : — 

44  Hiawatha  voluntarily  suffered  hunger, 
and  do  you  remember.  Eric,  my  thinking 
then  that  man  was  the  only  creature  that 
could  voluntarily  hunger  ?  Now  I  must 
practice  what  I  preached." 

Roland  showed  himself  particularly  full 
of  affection  toward  Eric's  mother.  He 
maintained  that  she  was  the  only  person  he 
had  recognized  during  his  delirium,  and  that 
it  had  caused  him  the  greatest  distress  not  . 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


311 


to  be  able  to  say  so  at  the  time,  but  the 
wrong  words  would  keep  coming  from  his 
mouth.  Even  the  Mother  did  not  stay  with 
him  long  at  a  time. 

He  rejoiced  to  see  lilies  of  the  valley  in 
his  room,  and  remembered  that  he  had 
dreamed  of  them. 

"  Was  not  Manna  with  me  too?  I  was 
always  seeing  her  black  eyes." 

Heimehen's  illness,  they  told  him,  pre- 
vented her  leaving  the  convent. 

He  wanted  to  see  the  photograph  taken 
of  him  in  his  page's  dress,  and  said  to  Eric  : 

"You  were  right,  it  will  be  a  pleasant 
recollection  to  me  by  and  by.  Indeed  the 
by  and  by  is  already  here ;  it  seems  to  me 
two  years  ago.  Do  give  me  a  glass,  for  I 
must  know  how  I  look." 

"Not  now,"  returned  Eric;  "not  for  a 
week  yet." 

Roland  was  as  obedient  as  a  little  child, 
and  as  grateful  as  an  appreciative  man. 
The  second  day,  he  begged  Eric  to  let  him 
relieve  his  mind  by  speaking  out  what  was 
in  it. 

"  If  you  will  speak  calmly  I  will  hear  you." 

"  Listen  to  me  then,  and  warn  me  when 
I  speak  too  excitedly.  I  was  on  the  sea, 
and  dolphins  were  playing  about  the  ship, 
when  suddenly  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen 
but  black  men's  heads,  and  in  the  midst  of 
them  a  pulpit  swimming,  in  which  stood 
Theodore  Parker  preaching  with  a  mighty 
voice,  louder  than  the  roaring  of  the  sea ; 
and  the  pulpit  kept  swimming  on  and  on 
with  the  ship  " 

"  You  are  speaking  excitedly  already," 
interposed  Eric.  Roland  went  on  more 
quietly,  in  a  low  tone,  but  every  word  per- 
fectly distinct : — 

"Now  comes  the  most  beautiful  part  of 
all.  I  told  you  how  as  I  lay  in  the  forest 
that  time  when  I  was  journeying  after  you  — 
nearly  a  year  ago  now  —  there  came  a  child 
with  long,  bright,  wavy  hair,  and  said, 
"This  is  the  German  forest;"  and  I  gave 
her  mayflowers,  and  she  was  taken  up  in  a 
carriage  and  disappeared  ;  you  remember  it 
all,  don't  you  ?  But  in  my  dream  it  was 
even  more  bright  and  beautiful.  "This  is 
the  German  forest,"  was  sung  by  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  voices,  just  as  it  was  at 
the  musical  festival,  oh,  so  beautifully,  so 
beautifully ! " 

"  That  will  do,"  interrupted  Eric  ;  "  you 
have  told  enough,  and  must  be  left  alone 
awhile.'1 

Eric  told  his  mother  of  the  strange  fairy 
story,  which  that  decisive  journey  had  given 
rise  to  in  Eric's  mind  —  he  had  heard  of  it 
before  from  Glaus  —  and  mentioned  as  a 
singular  circumstance,  that  this  second  rev- 


olution in  the  boy's  nature  resulting  in  his 
illness,  should  have  recalled  to  him  this 
story. 

The  Mother  was  of  opinion  that  some- 
thing similar  to  the  story  must  actually  have 
happened,  but  warned  Eric  not  to  refer  to 
the  subject  again,  for  every  recollection  of 
past  events  retarded  recovery  and  a  re- 
turn to  a  natural  state  of  mind. 

The  first  time  Roland  could  stand  up, 
they  were  all  surprised  to  see  how  much  he 
had  grown  during  his  illness.  The  down 
too,  on  his  lip  and  chin,  to  his  great  de- 
light, had  increased  perceptibly.  When  he 
saw,  for  the  first  time,  the  straw  spread  be- 
fore the  house,  he  said, — 

"  So  the  whole  city  has  known  of  my  ill- 
ness, and  I  have  every  one  to  thank. 
That  is  the  best  of  all.  How  many  I  owe 
gratitude  to !  Whoever  shall  come  to  me 
now,  for  the  rest  of  my  life  will  have  a  claim 
upon  me." 

Eric  and  his  mother  exchanged  glances 
as  Roland  spoke,  and  then  cast  their  eyes 
to  the  ground.  Wonderful  was  the  awaken- 
ing to  life  displayed  before  them  in  this 
young  soul. 

"  Did  Eric  tell  you  that  I  had  seen  Pran- 
ken ?  asked  Roland. 

"  Yes.    Now  lie  down  to  sleep." 

"  No,"  he  cried ;  "  one  thing  more  !  " 

He  called  for  his  pocket-book,  in  which 
he  had  written  the  name  of  the  groom 
whom  he  had  suspected  of  robbing  him  on 
his  night  journey.  Reproaching  himself 
for  having  hitherto  neglected  to  inquire 
about  him,  he  charged  Eric  to  find  the  man, 
who  was  now  a  soldier  in  his  regiment  here, 
and  bring  him  to  his  room. 

The  soldier  came,  and  received  from  Ro- 
land a  sum  of  money  very  nearly  as  large 
as  that  in  the  purse  at  the  time.  Eric  had 
no  need  to  have  given  such  strict  injunc- 
tions to  the  man  not  to  excite  Roland  by 
much  talking,  and  vehement  expressions  of 
gratitude,  for  the  soldier  had  no  power  to 
speak  a  word.  He  felt  as  if  he  were  in 
fairy  land,  at  being  thus  summoned  into  a 
great  hotel,  before  a  beautiful  sick  boy,  and 
presented  with  such  a  sum  of  money ;  it 
was  like  being  transported  into  another 
world. 

Contented  and  happy,  Roland  lay  in  bed 
again.  He  begged  his  father,  when  next 
he  came  to  his  bedside,  to  give  away  all 
his  clothes,  for  he  would  wear  none  of  them 
again. 

"  Do  you  want  to  put  on  your  uniform  at 
once  ?  "  asked  Sonnenkamp. 

"No,  not  now ;  but  I  want  to  go  home 
soon,  as  soon  as  we  can,  back  to  the  villa ; 
home,  home !  " 


312 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Sonnenkamp  promised  all  should  be  as 
he  desired. 

The  Professorin  soon  fell  in  with  some 
young  people  whom  Roland's  clothes  just 
fitted,  and  he  exclaimed  with  delight  when, 
he  heard  it,  — 

"That  is  good;  now  my  clothes  will  go 
about  the  streets  until  I  am  there  again 
myself;  I  shall  be  represented  sevenfold." 

He  desired  his  father  to  express  his 
thanks  to  all  the  persons  who  had  so  kindly 
shown  an  interest  in  him,  a  duty  which 
Sonnenkamp  would  readily  have  performed 
without  this  admonition.  It  afforded  the 
best  possible  way,  better  than  the  most 
brilliant  entertainment,  of  coming  in  con- 
tact with  the  aristocracy. 

With  his  handsomest  carriage  and  horses, 
Sonnenkamp  drove  through  the  whole  city. 
His  wife  had  refused  all  his  entreaties  that 
she  would  accompany  him  ;  but  he  succeeded 
in  inducing  the  Professorin  to  be  his  com- 
panion. She,  also,  refused  at  first,  but 
yielded  to  Roland's  persuasions.  It  was 
the  first  request,  as  he  said,  that  he  had 
asked  of  her  since  his  return  to  life,  and 
she  should  and  must  gratify  him  by  going 
with  his  father. 

In  proportion  to  the  pain  it  cost  the  noble 
lady  to  make  her  reappearance  before  the 
world  in  such  companionship,  was  the  ease 
with  which  all  doors  flew  open,  as  if  by 
magic,  wherever  Lootz  showed  the  cards  of 
the  Professorin  and  Sonnenkamp. 

The  lady  herself  was  often  unconscious" 
that  this  was  the  effect  of  her  presence ; 
she  only  knew  that  she  was  tightening 
between  herselfand  Sonnenkamp  the  bonds 
from  which  she  would  gladly  be  free,  and, 
whenever  she  returned  to  the  carriage,  she 
begged  him  not  to  say  so  much  about  her 
motherly  care  of  Roland.  Sonnenkamp, 
who  was  looked  upon  as  of  quite  secondary 
importance  by  the  persons  visited,  skilfully 
contrived  to  make  himself  the  central  point 
of  the  conversation  by  praising  the  Profes- 
sorin's  nobleness  of  spirit,  and  enlarging 
upon  his  own  great  happiness  in  being 
allowed  connection  with  such  a  family. 

On  th^s  excursion  Sonnenkamp  tasted  the 
best  pleasure  of  which  he  was  capable  ;  for 
his  highest  pleasure  was  in  hypocrisy,  and 
in  the  luxury  of  its  exercise,  he  forgot  his 
deep-rooted  indignation  at  the  pride  of  the 
resident  families,  who  were  now  obliged 
to  receive  him  as  an  equal.  Where  he 
hitherto  had  been  permitted  only  a  few  | 
hasty  and  unmeaning  words,  he  was  now  j 
allowed  comfortably  to  display  his  manifold 
experiences,  around  all  of  which  a  softening 
halo  was  cast  by  the  genuine  sentiment  that 
served  as  their  setting,  the  sentiment  of 


fatherly  affection.  His  manner,  also,  of 
confessing  that  he  had  not  always  thought 
as  favorably  as  he  should  of  human  nature, 
but  had  been  taught  by  the  Dournays  to 
honor  true  nobility  of  mind,  won  for  him 
the  reluctant  interest  of  all.  He  laughed 
to  himself,  as  he  went  down  the  steps,  at 
the  thought  of  persons  saying,  as  he  knew 
they  would,  "We  really  never  knew  the 
man  before ;  he  has  a  vast  deal  of  character 
and  great  sensibility." 

He  treated  with  especial  consideration 
the  members  of  the  committee  upon  orders, 
knowing  himself,  and  having  had  particu- 
larly enjoined  upon  him  by  Pranken,  the 
importance  of  gaining  them  over  to  his 
plan. 

Thus  had  Roland's  illness  given  a  fresh 
impulse  to  the  nobility  project ;  and  the 
Professorin  had,  against  her  will,  co-operated 
to  the  same  end. 

Sonnenkamp  could  not  do  enough  to 
testify  his  respect  for  the  lady  who,  after 
all,  had  gained  him  his  greatest  tri- 
umph. In  spite  of  her  refusal  to  come  to 
his  fete,  and  help  in  furthering  his  plan,  she 
had  now  become  his  tool.  He  never  grew 
tired  of  rejoicing  in  the  conviction  that  all 
mankind  could  be  used  like  puppets  ;  some 
were  to  be  bought  by  the  ringing  of  gold, 
and  some  by  the  ringing  of  their  own 
praises. 

CHAPTER  X. 

DECORATION  WITH  THREE  EXCLAMATION 
MARKS. 

An  audience  had  been  requested  of  the 
Princess,  that  the  Sonnenkamp  family  might 
present  their  thanks.  The  answer  returned 
was  that  the  Frau  Professorin  would  be 
welcome,  thus  refusing  to  admit  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

He  next  desired  that  Roland  should  write 
a  letter  of  thanks  to  the  Princess  for  the 
Professorin  to  hand  to  her,  but  several 
rough  drafts,  which  his  son  wrote  out,  he 
so  roughly  discarded,  that  the  poor  boy  was 
thrown  into  a  state  of  feverish  excitement 
which  threatened  to  bring  on  a  relapse. 
He  was  quieted  by  the  interposition  of  the 
Professorin,  who  promised  to  deliver  by 
word  of  mouth  all  that  he  had  to  say ;  but 
this  sceme  put  a  violent  end  to  the  childlike 
affectionateness  which  had  sprung  up  in 
him  since  his  illness. 

While  the  Professorin  was  at  the  palace, 
Sonnenkamp  promenaded  the  palace  garden, 
where  he  could  keep  in  sight  the  carriage 
and  servants,  determined  to  hear  at  once 
what  should  be  said  of  him  there.  This 
was  the  most  painful  experience  that  the 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


313 


Professorin  had  yet  had  to  undergo.  She 
was  obliged  to  acquiesce  in  the  Princess1 
praises  of  Sonnenkarap's  generous  nature, 
nis  extensive  charities,  and  his  noble  mag- 
nanimity, of  which  the  Cabinetsrathin, 
lady  of  honor  to  the  queen,  had  given  a 
full  report,  and  nothing  was  left  the  Profes- 
sorin but  to  listen,  without  the  power  to 
speak  a  word  of  contradiction.  It  was  a 
fresh  proof  to  her  of  the  false  position  in 
which  she  was  placed,  and  the  dishonest 
game  to  which  she  had  been  made  to  lend 
a  hand ;  first  in  the  convent,  and  now  at 
court.  Yet  she  dared  not  raise  her  voice 
against  this  noble  reputation  of  Sonnen- 
karap's, for  in  what  light  would  she  herself 
appear  if  she  should  confess  what  she 
knew  ? 

When  she  was  re-entering  the  carriage, 
after  her  audience  from  the  Princess,  a 
voice  which  cried  "  Stop  !"  made  her  trem- 
ble from  head  to  foot.  Sonnenkamp  seated 
himself  beside  her,  and  required  her  to  tell 
him  instantly  what  the  Princess  had  said. 
His  delight  at  her  report  made  him  so  far 
forget  himself  as  to  exclaim  aloud,  — 

"  Roland's  illness  has  been  a  blessing  to 
us  all,  — by  giving  us  the  right  to  call  the 
Frau  Professorin  our  friend,"  he  quickly 
added,  by  way  of  correction.  Even  that 
she  had  to  accept  in  silence,  and  was  fur- 
ther distressed  by  being  obliged  to  repeat 
the  Princess'  words  for  the  benefit  of 
Pranken,  who,  with  Clodwig,  now  joined 
them. 

She  felt  herself  hemmed  in  on  every 
side,  and  excusing  herself  early,  she  with- 
drew, in  the  hope  of  finding  again  in  soli- 
tude her  true  self. 

Clodwig  had  come,  as  member  of  the  Com- 
mittee upon  Orders,  to  announce  confiden- 
tially to  Sonnenkamp  that  an  order  had 
been  decreed  him.  Pranken  embraced  him 
when  they  were  again  alone  together,  ex- 
claiming, — 

"That  is  the  first  step,  the  first  sure  step." 

Sonnenkamp  was  greatly  delighted,  and 
begged  Pranken  to  wait  while  he  hurried  to 
carry  the  good  news  to  Frau  Ceres. 

"  So  that  is  for  you,"  she  said,  complain- 
ingly ;  44  what  is  there  for  me  ?  " 

He  assured  her  that  the  title  of  nobility 
would  certainly  follow  speedily. 

"Oh,  but  it  takes  so  long,"  she  com- 
plained. 

He  confessed  to  some  disappointment  and 
vexation  on  his  own  part  at  the  slowness 
and  formality  with  which  everything  in  the 
Old  World  was  conducted,  but  recommended 
patience. 

"It  is  a  good  thing,  to  be  sure,"  replied 


Frau  Ceres,  "that  you  should  have  an 
order ;  every  one  in  society  will  see  now  at 
once  that  you  are  not  a  servant." 

Sonnenkamp  smilingly  shook  his  head, 
but  avoided  any  long  discussions  with  Frau 
Ceres. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  carriage  after  car- 
riage drew  up  before  the  door  of  the  hotel, 
bringing  congratulations.  Sonnenkamp  af- 
fected great  modesty,  but  Roland  did  not 
dis%uise  his  pleasure  and  pride,  and  insisted 
that  his  father  should  never  go  out  without 
his  new  decoration. 

The  following  sentence,  however,  in  Pro- 
fessor Crutius's  paper  added  bitterness  to 
their  cup  of  joy :  — 

"  (Market  price  of  Honors).  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp, of  Villa  Eden,  transplanted  from 
Havana,  has  received,  from  the  highest 
quarter,  the  cross  of  honor  for  his  services, 
it  is  said,  in  the  ennobling  of  horticulture, 
which  includes  the  ennobling  of  the  horti- 
culturist. Nothing  now  is  wanting  in  the 
garden  of  Eden  but  that  genealogical  tree, 
which  flourishes  so  excellently  in  our  favored 
land." 

There  were  malicious  persons  enough 
ready  to  express  to  Sonnenkamp  their  in- 
dignation at  this  would-be  witty  sharpness, 
while  they  watched  him  with  curiosity  to  see 
what  face  he  would  put  upon  the  matter. 
He  appeared  quite  indifferent,  but  inwardly 
resolved  to  buy  over  that  most  virtuous  of 
moralists,  called  Public  Opinion. 

He  went  to  the  publishing  office,  was 
shown  into  the  editor's  room,  and  was  re- 
ceived with  the  utmost  politeness  by  Pro- 
fessor Crutius.  He  opened  the  conversa- 
tion by  saying  that  he  knew  very  well  how 
to  take  a  joke,  and  that  Jbis  life  in  America 
had  familiarized  him  with  publicity ;  which 
remarks  Crutius  saw  no  occasion  for  an- 
swering. With  great  condescension,  Son- 
nenkamp proceeded  to  express  his  pleasure 
at  finding  the  Professor  in  such  an  influen- 
tial position ;  Crutius  bowed  his  acknowl- 
edgments. A  little  gas  jet  was  burning  in 
the  editor's  room,  at  which  Sonnenkamp 
asked  permission  to  light  his  cigar,  offering 
one  at  the  same  time  to  Crutius,  who  ac- 
cepted with  thanks. 

"I  remember,"  began  Sonnenkamp,  "a 
bold  and  striking  remark  which  you  made 
on  the  occasion  of  my  having  the  honor  of 
receiving  a  visit  from  you;  you  had  the 
courage  to  say  that  America  was  approach- 
ing a  monarchical  form  of  government." 

"  I  remember  saying  so,"  replied  Crutius, 
"  half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  and  I 
threw  out  the  remark  not  merely  as  starting 
a  good  subject  of  conversation,  but  because 


314 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


I  was  of  opinion  that  the  reluctance  of  the 
best  men  in  America  to  take  part  in  politics 
was  a  sign  of  approaching  monarchy." 

"  And  you  are  no  longer  of  that  opinion  ? 11 
asked  Sonnenkamp,  as  Crutius  paused. 

He  knew  that  he  was  reported  to  be  in 
league  with  the  party  who  were  aiming  to 
form  an  empire  in  Mexico,  and  thence  to 
extend  the  monarchical  form  of  government 
over  the  New  W  orld.  It  was  a  harmless^  in 
some  respects,  an  honorable  reputation  to 
have,  that  of  being  an  agent  for  establishing 
a  monarchy  in  the  Southern  States  of  the 
Union.  Crutius  sat  for  some  time  in  silence, 
eyeing  the  figure  before  him  with  a  keen 
and  smiling  glance.    At  last  he  said  :  — 

"  I  am  no  longer  of  that  opinion.  The 
indifference  of  the  better  classes  in  America 
has  ceased,  as  is  evident  from  the  papers  as 
well  as  from  the  public  meetings.  I  have 
also  seen  some  letters  written  to  Herr  Weid- 
mann by  his  nephew  Dr.  Fritz,  which  plainly 
prove  that  a  change  for  the  better  has  taken 
place.  All  feel  again  their  rights  as  citizens, 
and  political  and  party  strife  is  everywhere 
uppermost." 

"Ah,  Herr  Weidmann,"  said  Sonnen- 
kamp ;  "lam  told  that  that  worthy  gentle- 
man has  a  share  in  your  paper." 

"I  know  no  man;  I  know  nothing  but 
party." 

"  The  true  American  principle.  That  is 
good  !  "  exclaimed  Sonnenkamp,  and  went 
on  to  express,  in  a  friendly  tone,  the  regret 
that  all  must  feel  at  seeing  the  press  here  so 
far  behind  the  high  standard  attained  in 
other  countries.  For  that  reason  he  should 
be  very  willing,  he  said,  if  a  man  of  the 
Professor's  experience  would  establish  a 
new  journal,  to  come  forward  to  its  support 
with  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  as  well 
as  to  communicate  important  items  of  intelli- 
gence from  his  private  correspondence. 

M  The  matter  is  worth  considering,"  re- 
plied Crutius.  He  went  to  his  strong  box 
and  opened  it,  evidently  with  the  intention 
of  returning  to  Sonnenkamp  the  money  he 
had  formerly  received  from  him,  but  saying, 
almost  in  so  many  words,  to  himself :  —  No, 
not  yet ;  you  shall  have  a  public  receipt  for 
it  by  and  by,  —  he  closed  the  box,  and,  re- 
suming his  seat  opposite  Sonnenkamp,  be- 
gan :  — 

"  I  have  an  apology  to  make  to  you  ;  at  the 
time  I  had  the  honor  of  visiting  you  at  your 
villa,  I  took  you  to  be  the  notorious  Ban- 
field." 

He  carefully  watched  the  expression  of 
his  visitor's  face  as  he  spoke. 

"  Thank  you  for  telling  me  so,"  replied 
Sonnenkamp,  very  tranquilly.  "The  only 
way  to  clear  up  such  a  misunderstanding  is 


I  to  tell  it  to  a  man's  face.  Unfortunately,  I 
j  have  been  often  confounded  with  that  man, 
I  and  once  actually  went  to  Virginia  in  order 
i  to  become  personally  acquainted  with  this 
j  double  of  mine  ;  but  he  died  just  as  I  ar- 
rived there." 

"  Indeed!  I  had  not  heard  of  his  death, 
and  am  somewhat  surprised  that  Herr 
Weidmann's  nephew,  who  was  at  open  war 
with  Banfield,  should  not  have  informed  me 
of  it.  But  it  is  astonishing  what  a  strong 
resemblance  there  is  between  yourself  and 
him.  Of  course  I  shall  not  mention  the  cir- 
cumstance in  my  obituary  of  Banfield." 

"  As  far  as  I  myself  am  concerned,"  said 
Sonnenkamp,  smiling,  "it  would  make  no 
difference  ;  but  you  know  the  delight  which 
the  European  aristocracy  takes  in  any 
American  scandal,  and  such  a  connection 
of  names  might  to  my  wife  and  children  be 
—  well,  might  be  very  disagreeable." 

Crutius  protested  that  all  personalities 
were  wholly  indifferent  to  him ;  he  dealt  only 
with  principles,  a  sentiment  which  Sonnen- 
kamp entirely  approved  and  considered  one 
of  the  advantages  of  European  culture. 

Crutius  accompanied  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
with  great  politeness,  through  the  outer 
offices  as  far  as  the  head  of  the  staircase ; 
but  the  air  of  the  room  seemed  to  oppress 
him  when  he  returned  to  it,  and  he  threw 
open  the  windows. 

"It  is  he,  nevertheless,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "Take  care,  Knight  of  the  Cross  of 
Honor,  I  have  hold  of  you  by  another  rib- 
bon, and  am  only  granting  you  a  little 
longer  time  to  flutter  about  me." 

He  hunted  up  the  paper  that  contained 
the  notice,  made  a  broad  red  mark  and 
three  exclamation  marks  on  the  margin,  and 
laid  the  sheet  by  in  a  special  compartment 
labelled,  "  For  future  use." 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  NEW  LIFE  IN  EVERYTHING.  / 

The  Prince  must  have  forgotten  that  he 
had  meant  to  send  for  Sonnenkamp,  who 
now  found  himself  deprived  of  all  opportu- 
nity of  expressing  his  thanks  in  person  to 
him  or  to  his  brother,  by  their  departure,  in 
company  with  many  nobles  of  the  court, 
and  Pranken  among  them,  for  a  royal 
hunting-seat  where  the  great  Spring  hunts 
were  to  be  held.  Pranken  had  left  the  cap- 
ital in  great  ill-humor  at  Herr  Sonnenkamp's 
having  been  guilty  of  the  impropriety  of 
entering  into  any  relations  with  the  editor 
of  a  newspaper. 

All  was  quiet  in  the  Hotel  Victoria. 
Eric's  mother  and  aunt  had  already  re- 
turned to  the  green  cottage,  and  Roland 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


315 


begged  and  entreated  every  day  that  the 
whole  family  might  break  up  their  estab- 
lishment in  the  Capital.  At  last  his  wish  was 
granted,  and  Sonnenkamp  favored  his  house, 
his  servants,  the  park  and  the  hot-houses, 
with  a  sight  of  the  glory  of  his  button-hole. 
This  decoration  he  brought  back,  and  could 
always  preserve  as  a  happy  memento  of  that 
winter  of  pleasure  and  of  pain.  Roland 
never  grew  weary  of  greeting  the  familiar 
objects  with  fresh  delight.  A  feeling  and 
love  of  home  seemed  to  be  roused  in  him, 
for  the  first  time,  in  its  full  intensity. 

"  I  see  now,11  he  said  to  Eric,  "  that  this 
living  in  hotels  and  anywhere  else  than  in 
one's  own  house  is  like  living  on  a  railway. 
I  can  go  to  sleep,  but  I  hear  all  the  time 
the  rattle  of  wheels  in  my  dreams.  That  is 
the  way  when  we  are  abroad,  but  now  we 
are  at  home  again,  and  I  have  a  grand- 
mother near  by  to  visit,  and  an  aunt,  and  the 
Major  is  a  kind  of  uncle,  and  Claus  is  like  a 
faithful  old  tower.  The  dogs  too  are  glad 
to  have  me  at  home  again.  Nora  looked 
at  me  a  little  strange  at  first,  but  soon  rec- 
ognized me,  and  her  pups  are  splendid. 
Now  we  will  be  busy  and  merry  again.  It 
would  be  nice  to  plant  a  tree  to  remember 
this  day  by.  and  have  you  plant  one  near  it, 
don1t  you  think  so  ?  Don't  you  feel  as  I  do, 
that  you  have  just  come  into  the  world,  and 
that  all  that  has  happened  before  was  only  a 
dream  ?  If  I  could  only  erect  something 
that  should  always  be  saying  to  me :  Re- 
member how  happy  you  once  were,  and 
how  happy  you  are,  and  let  nothing  further 
trouble  you  in  the  world.  Oh,  how  beauti- 
ful it  is  here !  The  Rhine  is  broader  than  I 
remembered  it,  and  the  mountains  look 
down  so  upon  me  !  I  think  I  saw  them  in 
my  fever,  but  not  so  beautiful  as  they  are 
now.  It  seems  as  if  I  could  compel  the 
vineyards  to  grow  green  at  once.11 

As  he  was  walking  with  Eric  along  the 
river  bank,  he  suddenly  stood  still  and 
said,  — 

"Hark,  how  the  waves  plash  against  the 
shore !  Just  so  have  they  rippled  and 
plashed  day  and  night  when  I  was  not  here. 
Would  it  not  be  beautiful  to  plunge  into  the 
waves  and  swim?  Does  not  the  rippling 
tempt  you  too  ?  It  seems  to  me  we  did  it 
centuries  ago." 

The  boy  had  awaked  to  new  life,  and 
thoughts  and  feelings  came  bubbling  cease- 
lessly from  his  heart,  as  from  an  ever  running 
fountain.  He  delighted  in  having  the  peo- 
ple he  met  tell  him  how  tall  he  had  grown, 
and  how  like  a  man  he  was  looking. 

Eric  listened  patiently  to  all  his  out- 
pourings ;  the  boy  was  tasting  the  double 


pleasure  of  returning  health  and  the  open- 
ing spring. 

"The  hen  cackles  for  herself  and  the 
cock,"  he  exclaimed,  the  first  time  he  heard 
a  hen ;  "  and  I  am  sure  it  is  as  beautiful  a 
sound  to  them,  as  the  song  of  the  nightin- 
gale is  to  us.  Don^  you  think  our  barn- 
yard hen  makes  a  great  deal  more  noise  over 
the  laying  of  an  egg  than  her  wild  sisters  ? 
No  female  of  all  the  wild  birds  of  the  forest 
sings  ;  the  hen  is  the  only  one.  Do  loojs  at 
the  grass  ;  how  beautifully  green  it  is,  and  the 
hedgerows  there !  The  green  leaves  and 
buds  would  like  to  pop  out  all  of  a  sudden 
and  cry,  Here  we  are  !  " 

So  he  chattered  on,  like  a  grateful  child. 

Only  a  little  at  a  time  could  the  studies 
be  resumed.  Eric  observed  a  certain  de- 
pression in  his  mother,  which  might  be  the 
result  of  her  anxiety  for  Roland,  whose 
illness  naturally  recalled  to  her  that  of  her 
own  son,  or  of  her  constant  care  for  the 
poor  in  the  neighborhood,  whose  calls  for 
help  were  increasing  as  their  winter  stores 
were  getting  exhausted.  Roland  was  de- 
sirous of  sharing  these  cares  with  her,  and 
of  being  allowed  to  take  some  of  the  gifts 
himself;  but  the  mother  would  not  permit 
it.  He  was  not  ready  for  that  yet,  she  said ; 
he  must  first  come  to  be  a  strong  man  him- 
self, able  to  carry  out  his  own  great  life- 
work. 

Roland  complained  that  he  did  not  see  the 
need  of  so  many  having  to  suffer  want,  when 
there  was  enough  in  the  world  to  satisfy 
everybody.  Eric  and  his  mother  had  to 
reason  with  him,  or  he  would  have  cursed 
wealth  as  a  misfortune  and  an  injustice. 
But  the  elasticity  of  youth  came  to  their  aid, 
and  the  boy  soon  forgot  how  much  misery 
there  was  in  the  world,  and  contented  him- 
self with  the  objects  immediately  about  him. 

Sonnenkamp  was  very  happy,  too,  for 
Eric  and  Roland  took  an  active  interest  in 
the  cultivation  of  the  trees,  and  he  could  be 
their  teacher. 

"  You  will  experience,  as  I  have,"  he 
often  said,  "that  the  greatest  pleasure  in 
the  world,  is  to  watch  the  growth  of  a  tree 
of  your  own  planting." 

The  buds  were  swelling  in  the  garden, 
while  across  the  river,  and  over  the  fields, 
floated  an  aromatic  breath  of  spring,  a  fra- 
grance as  if  the  air  had  blown  over  vast,  in- 
visible beds  of  violets.  Within  the  house 
was  a  cheerfulness  that  had  never  been 
known  there  before.  Even  Frau  Ceres 
could  not  escape  its  influence,  for  Roland 
shed  about  him  a  constant  atmosphere  of 
joy,  that  infected  all  who  came  in  contact 
with  him.    He  had,  moreover,  now,  as  he 


316 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


confided  to  the  Professorin,  a  project  in  his 
head,  of  which  he  would  not  betray,  even  to 
her,  the  exact  nature.  On  the  anniversary 
•of  his  birthday,  which  was  also  that  of 
Eric's  arrival,  he  meant  to  prepare  for 
everybody  such  a  joyful  surprise  as  they 
never  would  guess. 

The  grass  and  the  blossoms  had  come 
forth  in  the  garden,  the  birds  were  singing, 
and  the  boats  sailing  merrily  up  and  down 
the  river,  when,  on  the  day  preceding  Ro- 
land's birthday,  a  note  was  found  in  his 
room,  saying  that  the  family  must  not  be 
uneasy  about  him,  for  he  would  return  the 
next  day,  bringing  something  most  beauti- 
ful with  him. 

Upon  inquiry,  it  appeared  that  Roland  had 
set  off  with  Lootz  for  the  convent. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
ORESTES  AND  IPHIGENIA. 

Two  steamers,  one  bound  for  the  valley, 
the  other  for  the  mountains,  were  standing 
in  the  stream  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
island.  In  the  one  bound  for  the  valley 
was  Roland.  In  answer  to  his  impatient 
question  why  they  did  not  land,  the  captain 
silently  pointed  to  the  island,  where  a  pro- 
cession of  priests  and  nuns  were  following  a 
bier  covered  with  flowers,  and  borne  by 
girls  dressed  in  white.  The  voices  of  chil- 
dren, as  they  sang,  rose  on  the  clear  Spring 
air.  Roland's  heart  trembled ;  what  if  his 
sister  ? 

"  It  must  be  a  little  child,"  said  an  elder- 
ly man  standing  near  him  ;  "  the  bier  is  so 
small ;  those  young  girls  could  not  carry  it 
otherwise.11 

Roland  breathed^  more  freely ;  he  knew 
his  sister  must  be  among  the  mourners. 

He  had  landed,  and  was  standing  on  the 
bank  beside  the  boatman,  who  was  to  row 
him  over  to  the  island.  The  man  shook  his 
head  and  said  softly  : — 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet ;  but  perhaps  you  are 
a  relation  of  the  child  ?  " 

"What  child?11 

"  A  little  child  has  died  in  the  convent ; 
oh,  such  a  beautiful  child  !  it  made  one  hap- 
py only  to  look  at  her.  The  Lord  God  will 
have  to  make  but  little  change  to  turn  her 
into  an  angel." 

"  How  old  was  she  ? 11 

*'  Seven,  or  eight  at  the  most.  Hark, 
there  they  come  !  " 

The  bells  rang  out  into  the  Spring  air, 
the  smoke  of  the  incense  ascended,  as  the 
procession  moved  along  the  shore. 

The  boatman  took  off  his  hat,  and  prayed 
with  folded  hands.  Roland,  too,  stood  with 
uncovered  head,  and  with  a  sudden  shock 


he  thought :  Thus  might  I  have  been  borne 
to  the  grave.  Such  a  weakness  came  over 
him  that  he  was  obliged  to  sit  down ;  he 
kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  island ;  the 
procession  went  on,  then  disappeared,  and 
all  was  still. 

Now  they  were  sinking  the  young  body  in 
the  ground ;  the  birds  sang,  no  breath  of 
air  stirred,  a  steamboat  came  towards  the 
mountain ;  all  was  like  the  figures  in  a 
dream. 

The  procession  came  in  sight  again,  sing- 
ing, and  vanished  through  the  open  doors 
of  the  convent. 

"So,"  said  the  boatman,  putting  on  his 
hat,  "  now  I  will  row  you  across." 

But  Roland,  unwilling  to  surprise  his  sis- 
ter before  she  had  had  time  to  rest  and 
"compose  herself,  asked  to  be  allowed  to  re- 
main a  while  longer  on  the  shore.  It  was 
well  he  did,  for  no  one  in  the  convent  so 
felt  a  part  of  her  very  self  taken  from 
her,  as  Manna.  Dear  little  Heimchen  had 
held  out  for  a  whole  year,  seeming  to  grow 
more  cheerful,  and  making  good  progress 
in  her  studies,  but  in  the  Spring  she  faded, 
like  a  tenderly  nurtured  flower  too  early  ex- 
posed to  the  cold. 

Devotedly,  day  and  night,  Manna  nursed 
the  child,  who  with  her  was  always  happy. 
A  foretaste  of  heaven  seemed  granted  little 
Heimchen  ;  she  looked  forward  to  it  as  to  a 
Christmas  holiday,  and  often  said  to  Man- 
na that  she  should  tell  God,  and  all  the 
angels  in  heaven,  about  her.  The  next  mo- 
ment she  would  beg  Manna  to  tell  her 
about  Roland. 

"  I  saw  him  running  with  his  bow  and  ar- 
rows, and  oh,  he  was  so  beautiful  !  11 

Then  Manna  told  about  Roland,  and 
could  always  make  Heimchen  laugh  by  de- 
scribing how  his  little  pups  tumbled  one 
another  over  and  over.  The  physician,  and 
the  hospital  nun,  who  was  almost  a  doctor 
herself,  urged  Manna  to  take  more  rest,  but 
she  was  strong,  and  never  left  her  post.  In 
Manna^  arms  the  child  died,  and  her  last 
words  wer^ : — 

"  Good-morning,  Manna,  it  is  no  longer 
night  now." 

Manna^  experience  had  been  manifold. 
She  had  seen  a  novice  assume  the  dress  of 
the  order,  and  had  seen  a  fellow  pupil  enter 
her  novitiate  ;  yet  was  it  all  only  a  strong, 
free,  joyful  self-sacrifice.  Now  she  had 
witnessed  the  death  of  a  child,  a  little  hu- 
man being,  dropping  softly  and  silently 
from  the  tree  of  life,  as  a  blossom  falls  from 
the  stem. 

It  was  Manna  who,  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  bier,  had  helped  to  bear  the  child  to  the 
grave,  and  thrown  three  handfuls  of  earth 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


317 


upon  the  coffin.  She  did  not  shed  a  tear 
until  the  priest  described  how  the  child  had 
been  called  from  the  earth,  as  a  father 
might  summon  his  child  from  a  play-ground 
where  it  was  in  danger,  and  keep  it  safe  in 
his  home  ;  then  she  wept  bitterly. 

On  leaving  the  cemetery,  she  went  once 
more  to  Heiinchen's  empty  bed,  and  there 
prayed  God  that  she  might  enter  into  eter- 
nity as  pure  as  that  little  child.  Then  she 
grew  composed,  feeling  the  time  could  not 
be  far  distant  when,  after  a  short  return  to 
the  excitement  of  the  world,  the  great  Fath- 
er of  all  would  summon  her  away  from  this 
play-ground  into  -his  sheltering  mansions. 
She  seemed  already  to  hear  voices  from  the 
noisy  world  without,  calling  her  once  more 
to  return  to  it.  She  must  obey  them,  but 
made  a  firm  resolve  faithfully  to  return  into 
this,  her  one,  only  home. 

She  descended  to  the  island,  and  took  her 
seat  under  the  pine-tree  where  she  had  so 
often  worked.  There  was  the  little  bench 
on  which  Heimchen  had  sat  close  by  her 
side,  almost  at  her  feet.  Manna  sat  here 
long,  trying  to  imagine  the  distractions 
which  life  could  bring  to  her  in  this  one 
year,  but  she  did  not  succeed.  Her  thoughts 
would  return  to  Heimchen,  and  she  found 
herself  trying,  to  follow  the  young  soul  into 
the  eternity  of  Heaven. 

Suddenly  she  heard  steps,  and  looking  up 
saw  before  her  a  youth  who  was  like  Ro- 
land, only  much  taller,  and  more  manly. 
She  could  not  stir  from  her  seat. 

"Manna,  Manna,  come  to  me!"  cried 
the  boy. 

She  rose,  and  with  aloud  cry,  brother  and 
sister  fell  into  one  another's  arms. 

"  Sit  down  by  me,"  said  Manna  at  last. 
They  sat  together  upon.the  bench  beneath  the 
pine-tree,  and  Manna,  pointing  to  the  smal- 
ler bench,  told  of  Heimchen,  and  of  her  often 
wanting  to  hear  stories  about  Roland,  and 
when  she  came  to  tell  how  the  child  had 
died  of  homesickness,  she  suddenly  ex- 
claimed : — 

"Our  whole  life,  Roland,  is  nothing  but 
homesickness  for  our  heavenly  home  ;  of 
that  we  die,  and  happy  is  he  who  dies  of  it." 

Roland  perceived  that  his  sister  was  in  a 
state  of  overwrought  excitement,  amounting 
almost  to  ecstasy  ;  and  speaking  in  a  tone 
of  quiet  and  manly  decision,  he  told  her  that 
she  must  first  come  back  to  her  earthly 
home.  He  told  her  of  his  having  acted  in  a 
play,  and  having  been  photographed  in  his 
page's  silk  dress  ;  of  the  order  his  father 
had  received ;  and,  finally,  of  a  secret  his 
father  had  confided  to  him,  and  which  he 
could  not  tell. 


"Our  father  told  you  a  secret?"  asked 
Manna,  her  face  growing  rigid. 

"Yes,  and  a  beautiful,  noble  one;  you 
will  rejoice  with  me  when  you  hear  it." 

Manna's  features  relaxed. 

Roland  told  her  how  he  had  fancied  him- 
self with  her  all  through  his  delirium,  and 
that  she  ought  to  feel  only  happy  at  his  be- 
ing still  alive. 

"  Yes,  you  are  still  alive,"  cried  Manna, 
"  you  shall  live.    All  is  yours." 

He  reminded  her  that  to-morrow  was  his 
birthday,  and  that  his  own  wish  was  that 
she  would  let  him  take  her  to  their  parents 
on  that  day. 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  with  you,"  cried  Manna, 
"  and  it  is  better  we  should  go  directly." 

Hand  in  hand,  the  brother'and  sister  went 
to  the  convent,  where  Manna  told  the  Su- 
perior of  her  intention  to  go  home  with  Ro- 
land. In  a  state  of  feverish  excitement, 
she  then  hurried  to  bid  good-bye  to  all 
her  fellow  pupils,  and  all  the  nuns,  went 
into  the  church  and  prayed,  and  finally 
made  Roland  go  with  her  to  Heimchen's 
grave. 

Roland  observed  a  long,  straight  row  of 
gravestones  without  inscriptions,  and,  on 
asking  Manna  about  them,  was  told  they 
marked  the  graves  of  the  nuns. 

"That  is  hard,"  said  Roland,  "to  have 
to  be  nameless  after  death." 

"It  is  but  natural,"  returned  Manna; 
"  whoever  takes  the  veil  lays  aside  her  fam- 
ily name  and  assumes  a  sacred  one,  which 
is  hers  until  her  death,  and  then  another 
bears  it." 

"  I  understand."  said  Roland.  "  That  is 
giving  up  a  great  deal.  The  name  of  the 
nun  cannot  be  written  on  the  gravestone, 
nor  the  family  name  either ;  yet  there  must 
be  a  great  many  of  noble  family  buried 
here." 

"  Yes,  indeed;  almost  all  were  noble." 

"  What  should  you  say  if  we  should  be 
noble  too  ?  " 

"Roland,  what  do  you  mean?"  cried 
Manna,  seizing  him  violently  by  the  arm. 
"  Can  you  speak  of  such  a  thing  here  and 
now  ?  Come  away ;  such  thoughts  are  a 
desecration. to  the  graves." 

She  led  him  out  of  the  little  burial-place, 
and  as  far  as  the  gravel  path,  when,  sud- 
denly leaving,  him  she  turned  once  more  to 
the  cemetery  and  knelt  down  by  the  grave  ; 
then  she  rejoined  her  brother. 

Lootz  was  standing  with  the  luggage 
ready ;  Manna  stepped  into  the  boat  with 
Roland,  and  the  brother  and  sister  were 
.borne  up  the  stream  toward  their  home.  All 
in  the  boat  gazed  with  a  pleased  curiosity  at 


318 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


the  pair,  who,  however,  sat  quietly  hand  in 
hand,  looking  out  upon  the  broad  land- 
scape. 

"Tell  me,"  urged  Roland,  "why  you 
said,  when  you  were  going  to  that  convent, 
that  you,  too,  were  an  Iphigenia?  11 

"  I  cannot  tell  you.1' 

"  Oh  yes,  you  can  ;  I  know  all  about  her. 
I  have  read  the  Iphigenia  of  Euripides,  and 
of  Goethe,  too,  by  myself  and  with  Eric, 
and  you  are  like  neither  of  them." 

"It  was  only  ah,  let  us  forget  all 

about  it." 

"Do  you  know,"  cried  Roland,  "that 
Iphigenia  became  .the  wife  of  the  great  hero 
Achilles  and  lived  with  him,  on  the  island 
of  Leuce,  in  eternal  blessedness  ?  " 

Manna  confessed  her  ignorance,  and  Ro- 
land described  the  copy  of  the  Pompeian 
fresco  that  Eric's  mother  had  showed  him, 
where  Calchas,  the  priest,  is  holding  the 
knife,  Diomedes  and  Odysseus  are  bearing 
Iphigenia  to  the  altar,  and,  her  father,  Aga- 
mennon,  hides  his  face,  while,  at  the  com- 
mand of  Artemis,  one  of  the  nymphs  leads 
in  the  stag  that  is  to  be  sacrificed  in  Iphi- 
genia's  place. 

"  How  many  things  you  have  learned," 
smiled  Manna. 

"  And  Eric  told  me,"  continued  Roland, 
"  that  the  sacrifice  of  Iphigenia  was  just  like 
that  of  Isaac,  and  all  the  other  sacrifices  we 
read  about." 

Manna's  face  darkened ;  that  was  the 
foundation  of  a  fatal  heresy. 

"  Stop,  now  I  have  it,"  cried  Roland. 
"  Ah,  that  is  good  !  There  are  still  oracles 
in  the  world.  Orestes  had  to  fetch  his  sis- 
ter from  the  temple  of  Tauris,  where  she 
was  priestess.  That  is  it!  You  divined 
it !  That  will  delight  Eric  ;  ah  !  how  it  will 
delight  him  !  But  stay  !  When  Iphigenia 
and  her  brother  were  on  board  ship  I  am 
sure  he  must  have  played  off  all  sorts  of 
silly  tricks  to  amuse  her,  and  I  am  sure  she 
laughed.  Have  you  quite  forgotten  how  to 
laugh  ?  You  used  to  laugh  so  merrily,  just 
like  a  wood-pigeon.    Do  laugh  just  once." 

He  laughed  with  his  whole  heart,  but 
Manna  remained  unmoved,  and,  during  the 
way,  sat  buried  in  her  own  thoughts.  Only 
once,  when  the  boat  came  to  a  sudden  stop 
in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  she  asked :  — 

"What  is  that?" 

"  That  is  the  very  question  I  asked  Eric 
when  we  were  going  up  the  river  together, 
and  he  showed  me  up  there  a  heavily-laden 
freight  vessel,  which  would  be  overturned 
and  sunk  by  the  commotion  of  the  water, 
if  our  steamer  did  not  moderate  its  speed.. 
Oh,  there  is  nothing  he  does  not  know,  and 
then  he  said :  Remember,  Roland,  that  we 


should  do  the  same  thing  in  life  ;  we  must  not 
rush  on  our  own  way,  but  must  think  of  the 
heavily-laden  voyagers  on  the  stream  of  life 
with  us,  and  take  care  that  the  waves  we 
raise  do  not  overwhelm  them." 

Manna  stared  at  her  brother.  She  could 
trace  the  influence  of  a  man  who  used  the 
actual  as  a  symbol  of  the  ideal,  and  she  be- 
came herself,  in  a  measure,  conscious  of 
that  power  which  in  every  outward  aspect 
of  life  seeks  and  finds  the  underlying 
thought.  She  shook  her  head,  and  opening 
her  breviary,  began  diligently  to  read  it. 

"  See  the  sunlight  on  the  glass  cupola," 
cried  Roland,  as  it  grew  late  in  the  after- 
noon. "  That  is  home.  Perhaps  they  have 
guessed  at  home  that  you  are  coming  back 
with  me.'1 

"Home,  home,"  breathed  Manna  softly 
to  herself ;  the  word  sounded  strange  to  her 
on  her  own  lips,  as  it  had  done  from  Ro- 
land's. She  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  dazzled 
by  the  reflection  on  the  glass  cupola. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
NOTHING  BUT  EYES. 

Two  carriages  were  waiting  at  the  land- 
ing. Manna  received  the  embraces  and 
kisses  of  her  father  without  returning  them, 
and  watched,  in  apparent  terror,  the  reced- 
ing steamer,  which,  after  quickly  landing 
its  passengers,  went  swiftly  on  its  way. 

"  Your  mother  is  in  the  carriage,"  said 
Sonnenkamp,  offering  Manna  his  arm.  She 
laid  her  hand  timidly  upon  it,  allowed  her- 
self to  be  led  to  the  glass  carriage,  in  which 
sat  Frau  Ceres  and  Fräulein  Perini,  and, 
taking  her  seat  beside  her  mother,  embraced 
her  passionately. 

Sonnenkamp  and  Roland  entered  the 
other  carriage,  and  all  drove  toward  the 
villa.  The  father  muttered  something  to 
himself  about  not  having  heard  the  sound 
of  his  daughter's  voice. 

"  Where  is  Eric  ?  "  asked  Roland. 

' '  In  the  green  cottage  with  his  mother.  It 
was  considerate  on  the  part  of  a  stranger  to 
retire  to  his  own  relations  at  such  a  time, 
and  leave  the  family  alone." 

Roland  was  struck  by  the  words.  Were 
Eric  and  his  family  strangers  ? 

On  arriving  at  the  villa,  Fräulein  Perini 
also  withdrew  hastily,  and  went  to  the 
Priest's  house,  whence  a  messenger  was 
soon  despatched  to  the  telegraph  station. 

The  parents  were  alone  with  their  chil- 
dren, but  there  seemed  a  chill  in  the  room 
which  banished  all  feeling  of  quiet  and  com- 
fort. 

Sopnenkamp  and  Roland  took  Manna  to 
her  room,  where  she  was  pleased  to  find 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


319 


everything  in  its  old  place,  and,  at  sight  of 
the  open  fire-place  filled  with  beautiful 
growing  plants,  turned  to  her  father  and 
thanked  him,  offering  him  her  hand  for  the 
first  time,  and  kissing  his ;  but  she  could 
not  repress  a  shudder  at  touching  the  ring 
on  his  thumb. 

When  Roland  was  left  alone  with  his  sis- 
ter, he  urged  her  to  visit  his  grandmother 
and  aunt  that  very  day ;  but  Manna  re- 
proved him  for  giving  such  names  to  per- 
sons not  really  related  to  him. 

"  Ah,  but  you  must  love  them  too,"  said 
Roland. 

"Must?  One  can  love  nobody  upon 
compulsion.  Let  me  tell  you,  Roland  — 
but  no  ;  there  is  no  need." 

She  yielded  at  last  to  his  persuasions, 
and  went  with  him  through  the  new  gate- 
way in  the  garden  wall,  along  the  meadows 
by  the  shore. 

"  There  goes  Eric ;  I  will  call  him.  Eric  ! 
Eric !  "  cried  Roland  in  a  loud  voice. 

The  figure  did  not  turn,  however,  but 
kept  on,  and  presently  disappeared  among 
the  shrubbery. 

Roland  and  Manna  found  the  Professorin 
waiting  for  them  upon  the  steps,  and  Man- 
na received  a  hearty  welcome. 

"  He  gave  me  no  peace  till  I  consented 
to  come  to  you,"  said  Manna. 

"  So  he  makes  you  mind  like  the  rest  of 
us,  does  he  ?  "  said  the  lady  with  mock  se- 
verity. "Let  me  tell  you,  my  dear  child, 
that  I  know  this  wild  boy  has  said  a  great 
deal  to  you  about  me,  and  would  like  to 
force  you  to  love  me ;  but  even  the  best  in- 
tentioned  urgency  in  such  matters  should 
be  avoided.  Glad  as  I  shall  be  if  we  can 
be  good  friends,  we  yet  will  not  be  forced 
upon  each  other." 

Manna  looked  in  amazement  on  the 
Mother,  who  asked  a  great  many  questions 
about  the  convent,  and  advised  her  to  re- 
main much  alone,  as  the  sudden  change 
from  a  life  of  seclusion  to  one  of  excitement 
might  injure  her  habits  of  thought,  as  well 
as  her  health. 

Manna  felt  herself  cheered  by  intercourse 
with  this  quiet,  composed,  harmonious  na- 
ture ;  only  the  room  looked  strange  to  her 
with  no  images  of  saints  about.  Her  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  'the  sewing-machine, 
and  the  Mother  had  readily  consented  to 
instruct  her  in  the  use  of  it  when  Aunt 
Claudine  entered,  whose  dignified  bearing 
interested  Manna  even  more  than  the  Mo- 
ther had  done. 

"You  and  Aunt  Claudine,"  exclaimed 
Roland,  "  have  two  things  in  common. 
She  is  a  star  gazer  like  you,  and  plays  the 
harp  as  you  do." 


Aunt  Claudine  did  not  require  much  urg- 
ing, but  willingly  played  Manna  a  piece  on 
the  harp. 

"  I  shall  be  very  grateful  if  you  will  ac- 
cept me  as  a  pupil,"  said  Manna  offering 
her  hand ;  and  the  beautiful  nervous  hand 
which  grasped  hers  gave  her  more  pleasure 
by  its  touch,  than  she  had  found  in  the  soft 
little  plump  one  of  the  Professorin. 

When  it  grew  evening,  the  Mother  and 
Aunt  set  out  with  Roland  and  Manna 
towards  the  villa,  Manna  walking  with  the 
Aunt,  and  Roland  with  the  Professorin. 
On  the  way  Eric  met  them. 

"  At  last !  "  cried  Roland.  "Now,  Man- 
na, here  he  is  ;  here  you  have  him." 

Manna  and  Eric  exchanged  formal  bows. 

"Why  don't  you  speak?  Have  you 
both  lost  your  tongue  ?  Eric,  this  is  my 
sister  Manna  ;  Manna,  this  is  my  friend,  my 
brother,  my  Eric." 

"  Don't  be  excited,  Roland,"  said  Eric, 
and  there  was  a  ringing  tone  in  his  voice 
that  made  Manna  involuntarily  raise  her 
eyes  to  him.  "Yes,  Fraulein,  this  is  the 
second  time  I  have  met  you  in  the  twi- 
light." 

Manna  almost  began  to  say  that  she  had 
seen  him  once  in  broad  daylight,  when  she 
had  not  spoken  to  him,  but  had  heard  in- 
spiring notes  from  him ;  but  she  checked 
herself  and  pressed  her  lips  together.  .  Ro- 
land broke  the  pause  that  ensued,  by  saying 
urgently :  —  | 

"  Come  into  the  house ;  then  you  will  see 
one  another  by  lamplight.  It  is  just  a  year 
ago,  this  hour,  since  I  ran  away ;  can  it  be 
only  a  year?  Ah,  Manna,  you  cannot  im- 
agine how  many  hundred  years  I  have  lived 
through  in  this  one.  I  am  as  old  as  the, 
hills,  as  old  as  that  laughing  sprite  the  groom 
told  me  about." 

He  repeated  the  story  to  his  two  willing 
listeners.  When  he  had  ended,  Eric  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  staying  till  the  next 
day  with  his  mother,  for  every  one  who  was 
not  a  blood  relation  was  a  stranger  at  such 
a  time  as  this.  Roland  would  hear  nothing 
of  his  being  a  stranger,  but  Manna's  eyes 
as  they  gleamed  in  the  darkness  seemed  to 
grow  larger. 

At  the  new  gateway  the  party  divided, 
Roland  and  his  sister  going  to  the  villa,  and 
Eric  returning  to  the  green  cottage  with  his 
mother  and  aunt.  For  the  second  time  he 
had  seen  Manna,  and  for  the  second  time 
she  had  seemed  nothing  but  eyes. 

How  strange  that  this  man  should  look 
like  the  picture  of  Saint  Anthony,  thought 
Manna,  when  she  was  alone  in  her  room ; 
there  seemed  to  me  no  point  of  resemblance 
between  them ;  some  passing  look  of  his, 


320 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


an  expression  of  his  eyes,  must  have  re- 
minded Roland  of  the  picture  •  she  too  had 
seen  nothing  of  Erie  but  his  tall  figure  and 
his  eyes. 

She  knelt  long  in  prayer,  and  as  she  took 
off  her  clothes  afterwards,  she  drew  more 
tightly  round  her  waist  a  girdle — only  a 
little  cord  it  was,  which  one  of  the  nuns  had 
given  her  —  so  tightly  that  it  cut  into  her 
flesh. 

f  CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  MORNING  GIFT. 

Before  daylight  Roland  was  at  Eric's 
bedside,  and  waked  him,  saying  :  — 

"  I  will  go  with  you  to-day.1' 

Eric  could  not  think  what  the  boy  meant, 
till  he  reminded  him  of  his  having  said  that 
he  ought,  at  least  once  every  year,  to  go  up 
on  some  hill  and  see  the  sun  rise.  Eric  re- 
membered saying  so,  and,  hastily  putting 
on  his  clothes,  they  walked  together  up  a 
neighboring  eminence.  A  year  ago  that 
morning,  Roland  said  he  had  for  the  first 
time  seen  the  sun  rise ;  then  he  was  alone, 
now  with  a  friend. 

"  Let  us  keep  silent,"  advised  Eric.  They 
looked  towards  the  east,  and  saw  the  light 
gradually  appear.  A  new  light  dawned  in 
Roland's  mind  ;  he  saw  that  all  the  splen- 
dor and  glory  of  the  world  is  nothing,  com- 
pared with  the  light  which  belongs  alike  to 
all.  The  richest  can  make  for  himself 
nothing  higher  than  the  sunlight,  which 
shines  for  the  poorest  in  his  hovel ;  the  fair- 
est and  the  highest  belongs  to  all  mankind. 

Roland  fell  into  a  sort  of  ecstasy,  and 
Eric  with  difficulty  refrained  from  pressing 
.him  to  his  heart.  He  was  happy,  for  the 
sun  had  risen  in  Roland,  ' the  sun  of  thought 
which  can  never  set ;  clouds  may  obscure 
it,  but  it  stands  and  shines  for  ever. 

The  two  descended  to  the  river,  and  bathed 
joyfully  in  it  under  the  early  light,  and  to 
each  the  water  was  as  a  new  baptism.  The 
bells  were  ringing  as  they  returned  to  the 
villa,  and  in  the  distance  they  saw  Manna 
going  to  church. 

Herr  Sonnenkamp  also  had  risen  early, 
and  paid  a  morning  visit  to  the  Professorin. 

"  I  have  followed  your  good  advice,"  he 
said,  "  and  made  Roland  no  present  to-day. 
Your  account  of  the  way  in  which  royal 
children  keep  their  birthday  was  charming  ; 
they  are  not  to  receive,  but  to  give.  I  have 
followed  your  suggestions  in  every  particu- 
lar, and  given  Roland  nothing  but  the  means 
and  opportunity  of  bestowing  upon  others  ; 
I  owe  you  double  thanks  for  allowing  me  to 
take  the  entire  credit  of  the  idea.  Any  ap- 
proach to  untruthfulness  is  distasteful  to 


me,  but  for  my  son's  sake,  I  venture  to 
practice  a  little  deception  to-day." 

The  lady  pressed  her  lips  together. 
Here  was  this  man,  whose  whole  life  was  a 
lie,  trying  to  pass  himself  off  for  a  man  of 
truth !  But  she  had  already  taught  herself 
not  to  be  always  inquiring  too  closely  into 
the  motives  of  good  deeds.  She  asked 
about  the  presents  that  Roland  was  to  dis- 
tribute, and  finally  yielded  to  Sonnenkamp's 
desire  that  she  should  accompany  him  to 
the  villa. 

As  they  approached  the  door,  a  carriage 
drove  up  from  which  jumped  Pranken.  He 
had  come,  he  said,  because  it  was  Roland's 
birthday,  and  expressed  great  pleasure  at 
hearing  that  Manna  also  had  arrived :  Fräu- 
lein Perini's  telegram  he  thought  it  needless 
to  mention.  As  he  stood  upon  the  terrace 
overlooking  the  Rhine,  he  saw  Manna  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  terrace  with  a  little 
book  in  her  hand,  and  could  perceive  the 
motion  of  her  lips  as  she  repeated  the  words 
from  it. 

Fräulein  Perini  soon  appeared,  and  ex- 
changed a  few  whispered  words,  with  Pran- 
ken. Great  was  her  pride  at  having  frus- 
trated the  cunningly  woven  plans  of  this 
Professor's  family,  which  so  plumed  itself 
on  its  lofty  sense  of  honor.  There  was  no 
doubt  in  her  mind  that  the  idea  of  bringing 
Manna  from  the  convent  had  originated 
with  Eric,  and  she  saw  further  evidence  of 
his  plotting,  in  the  girl's  having  been  taken 
to  the  green  cottage  on  the  very  evening  of 
her  arrival,  and  returning  delighted  with  the 
whole  family,  especially  with  Aunt  Claudine. 
With  a  knowing  look  at  Pranken,  Fräulein 
Perini  slyly  remarked  that  the  Aunt  was 
kept  as  a  reserve  to  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  Manna,  but  she  hoped  that  Pranken 
and  herself  would  be  able  to  hold  the  field. 

At  last  Manna  herself  came  upon  the  ter- 
race, and  again  offered  her  left  hand  to 
Pranken,  as  in  the  right  she  held  her  prayer- 
book.  She  thanked  him  cordially  for  his 
congratulations  that  this  beautiful  spring 
morning  found  no  blossom  wanting  on  the 
family  tree,  and,  as  he  undertook  to  read 
what  was  in  her  mind,  and  interpret  her 
feelings  at  finding  herself  once  more  under 
her  father's  roof,  she  said  quietly  :  — 

"  It  is  a  tent  which  is  spread  and  folded 
again." 

With  great  tact  Pranken  seized  upon  the 
expression  ;  he  was  sufficiently  familiar  with 
the  ecclesiastical  manner  of  speaking,  to  be 
able  to  construct  the  whole  contingent  of 
meditation  and  reflection,  from  which  this 
single  remark  had  been  thrown  like  a  soli- 
tary soldier  on  a  reconnoissance.  He  talked 
with  no  little  eloquence  of  our  pilgrimage 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


321 


through  the  desert  of  life,  until  we  reached 
the  promised  land,  adding  that  the  old  man 
in  us  must  die,  for  only  the  new  man  was 
worthy  to  possess  the  land  of  promise. 

There  was  a  certain  conversational  fluen- 
cy in  Pranken's  manner  of  speaking  which 
at  -  first  repelled  Manna,  but  she  seemed 
pleased,  upon  the  whole,  to  find  this  care- 
fully trained,  versatile  man  at  home  in  this 
sphere  of  thought.  The  fact  of  his  belong- 
ing to  the  church,  and  therefore  living 
among  the  same  ideas  with  herself,  seemed 
to  form  a  bond  of  attraction  between  them. 
When  at  length  he  drew  out  of  his  pocket 
the  Thomas  a  Kempis  she  had  given  him, 
and  told  her  that  to  that  he  owed  whatever 
of  good  was  in  him,  she  cast  down  her  eyes, 
and,  laying  her  hand  upon  the  book,  said 
hurriedly,  as  she  heard  the  voices  of  the  Pro- 
fessorin £nd  the  Major  approaching :  4 '  Pray 
put  the  book  back,  away." 

Pranken  obeyed,  and  while  his  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  Manna,  kept  his  hand  pressed 
on  the  book,  which  lay  against  his  heart. 
This  common  secret  established  a  degree 
of  intimacy  at  once  between  himself  and  the 
pure,  reserved  girl. 

The  Major  examined  Manna  as  he  would 
have  done  a  recruit,  making  her  turn  round 
and  round,  and  walk  this  way  and  that,  that 
he  might  judge  of  her  way  of  moving,  all 
which  evolutions  Manna  went  through  with 
great  good  humor. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said  at  length,  extending 
the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand,  as  he  always 
did  when  about  to  bring  forth  a  piece  of 
wisdom  ;  "  yes,  yes  ;  when  it  works  well,  it 
is  all  right.  Yes,  yes  ;  Herr  Sonnenkamp, 
when  it  works  well,  it  is  right,  this  sending 
a  young  man  into  the  army  and  a  young 
woman  into  a  convent,  for  a  while.  When 
it  works  well,  it  is  all  right." 

All  nodded  assent,  and  the  Major  was 
enchanted  at  having  begun  the  day  by  say- 
ing a  good  thing.  But  he  soon  changed  his 
tone  to  one  of  complaint  at  Roland's  absence  ; 
he  did  not  deserve  his  happiness,  keeping 
oat  of  the  way  on  such  an  anniversary  as 
this,  such  a  beautiful  spring  dayj  too,  that  if 
they  had  ordered  it  expressly  it  could  not 
have  been  finer.  He  was  just  about  to  re- 
late the  fearful  adventure  in  the  special 
train,  which  took  place  just  a  year  ago  that 
very  day,  when  Roland  and  Eric  at  last  ap- 
peared. 

Manna  embraced  her  brother  affection- 
ately, as  did  Pranken  also,  but  Roland 
quickly  disengaged  himself  from  the  latter' s 
grasp,  and  said  to  Manna  :  — 

"  Shake  hands  with  Herr  Eric  too,  for 
this  is  his  birthday  amongst  us.    A  year 


ago  to-day  he  became  mine,  or  I  his ;  did 
you  not,  Eric  ?    Give  him  your  hand." 

Manna  offered  Eric  her  hand,  and  for  the 
first  time  the  two  looked  one  another  full  in 
the  face,  in  the  broad  daylight. 

"Thank  you  for  the  kindness  you  have 
shown  my  brother,"  said  Manna. 

Eric  was  much  struck  by  Manna's  ap- 
pearance ;  she  seemed  to  him  a  wonderful 
mixture  ofgentle  melancholy  and  lofty  pride  ; 
her  features  expressed  a  cold  indifference ; 
her  motions  were  full  of  grace ;  there  was  a 
bewitching  softness  in  her  voice,  but  mingled 
with  a  tone  of  sadness. 

Without  knowing  or  wishing  it,  Manna 
became  the  central  point  of  attraction  ;  even 
on  this  fete-day  of  Roland's,  all  seemed  to 
turn  to  her. 

Presently  the  party  adjourned  to  the  great 
hall,  where  were  Eric's  mother  and  aunt, 
Fräulein  Perini  and  Frau  «Ceres.  Frau 
Ceres  had  such  fear  of  the  morning  air  that 
all  the  windows  were  tight  shut.  She  was 
yawning  when  Roland  entered,  but  em- 
braced and  kissed  him.  The  Professorin 
also  embraced  him,  saying :  — 

"  I  wish  you  happiness;  that  is,  I  wish 
for  you  a  constantly  growing  appreciation 
of  the  happiness  that  has  been  granted  you, 
and  a  knowledge  how  to  use  it." 

Sonnenkamp  shrugged  his  shoulders  at 
these  words,  and  said  to  Pranken,  by  whom 
he  was  standing :  — 

"  How  this  woman  is  always  trying  to  say 
something  out  of  the  common  course  !  She 
has  actually  forgotten  at  last  how  to  say  a 
simple  good-morning." 

"  Let  us  be  thankful,"  rejoined  Pranken, 
"  that  she  has  not  yet  remarked,  — As  my 
departed  husband,  Professor  Mummy,  used 
to  say." 

The  two  men  spoke  without  any  change 
of  expression,  so  that  no  one  heard  or  ob- 
served them. 

Upon  a  great  table  lay  a  number  of  pack- 
ages, each  inscribed  with  a  name.  The 
Professorin,  with  Fräulein  Milch,  had  made 
a  list  of  the  boys  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Roland's  own  age,  who  were  to  have  pres- 
ents given  them  on  his  birthday.  They 
were  mostly  apprentices  about  to  set  out  on 
their  travels,  laborers  on  the  Rhine  boats, 
or  in  the  vineyards :  some  poor  and  needy 
persons  had  also  been  thought  of,  and  for 
every  one  a  suitable  gift  was  provided.  In 
the  middle  of  the  table  lay  a  large  envelope 
which  Sonnenkamp  had  hastily  placed  there 
on  his  entrance,  and  on  which  was  written : 
"  For  my  friend  and  teacher,  Captain  Doc- 
tor Eric  Dournay." 

Roland's  quick  eye  soon  discovered  the 


322 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


envelope,  and  he  handed  it  to  Eric,  who,  on 
opening  it,  found  a  package  of  banknotes 
to  a  considerable  amount.  His  hand  trem- 
bled ;  for  a  moment  he  looked  about  him, 
then  replaced  the  bills  in  the  envelope,  and 
advancing  to  Sonnenkamp,  who  was  stand- 
ing by  Manna  and  Pranken,  and  had  just 
spoken  some  words  in  a  low  tone  to  the  lat- 
ter, held  the  envelope  towards  him,  and,  in 
a  voice  so  agitated  that  he  could  scarcely 
enunciate  a  word,  begged  him  to  take  back 
his  gift. 

"  No,  no  ;  do  not  thank  me  ;  it  is  I  who 
should  thank  you.11 

Eritfs  eyes  were  cast  to  the  ground,  but 
he  raised  them  and  said,  — 

"Excuse  me,  I  have  never  in  my  life 
accepted  any  present,  and  am  unwilling  —  11 

"A  man  of  independence  like  you,"  in- 
terrupted Pranken,  "  should  waste  no  words 
on  the  matter*  Take  the  gift  as  cordially 
as  it  was  given.11 

He  spoke  as  one  of  the  family,  almost  as 
if  he  had  presented  the  money  himself. 
Eric  stood  abashed,  not  knowing  how  to 
refuse  the  gift  without  seeming  ungrateful 
and  over  delicate.  As  his  eyes  fell  upon 
Manna,  a  pang  shot  through  his  heart  at 
the  thought  of  having  to  appear  before  her, 
on  this  first  morning,  as  a  needy  receiver  of 
money.  He  looked  at  her  as  if  imploring 
her  to  speak  to  him,  but  she  kept  silent ; 
seeing  no  other  course  open  for  him, 
he  drew  back  the  hand  which  held  the 
package,  and  soon  after  disappeared  from 
the  room. 

Without,  in  the  park,  he  walked  thought- 
fully to  and  fro  for  a  while,  then,  sitting 
down  on  the  bench  where  Bella  had  sat, 
opened  the  envelope  and  counted  the 
money ;  it  amounted  to  a  sum  large  enough 
to  support  a  moderate  family.  As  he  sat 
there  dreaming  and  unconscious,  holding 
the  envelope  between  his  two  hands,  and 
deaf  to  the  song  of  the  birds  in  the  trees 
and  shrubs  about  him,  his  name  was  sud- 
denly called,  and  the  servant  Joseph 
handed  him  a  letter  from  Professor  Einsiedel, 
congratulating  him  upon  the  anniversary, 
and  admonishing  him  to  earn  money  enough 
to  enable  him  to  lead  an  independent  life, 
wholly  devoted  to  pure  science.  The  Pro- 
fessor repeated  his  wish,  that  there  might  be 
some  place  of  retreat  established  for  the 
reception  of  men  of  science  in  their  old  age. 

Greatly  comforted,  Eric  returned  to  the 
company  in  the  drawing-room,  who  had 
scarcely  missed  him. 

"That  is  the  way  with  these  idealists, 
these  reformers,  these  priests  of  humanity,11 
said  Pranken  to  Sonnenkamp.  "  See  how 
the  Doctor  looks  as  if  he  had  got  wings  ! 


Yes,  that  is  the  way  with  them.  They  de- 
spise money,  till  they  have  it  themselves.'" 

Pranken  had  observed  aright.  Eric  did 
in  truth  feel  himself  endowed  with  a  new 
power,  but  also  the  thought  arose  in  him : 
Now  you  too  are  rich,  and  can  care  for  others 
besides  yourself.  Observing,  presently,  that 
he  was  keeping  his  hand  upon  the  breast- 
pocket which  contained  the  money,  he  drew 
it  away  as  if  it  had  been  upon  coals. 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  FEAST  WITH  UNEXPECTED  DISHES. 

The  Major  and  Roland  set  out  upon  the 
performance  of  a  most  pleasant  office. 
They  had  the  pony  harnessed  to  the  little 
wagon,  in  which  all  the  packages  were  put, 
and  drove  through  the  hamlets,  stopping  at 
the  various  houses,  and  personally  distrib- 
uting the  gifts.  First  of  all  they  drove  to 
Clause,  in  whom  the  last  winter  had  worked 
a  great  change.  After  the  first  expressions 
of  sympathy  had  been  received  from  his 
neighbors,  and  he  had  once  washed  down 
all  thought  and  care  with  a  good  drink,  he 
took  to  mitigating  his  troubles  by  the  all- 
obliterating  wine,  or  by  brandy,  if  he  could 
get  no  better.  His  wife  and  children  were 
in  despair  at  this  change  in  him,  and  once 
the  family  came  to  hard  words,  the  Cooper 
having  heard  that  his  father  had  been  beg- 
ging of  a  stranger  from  the  other  side  of  the 
mountains,  and  complaining  of  having  been 
ruined  by  a  rich  man. 

The  Gauger  and  the  Burgomaster  were 
amused  with  Claus's  complaints  and  fierce 
invectives,  his  jokes  and  wise  sayings,  and 
supplied  him  with  liquor. 

When  Roland  and  the  Major  arrived  at 
this  man^  house,  it  was  evident,  even  at  that 
early  hour  of  the  morning,  that  he  had  been 
drinking.  Roland  was  much  shocked,  but 
the  Major  said,  — 

"  Oh,  you  should  not  think  anything  of 
that.  The  man  drinks  too  much,  but  only 
too  much  for  his  own  stomach.  Where  is 
the  harm  ?  If  a  man  is  made  happy  by  a 
glass  of  wine  too  much,  do  let  him  enjoy 
it.11 

The  Majors  words  and  Roland^  inward 
happiness  soon  effaced  all  recollection  of 
this  first  meeting.  From  Claus's  they  went 
to  Sevenpiper1s,  where  was  rejoicing  be- 
yond measure. 

Roland  said,  again  and  again,  that  this  day 
was  the  happiest  he  had  ever  passed ;  and 
the  Major  impressed  upon  him  that  he  must 
not  throw  his  good  deeds  into  the  empty 
air,  but  accept  the  good  wishes  and  bless- 
ings of  those  he  had  relieved  from  suffering 
i  and  care. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


323 


44  Fräulein  Milch,"  he  added,  "has  a 
good  saying,  which  should  be  inscribed  in 
the  temple  j  The  happiest  hour  is  that  which 
follows  the  performance  of  a  good  deed. 
Write  that  in  your  heart,. my  boy.1' 

The  dogs  jumped  about  the  wagon,  and 
Roland  cried  out  to  them,  — 

"  Do  you  too  know  that  this  is  my  happi- 
est day  ?  You  poor  beasts,  I  can  give  you 
nothing  but  food  ;  you  want  neither  clothes 
nor  money." 

Out  of  one  house  Roland  came  flying, 
pale  as  death. 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  11  asked  the 
Major. 

"  Oh,  let  us  get  away  from  here,  away  !  " 
urged  the  youth  in  terror.  •*  I  tremble  all 
over,  now,  at  what  was  done  to  me.  If  I 
had  been  attacked  by  robbers,  I  could  not 
have  been  more  frightened." 

"But  what  was  it?  Tell  me  what  it 
was  !  " 

"  The  old  man,  whom  I  brought  the 
clothes  and  money  for,  wanted  to  kiss  my 
hand  ;  that  old  man  —  my  hand  !  I  thought 
I  should  die,  I  was  so  frightened.  And  are 
you  laughing  at  it  ?  " 

,"  I  am  not  laughing;  you  were  quite 
right." 

The  Major  looked  upon  this  sensitiveness 
as  one  of  the  results  of  the  nervous  fever, 
and  said  after  a  while,  — 

"  Your  father  has  planted  a  great  many 
trees,  and  when  one  thrives  he  calls  it  a 
grateful  tree.  Do  you  know  what  the  most 
grateful  tree  is  ?  The  tree  of  knowledge 
and  good  works." 

While  Roland's  heart  was  thus  swelling 
with  the  joy  of  health  and  well-doing,  Eric 
was  in  great  depression.  He  had  given  his 
mother  Professor  Einsiedels  letter,  and, 
sitting  beside  her,  told  her  how  this  had 
comforted  him  for  a  while,  but  that  now  he 
was  again  in  a  state  of  great  uncertainty, 
because  his  relation  to  Sonnenkamp  must 
henceforth  be  one  of  painful  dependence ; 
till  now  he  had  occupied  a  free  and  equal 
position  with  regard  to  him,  but  now  he  had 
received  favors,  received  a  gift  of  money,  and 
had  lost  his  independence. 

His  mother  listened  patiently  to  the  end, 
and  then  asked,  — 

"Do  you  hesitate  to  accept  this  gift  be- 
cause it  comes  from  Herr  Sonnenkamp  ? 
Why  not  as  readily  or  as  reluctantly  as  from 
any  one  else,  from  Clodwig,  for  instance  ?  " 

She  put  the  question  eagerly,  thinking  she 
perceived  that  Eric,  as  well  as  herself,  was 
aware  of  Sonnenkamp's  past  life ;  but  she 
was  soon  assured  that  he  had  no  suspicion 
of  it,  by  his  replying,  — 

"  Friendship  gives  differently,  and  makes 


lit  seem  hardly  a  gift;  from  a  friend  like 
Clodwig,  I  could  accept  anything." 

His  mother  told  him  he  should  consider 
that  the  money  came  from  Roland,  whose 
coming  of  age  was  only  anticipated.  'But 
that  idea  troubled  Eric  too :  it  made  him 
feel  that  he  was  sent  away,  paid  off;  the 
account  was  squared  between  them.  His 
mother  reminded  him,  for  his  consolation, 
that  no  outward  pay  could  compensate  for 
the  labor,  the  burning  cheek,  the  trem-/ 
bling  nerves,  the  planning  and  thinking  by 
day  and  by  night,  which  the  education  of  a 
human  being  requires.  Finally,  Eric  con- 
fessed that  it  mortified  him  to  have  to  ac- 
cept presents  before  Pranken,  and  Manna 
too,  the  daughter  of  the  house. 

"  Pranken  and  Manna  are  one,"  answered 
his  mother,  "  she  is  his  betrothed.  But  take 
comfort ;  look  back  over  the  past  year,  and 
you  will  see  that  you  have  developed  in 
your  pupil  a  character  which  nothing  can 
undermine." 

This  thought  finally  enabled  Eric  to  rise 
above  all  his  depression,  and  when  he  left 
his  mother's  house  he  had  spirit  enough  to 
exclaim  : — 

"Look  at  Eric,  old  Father  Rhine;  he  is 
become  an  independent  man,  and  can  live 
upon  his  interest  till  he  is  seventy-seven 
years  old  !  " 

He  met  Roland  and  the  Major  returning 
from  their  round  of  visits.  It  was  not  for 
nothing  that  the  Major  carried  always  two 
watches  about  with  him,  one  of  which  he 
called  his  galloper  because  it  was  always  fast ; 
the  only  difficulty  was,  he  could  never  tell 
whether  he  had  put  the  galloper  in  his  right 
or  left  pocket ;  however,  he  was  on  hand 
again  punctually  at  dinner-time. 

Roland  sat  at  the  richly  furnished  table, 
but  tasted  scarcely  a  morsel. 

"  I  am  so  full,"  he  said  to  Eric,  "  so  full 
of  the  great  happiness  I  have  given  to-day. 
And  you  —  are  you  not  happy  too  ?  " 

Eric  could  truly  say  he  was. 

There  was  some  discussion  as  to  who 
should  propose  the  customary  toast  for  Ro- 
land ;  whether  it  was  for  Eric  or  Pranken 
to  do. 

Both  at  length  urged  the  duty  upon  the 
Major,  who  rose  and  said,  — 

"  Gentlemen  and  ladies  !  " 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Pranken. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  Major,  "  Inter- 
rupt me  as  often  as  you  will ;  I  have  learned 
to  take  flying  leaps,  and  every  obstacle  gives 
me  a  chance  for  a  higher  bound.  Once  more, 
ladies  and  gentlemen  !  the  human  race  is 
divided  into  male  and  female." 

General  laughter,  which  delighted  the 
Major. 


324 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Here  you  behold  a  pair  in  the  garden 
of  Eden  — " 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  this  to  complete 
your  picture  ?  "  said  Pranken,  handing  the 
IVIajor  an  apple. 

Roland  was  indignant  with  Pranken  for 
interfering  so  often,  and  begged  the  Major 
not  to  let  himself  be  confused  by  it. 

**  Be  easy,  my  boy,"  said  the  Major  in  a 
low  voice  ;  "  I  can  stand  fire." 

Then  he  continued  aloud  : — 

"  So  we  have  here  two  children,  the 
daughter  of  the  house  and  the  son  of  the 
house ;  and  the  children  have  us.  They 
have  their  parents ;  they  have  a  grand- 
mother and  an  aunt  by  election,  and  here,"  — 
giving  himself  a  ringing  blow  on  his  chest , — 
"  here  they  have  an  uncle.  We  love  them 
as  if  they  were  our  own  blood,  and  they 
love  us,  do  they  not,  children  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  cried  Roland,  and  Manna  nod- 
ded. 

"  So  then,  if  I  had  a  son  —  no,  I  don't 
mean  that  —  if  I  had  a  teacher  for  this  son 
of  mine  —  no,  I  did  not  mean  that  either  — 
So,  then,  our  wild  rover  there  —  see,  he  has 
already  a  growth  upon  his  face  —  may  the 
Architect  of  the  universe  bless  him,  and  let 
him  grow  to  be  a  man  who  shall  understand 
what  is  true  happiness  for  himself,  for 
others,  for  his  brethren  of  all  faiths,  for  all 
the  descendants  of  man  upon  the  earth." 

Amen,  he  was  about  to  say,  but  correct- 
ed himself,  and  cried:  —  "  His  health,  again 
and  again,  his  health. 

The  Major  sat  down,  and  unbuttoned 
several  buttons  behind  his  napkin. 

Sonnenkamp  spoke  next,  and  in  happily 
chosen  language  proposed  a  toast  to  Eric, 
his  mother,  and  his  aunt. 

"You  must  speak  too;  you  must  speak 
too,"  the  Major  kept  urging  upon  Eric. 

Eric  rose,  and  with  a  light  and  cheerful 
tone  began : — 

"  Two  things  may  be  particularly  noticed, 
which  the  Old  World  has  given  to  the  New 
World  of  America  —  the  horse  and  wine. 
The  horse  is  not  a  native  of  America,  neither 
is  wine.  Germans  first  planted  vineyards 
in  the  New  World.  Two  natural  objects, 
therefore,  which  enlarge  the  scope  of  human 
strength  and  intellect,  we  have  presented 
to  the  New  World.  I  leave  out  of  consider- 
ation the  kingdom  of  ideas.  My  toast  is 
this  :  May  our  Roland,  who  comes  to  us 
from  the  New  World,  be  borne  onward  and 
animated  by  the  rich  powers  beyond  himself, 
to  great  and  noble  ends  !  "  He  raised  his 
glass  with  enthusiasm,  the  sunlight  sparkled 
in  the  wine,  and  pointing  to  it  he  continued  : 

"  The  sun  of  to-day  greets  the  sun  of  a 
past  age.    What  we  drink  is  the  offspring 


of  departed  days,  and  what  we  receive  into 
our  soul  has  ripened  in  the  sun  of  eternity. 
Each  one  of  us  should  be  a  fruit  that  shall 
ripen  and  live  on  in  the  sun  of  eternity,  as 
God  lives  in  humanity,  and  in  the  stars,  and 
in  the  trees  and  plants.  Holy  is  the  world, 
and  holy  should  we  make  ourselves.  We 
are  not  our  own,  and  what  we  have  is  not 
our  own.  What  we  are  and  what  we  have 
belong  to  the  Eternal.  My  Roland,  the 
bright,  smiling,  sunny  light  of  this  day 
which  is  gilding  the  earth  will  be  turned  to 
the  fire  of  the  wine,  Avhich  after  resting  and 
ripening  in  well  sealed  casks,  in  the  cool 
earth,  shall  presently  be  carried  to  strangers 
through  all  the  lands,  to  animate  and  pen- 
etrate them  with  its  sunlight.  So  shall  the 
sun  of  to-day  become  fire  in  our  souls, 
which  shall  burn  brightly  through  the  cold 
and  desolate  days  that  may  be  in  store. 
May  that  ripen  in  you,  my  Roland,  which 
shall  quicken  your  soul,  and  rejoice  man- 
kind, and  convert  all  life  into  the  free  and 
beautiful  temple  of  God." 

Eric's  eye  encountered  a  glance  from 
Manna's,  as  he  sat  down.  She  beheld  him 
as  it  were  for  the  first  time.  His  face  wore 
an  expression  of  ideality,  of  spirituality, 
which  seemed  to  subdue  all  passion,  and  a 
look  of  such  manly  decision  as  made  her 
feel,  If,  in  danger,  I  had  this  man  by  my 
side,  I  should  have  an  all-sufficient  help. 
But  she  needed  no  help. 

Sonnenkamp  and  Pranken  shrugged  their 
shoulders  at  the  conclusion  of  Eric's  speech, 
and  had  to  repress  a  laugh  which  was  pro- 
voked by  Sonnenkamp's  whispering  to  his 
neighbor,  — 

"  The  man  almost  seems  to  believe  what 
he  says." 

A  diversion  was  here  made  by  the  arrival 
of  the  Doctor,  and  of  the  Justice's  Lina, 
who  was  eager  to  greet  her  friend  upon  her 
"  return  to  life,"  as  she  called  it.  All  arose 
from  the  table  in  excellent  spirits. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
ABOUT  ANOTHER  AND  FOR  ANOTHER. 

The  Doctor  kept  close  watch  upon  the 
behavior  of  the  girls,  «and  listened  to  their 
conversation.  Manna  expressed  her  thanks 
for  her  friend's  kind  attention,  but  preserved 
all  the  while  in  her  manner  a  certain  reserve, 
an  indescribable  something,  the  result  ofthat 
life  in  the  convent  which  to  Lina  had  been 
productive  of  nothing  but  an  acquaintance 
with  foreign  languages. 

The  Doctor  afterwards  expressed  to  the 
Professorin,  as  they  were  walking  back  and 
forth  together  in  the  garden,  great  curiosity 
to  know  whether'  worldly  wisdom  would 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


325 


succeed  in  triumphing  over  the  influence  of 
the  Church,  and  also  his  regret  that  she 
herself  was  not  a  Catholic,  as  in  that  case 
her  task  would  be  much  easier.  But  the 
lady  remained  firm  in  her  decision  to  exert 
no  influence  whatever  on  Manna ;  she  was 
not  only  not  required  by  her  duty  to  do  so, 
but  would  actually  have  no  right,  Manna 
being  betrothed  to  Pranken. 

"Who  knows?"  replied  the  Doctor, 
"  who  knows  ?  The  Huguenots  not  only 
went  into  exile  themselves ;  their  example 
made  others  emigrate :  and  often  our  influ- 
ence is  greatest  when  it  is  quite  uninten- 
tional." 

Sonnenkamp  wished  Lina  to  spend  some 
of  these  Spring  weeks  with  his  daughter, 
and  Manna  had  no  alternative  but  to 
second  the  invitation.  Lina  accepted,  on 
condition  of  obtaining  her  parents'  consent, 
and  returned  with  the  Doctor  to  be  sent  for 
the  next  day. 

Pranken,  who  remained  through  the  even- 
ing, was  rejoiced  at  Manna's  confiding  to 
him  that  she  had  already  painfully  experi- 
enced the  world's  temptation  to  want  of 
truthfulness ;  for  that,  to  speak  with  per- 
fect candor,  she'  did  not  desire  a  visit  from 
Lina,  and  yet  she  had  been  obliged  to  re- 
quest it ;  that  she  thought  was  the  great  sin 
of  the  world,  that  it  makes  us  false  to  our- 
selves. 

Pranken  hoped  that  Lina's  visit  would 
have  an  enlivening  effect  upon  Manna  ;  to 
begin  with,  however,  he  wanted  to  find  out 
how  she  liked  the  Professorin.  In  ap- 
proaching the  subject  he  so  carefully  worded 
his  remarks  that  if  Manna  should  speak 
with  enthusiasm  he  could  fall  in  with  it,  and 
the  same  if  she  expressed  dislike. 

Manna  repressed  the  confession  that  rose 
to  her  lips,  that  she  felt  herself  already  be- 
wildered by  the  confusion  that  prevailed  in 
the  house,  and  longed  for  the  well-ordered 
quiet  of  the  convent,  and  merely  complained 
of  feeling  so  unlike  herself  in  the  world. 
But,  when  Pranken  thanked  her  for  this 
confidence,  she  recoiled  and  said,  scarce 
above  her  breath,  that  the  world  made  peo- 
ple talkative  even  when  they  wished  to  be 
reserved. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  of  re- 
serve," resumed  Pranken,  after  a  pause; 
"for  our  Archbishop  enjoined  it  upon  me 
lately  in  those  very  words.  *  Be  reserved,1 
he  said ;  '  persons  who  speak  much  and 
readily  are  at  bottom  nothing  but  dilet- 
tanti.'" 

He  thought  Manna  would  perceive  at 
once  that  he  was  referring  to  Eric,  but,  as 
she  gave  no  sign  of  applying  the  charge  of 


dilettantism  to  him,  Pranken  spoke  more 
openly  and  said :  — 

"  Do  you  not  perceive  something  of  the 
dilettante  in  the  very  talkative  Herr  Eric  ?  " 

Manna  answered  shortly  :  — 

"  The  man  talks  much,  but  " 

Here  she  made  a  long  pause,  and  Pran- 
ken was  in  great  suspense,  wondering  how 
she  would  finish  her  sentence. 

"He  talks  much,"  she  said,  "but  he 
thinks  much  too." 

Pranken  cast  about  for  some  turn  he 
could  give  the  conversation,  which,  with  a 
skilful  aim,  could  not  fail  to  hit  the  mark. 
He  might  have  spared  himself  his  great 
pains,  for  a  man  whose  activities  extended 
over  so  much  ground  as  Eric's  offered  many 
points  of  attack. 

Pranken  began  by  declaring  Eric  to  be  a 
kind  of  Don  Quixote,  a  man  who  was  always 
adventuring  after  great  ideas,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  exaggerated  sentiment  of  his  toast. 
Disguising  the  cutting  nature  of  his  remarks 
under  cover  of  gentle  words,  he  attempted 
to  turn  Eric  into  ridicule.  He  thought  it 
presumption  in  him,  in  the  first  place,  to  lay 
claim  to  any  inward  consecration  as  a  cloak 
for  his  profanities,  and  finally  went  so  far 
as  to  accuse  him  of  passing  off  counterfeit 
coin,  in  the  hope  of  deceiving  a  childlike, 
confiding  mind.  He  looked  keenly  at.  Man- 
na as  he  spoke,  but  she  kept  silence. 

"Be  on  your  guard,"  he  added,  "he 
plays  the  model  man  everywhere." 

The  expression  seemed  to  please  Pranken 
so  well,  that  he  ventured  to  repeat  it. 

"  This  playing  tfee  model  man  is  very 
cunning,  but  we  can  see  through  it.  You 
have  no  idfea  how  much  trouble  this  pattern 
of  pedagogues,  this  HerrDournay,  has  given 
us.  You  must  be  on  your  guard  ;  his  every 
word  is  stamped  with  the  conviction,  that  he 
unites  in  his  own  person  all  possible  exam- 
ples of  virtue." 

Encouraged  by  a  smile  on  Manna's  face, 
which  she  tried  in  vain  to  suppress,  Pranken 
continued  :  — 

"  After  all,  his  eloquence  is  only  that  of 
the  hairdresser,  who  talks  of  all  kinds  of 
things  while  he  is  curling  your  hair,  only 
without  settirig  up  for  so  much  scientific  and 
religious  aplomb.  Observe  how  often  he 
uses  the  word  humanity  ;  I  counted  it  four- 
teen times,  once,  in  a  single  hour.  He 
affects  great  modesty,  but  his  conceit  ac- 
tually exceeds  all  bounds." 

Pranken  laughed,  knowing  how  easy  it  is 
to  throw  ridicule  upon  a  man  in  the  full  tide 
of  enthusiastic  action  ;  and  with  pleasure  he 
perceived  that  his  words  were  not  without 
influence  on  Manna.    If  you  can  once  set  a 


326 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


man  in  a  ridiculous  light,  there  is  no  salva- 
tion for  him.  This,  Pranken  knew  and 
hoped  to  accomplish  in  the  present  case ; 
he,  however,  went  on  to  say  :  — 

"Our  Roland  has  learned  a  great  deal 
under  this  honorable  gentleman,  but  he  has 
had  enough  of  him  now ;  it  is  time  he  en- 
tered upon  a  wider  sphere.'1 

Manna  preserved  her  thoughtful  silence, 
and  soon  after  walked  away,  occasionally, 
as  she  went  towards  the  villa,  nodding  to 
heirself  as  if  assenting  to  what  she  had 
heard.  Pranken  looked  after  her  in  per- 
plexity. 

On  the  steps  she  met  Eric,  and  both  stop- 
ped. Eric  felt  obliged  to  say  something, 
and  therefore  began,  — 

"  I  can  imagine  its  being  hard  for  you  to 
have  your  first  day  at  home  a  fete  day ;  it 
will,  perhaps,  make  the  days  that  follow 
seem  dull.11 

"  How  should  you  know  what  is  passing 
in  my  thoughts  ?  11  replied  Manna,  as  she 
went  on  up  the  steps. 

She  was  indignant  with  the  man  for  for- 
getting his  position  in  the  house,  and  taking 
upon  himself  to  tell  what  was  passing  in  her 
mind.  What  right  had  he  to  put  into  words 
what  she  did  not  choose  to  express  ?  As 
she  went  up  the  steps,  she  pressed  together 
in  anger  the  lips  which  had  spoken  such 
cruel  words  ;  she  was  angry  with  herself 
too.  But  the  words  had  been  said,  and 
could  not  be  unsaid. 

She  spent  the  whole  evening  in  her  room. 
At  a  late  hour  Roland  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  insisted  on  being  admitted. 

"Ah,  sister,11  he  said,  as  he  sat  down 
beside  her,  "  of  all  I  have  been  through 
to-day,  one  thing  haunts  me.  Everybody 
to  whom  I  gave  a  present  said  he  would 
pray  for  me.  How  is  that  possible,  and 
what  good  would  it  do  ?  What  good  would 
it  do  to  have  another  person  pray  for  me, 
and  say  of  me  and  wish  for  me  before  God 
all  sorts  of  good  things  ?  Of  what  use 
would  it  be,  if  I  were  not  in  my  own  soul 
good  and  noble?  No  man  can  pray  for 
another.11 

"Roland,  what  are  you  saying?  What 
are  you  thinking  of?  11  cried  Manna,  seiz- 
ing him  by  both  arms  and  shaking  him; 
then,  leaving  the  boy  standing  in  amaze- 
ment, she  hurried  into  her  chamber  and 
threw  herself  upon  her  knees. 

On  this  first  day  at  home  the  ruin  of  her 
house  was  revealed  to  her.  She  prayed 
for  Roland,  that  his  mind  might  be  enlight- 
ened and  delivered  from  bondage,  and  even 
while  she  prayed,  a  feeling  of  strangeness 
stole  over  her.  She  wrung  her  hands,  she 
groaned,  she  wept.    Is  it  true  that  no  one 


can  stand  in  the  place  of  another,  can  sac- 
rifice himself  for  another?  No,  it  is  not, 
—  it  cannot  be.  She  felt  herself  burdened, 
as  by  an  actual  weight  from  heaven,  at  the 
stirring  of  this  great  question,  this  great 
anxiety  within  her.  Can  a  human  being, 
then,  do  more  harm  than  good  to  another  ? 
Is  it  so  ?  Must  it  be  so  ?  There  was  a 
violent  struggle  in  her  soul ;  at  last  she 
smiled  ;  a  great  conflict  is  appointed  for  me, 
she  thought,  and  it  is  already  beginning. 
She  was  to  save  the  soul  of  her  brother, 
and  this,  she  told  herself,  could  not  be  done 
by  violence,  but  only  by  gentleness  and 
humility. 

Sbe  rose,  and  returning  to  the  room 
where  she  had  left  Roland,  held  out  her 
hand  to  him. 

"I  see,11  she  said,  "you  are  my  grown- 
up brother ;  we  must  help  one  another  to 
become  better.  We  have  much  to  give 
and  to  take  from  each  other ;  that  will  come 
of  itself." 

She  sat  down  quietly  beside  him,  and 
held  his  hand  tightly  clasped  in  hers. 

"  How  pleasant  it  must  seem  to  you.  to 
be  at  home  again  !  11  exclaimed  Roland. 
"  The  convent  is  no  home  for  any  one.11 

"  For  that  very  reason  it  is  the  best,1' 
returned  Manna.  "  Every  day,  every  hour 
reminds  us  that  we  have  no  home  in  this 
world ;  that  our  whole  life  is  but  a  pilgrim- 
age. If  this  world  were  our  home,  we 
should  both  have,  you  and  I  —  no.  You 
too  tempt  me  to  say  what  I  should  not." 

"Eric  is  right,11  said  Roland.  "  He 
says  you  are  truly  pious ;  what  millions 
speak  only  with  their  lips,  you  utter  from 
your  heart.11 

"  Did  Eric  say  that  ?  11 

"  Yes,  and  much  more.11 

"But,  Roland,11  interrupted  Manna,  "you 
should  never  tell  what  one  person  says  of 
another.11 

"  Not  if  it  is  good  ?  11 

"Not  even  then.  We  cannot  tell  on 
that  very  account  —  no,11  she  interrupted 
herself;  "  are  you  not  very  happy  in  hav- 
ing so  true  a  friend  in  Eric  ?  11 

"  Indeed  I  am  ;  and  do  you  not  like  him 
better  than  Pranken  ? 11 

A  smde  rose  to  Manna's  lips,  but  she 
repressed  it  and  said,  — 

"Your  teacher  should  also  teach  you 
never  to  make  comparisons.  But  now, 
dear  brother,  remember  that  I  have  come 
from  a  convent,  and  need  to  be  much  alone. 
Good-night !  11  she  added,  kissing  him. 

"  Remember,11  he  called  back  to  her  as 
he  departed,  "that  you  must  take  your 
two  dogs  with  you  when  you  go  to  walk.11 

Manna  was  even  yet  not  allowed  to  be 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


327 


alone.  In  the  convent  she  had  had  no  one 
to  wait  upon  her,  but  here  her  father  in- 
sisted on  her  having  a  maid  to  undress 
her. 

The  woman  .praised  her  beautiful  black 
hair  as  she  let  it  down. 

"Ah,  my  Fräulein,  you  have  what  is  so 
rare  in  tjjese  days,  good,  healthy  hair. 
Would  you  believe,  Fräulein,  that  almost 
all  the  hair  we  see  on  ladies'  heads  is  false 
or  padded  ?  they  wear  a  hat  hidden  under 
their  hair." 

And  yet,  thought  Manna,  this  hair  will 


fall.  A  sudden  terror  shot  through  her, 
as  the  maid  passed  her  fingers  through  the 
loosened  hair ;  she  fancied  that  she  already 
heard  the  clipping  of  the  scissors. 

At  last  Manna  was  alone.  After  de- 
voting herself  for  some  time  to  meditation 
and  prayer,  she  began  a  letter  to  the 
Superior. 

4 '  We  have  celebrated  to-day  my  birthday 
and  my  return  to  my  parents1  house  ;  but  I 
long  for  my  own  birthday,  which  shall  be 
my  entrance  into  the  home  of  my  Eternal 
Father  —  " 


THE  COTOTEY-HOUSE  ON  TSE  KHINE. 
PART  in. 


328 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


BOOK  X.  —  CHAPTER  I. 
THE  GIANTS  TOY. 

The  legend  tells  of  that  child-giant  who 
took  the  ploughman,  with  plough  and  horse, 
to  be  a  plaything,  gathered  them  up  in  his 
apron,  and  carried  them  off. 

This  was  the  case  with  Manna.  Her 
thoughts,  by  day  and  by  night,  had  been  so 
far  removed  from  the  world,  so  elevated, 
and  so  victorious  over  it,  that  all  its  doings 
seemed  to  her  like  children's  plays.  What 
is  it  all  for  ?  To  pass  away  the  time  ?  Chil- 
dren succeed  in  that ;  they  unconsciously 
persuade  themselves  that  their  dolls  are 
alive;  while  children  of  a  larger  growth 
play  with  their  dolls,  but  look  upon  them 
as  shams. 

Life  is  all  idle  play  to  them,  and  death 
alone  is  something  serious. 

It  was  with  some  such  thought,  that 
Manna  stood  at  the  window,  early  on  the 
morning  after  Roland's  birthday ;  she  saw 
nothing  of  the  world,  and  yet  she  saw  the 
whole  world,  far,  far  away. 

So  deeply  impressed  upon  her  memory, 
were  the  tones  of  the  convent-bell  which 
had  awakeifed  the  pupils  at  the  first  blush 
of  dawn,  that  they  had  aroused  her,  this 
morning  also,  from  her  slumbers.  She 
seemed  to  hear  it  ringing  as  she  slept.  It 
was  some  time  before  she  realized  where 
she  was. 

Thou  art  at  home  —  where  is  thy  home  ? 
who  has  built  a  house  out  of  these  stones, 
has  made  this  bed  ? 

In  the  villa  all  were  still  sleeping.  Manna 
alone  was  awake,  and  with  her  the  innu- 
merable choirs  of  birds  in  the  garden ;  and 
as  the  birds  outside  mingled  together  their 
twittering  songs,  so  a  thousand  thoughts 
flitted  through  her  mind. 

She  went  into  the  park,  and  stood  for  a 
long  time*  before  the  new  gate  that  opened 
upon  the  path  to  the  little  green  cottage. 
A  voice  within  her  seemed  to  say :  Through 
this  gate,  and  in  this  pathway,  thou  wilt 
have  much  to  experience,  much  to  struggle 
with,  and  much  to  overcome. 

She  wanted  to  find  out,  to  image  to  her- 
self what  would  enter  there,  but  she  suc- 
ceeded no  better  than  did  Eric,  as  he  gazed 
at  the  convent  steps,  in  calling  up  before 
his  mind's  eye  the  various  destinies  of  those 
who  had  passed  in  and  out  over  that  thresh- 
old. 

Who  would  have  been  able  to  tell  her 
that  Eric  had  once  gazed  with  the  same 
feelings ! 

Manna  had  a  feeling  of  unrest,  as  if  she 
knew  that  an  eye  was  watching  her.  Eric 
was  now  in  fact  standing  at  the  window, 


and  his  glance  rested  upon  her;  but  he 
took  care  to  keep  out  of  her  sight.  His 
soul  too  was  moved,  but  by  wholly  differ- 
ent thoughts.  While  he  was  asleep,  there 
was  with  him  the  abiding  feeling  that  now 
he  was  possessed  of  ample  means  and  was 
his  own  master;  and  this  consciousness  fin- 
ally waked  him.  In  the  earliest  dawn,  he 
had  again  counted  over  the  money  which 
Sonnen kamp  had  handed  him  on  the  pre- 
vious day.  It  was  enough  to  support  him- 
self and  his  mother.  He  was  so  unaccus- 
tomed to  money,  that  he  felt  impelled  to 
count  it  several  times  over,  and  finally  even 
to  write  down  the  amount.  Then  he  smiled, 
saying  to  himself:  — 

It's  well,  and  I  am  glad  to  be  put  to  the 
test  whether  I  can  perform  my  duty  in  life 
with  the  same  earnestness,  poor  or  rich.  • 

He  opened  the  window  and  perceived 
Manna.  He  drew  back  softly,  and  won- 
dered what  were  the  feelings  and  thoughts 
of  the  child,  who  had  come  from  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  cloister  into  the  luxurious  pa- 
rental home. 

Sounds  were  now  heard  from  the  neigh- 
boring village,  from  all  quarters,  from  both 
shores  of  the  river,  up  and  down  the 
stream. 

Manna  left  the  park  and  turned  back  to 
the  house  in  order  to  get  her  prayer-book. 
Fraulein  Perini  was  waiting  for  her  in  the 
hall. 

Manna  heard  Fräulein  Perini  give  direc- 
tions to  the  servants  to  make  ready  a  room 
for  the  Justice's  daughter,  and  she  had  it 
upon  her  lips  to  reproach  herself  to  her 
former  governess,  for  having  been  insin- 
cere in  permitting  Lina  to  be  invited.  She 
dreaded  her  visit ;  the  superficial  and  child- 
ish character,  as  she  had  seen  it  the  day 
before,  seemed  something  new  and  strange. 
She  had  resolved  to  gain  the  victory  by 
herself  alone,  and  had  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion to  ask  Lina  plainly  not  to  make  the 
visit  at  this  time ;  she  owed  it  to  herself  to 
remain  alone,  and  to  admit  no  distracting 
influence. 

As  she  was  going  down  the  steps  with 
Fraulein  Perini,  a  letter  was  handed  her, 
brought  by  a  messenger,  who  was  waiting 
for  an  answer.  Lina  wrote  how  much  she 
regretted  that  she  was  not  permitted  to  ac- 
cept the  hospitable  invitation  to  Villa  Eden. 
She  besought  Manna  to  send  back  a  single 
word,  containing  the  assurance  that  she  was 
not  angry  with  her. 

Manna  was  glad  that  she  could  now  re- 
ply without  wounding  the  feelings  of  Lina, 
whose  parents,  she  wrote,  were  in  the  right. 

On  reading  over  again  her  friend's  letter, 
it  seemed  strange  to  Manna  that  no  sort  of 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


329 


excuse  was  assigned.  Do  all  the  neigh- 
bors still  hold  aloof  from  her  parents' 
house  ? 

Perhaps  so !  Another  parental  home, 
yonder,  extends  its  invitation. 

The  church  bell  again  rang,  and  Manna 
went  with  Fräulein  Perini  to  church. 

Fraulein  Perini  was  elated  and  happy. 
Others  might  attempt  to  win  Manna  with 
every  variety  of  influence ;  she  alone  could 
go  with  her  to  church. 

"  Do  you  still  prefer  to  be  silent  in  the 
morning?"  asked  Fräulein  Perini  quietly, 
extending  her  hand. 

Manna  nodded  without  speaking.  Not 
another  word  was  interchanged. 

When  the  mass  was  over,  and  they  had 
left  the  church  together,  Fräulein  Perini 
said  that  she  would  like  to  introduce  Manna 
to  the  Priest,  who  had  been  stationed  here 
during  her  absence. 

Manna  begged  to  go  alone.  She  lin- 
gered a  while,  without  moving  from  the 
spot,  and  then  went  to  the  Priest's  house. 
She  seemed  to  be  expected,  for  the  Priest 
came  out  on  the  steps  to  meet  her,  and 
welcomed  her  with  a  benediction.  He  led 
her  by  the  hand  into  his  room,  hastily  re- 
moving his  breakfast  from  the  table,  on 
which  there  was  an  open  book. 

Manna  was  directed  to  take  a  seat  on 
the  sofa.    She  began  :  — 

"Fräulein  Perini  wished  to  introduce  me 
to  you,  Reverend  Sir.  That  might  be  neces- 
sary with  a  man ;  a  stranger,  but  you  are 
not  a  man,  a  stranger,  you  are  a  servant  of 
our  holy  Church.11 

The  Priest  partially  closed  his  eyes, 
brought  together  the  ends  of  the  fingers  of 
his  handsome  hands,  then  drew  them  apart, 
and  said  in  a  quiet  and  clear  tone  : — 

"  The  right  way  !  You  are  in  the  right 
way,  my  child,  keep  in  it.  So  it  is !  World- 
lings come  into  a  place,  they  are  strangers, 
strangers  as  if  they  were  among  savages,  and 
they  are  ignorant  whether  there  is  a  single 
person  who  cherishes  the  same  thoughts 
with  them ;  and  there  are  no  two  people 
who  have  the  same  thoughts,  even  when  the 
words  are  the  same,  and  they  have  no  bond 
of  unity ;  they  are  like  the  mote  dancing 
here  in  the  sunbeam.  But  you,  if  you 
should  enter  the  remotest  village,  you  would 
be  at  home.  There  is  a  house,  and  within 
it  is  a  man  who  welcomes  you  as  a  spiritual  i 
brother,  as  a  father.  He  is  not  there  of 
himself,  but  has  been  placed  there  by  an- 
other ;  and  you  have  not  come  of  yourself,  \ 
but  have  been  led  by  another.  You  are  j 
doubly  welcome,  my  child,  for  perceiving 
and  realizing  this  immediately.  You  knock 
at  my  door,  and  it  is  open  to  you ;  and  it  j 


will  be  open  whenever  you  may  come.  You 
knock  at  my  heart,  and  that  is  open  to  you, 
be  sure  of  that.  I  have  no  house  of  my 
own ;  my  house  belongs  to  him  who  shall 
come  after  me,  and  not  to  him  either,  and 
my  heart  is  His  who  has  made  it  beat.11 

The  Priest  stopped  speaking,  and  fixed 
his  regard  upon  Manna,  who  had  closed  her 
eyes,  as  if  she  could  not  bear  the  sunlight, 
could  not  gaze  at  the  countenance  on  which 
the  Spirit  was  now  descending.  The  Priest 
could  see  how  deeply  she  was  moved ;  he 
placed  his  hand  in  a  friendly  way  upon  her 
head,  saying : — 

"  Look  up  at  me.    I  repeat  to  you,  that 
you  have  come  alone,  and  you  know  why 
you  have  come  alone ;  this  spares  us  the  ' 
necessity  of  coming  to  an  understanding, 
as  worldlings  term  it.    Coming  to  an  un-. 
demanding !  11 

The  Priest  laughed. 

"  Coming  to  an  understanding  !  and  they 
never  do  understand  each  other,  they,  the 
cultivated,  as  they  call  themselves,  or  the 
seltLcultivating,  as  they  ought  to  call  them- 
selves, for  they  believe  that  they  can  make 
themselves  into  anything  they  please. 
They  need  a  recommendation  from  some 
one,  who  must  say  who  they  are  and  what 
they  are ;  but  we,  we  need  no  introduction, 
no  recommendation.  You  are  recommend- 
ed and  introduced,  inasmuch  as  you  are  a 
child  of  our  holy  Church.  Hold  last  to  this, 
my  child,  and  speak  to  me  about  what- 
ever you  wish  to,  of  what  is  sacred  and 
what  is  profane,  of  what  is  great  and  what 
is  smaii ;  you  will  always  find  with  me  a 
home.  If  they  disgust  you  in  the  world, 
and  make  you  feel  homeless,  remember, 
here  is  rest  and  here  is  home.  Look  out 
of  doors  !  Your  father  has,  above  there,  a 
hot-house  for  foreign  plants  which  are  not 
at  home  in  our  climate ;  this  room  is  your 
hot-house  for  the  plant  of  holy  faith  which 
is  not  at  home  yonder.  My  child,  I  cast  no 
stone  at  any  one,  but  I  tell  you,  and  you 
know  already,  this  plant  is  not  of  this  world, 
and  is,  in  this  world,  in  a  foreign  climate ; 
it  has  been  brought  to  us  from  heaven.11 

The  Priest  stood  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  Manna  sat  on  the  sofa. 

For  some  time  not  a  word  was  spoken. 
Manna  was  deeply  affected  by  this  elevated 
strain  of  cordial  sympathy.  There  was  no 
need  of  any  hesitating  preliminaries  ;  she 
was  at  once  conducted  into  the  inmost 
sanctuary. 

She  asked  at  last  in  a  timid  way,  how  she 
ought  to  conduct  herself  towards  all  the  per- 
sons who  were  received  as  friends  in  the 
house  of  her  parents,  and  who  plumed  them- 
selves upon  their  culture. 


330 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  You  question  well,  you  question  definite- 
ly, and  that  is  the  mark  of  a  mature  mind," 
replied  the  Priest.  "  Know  then,  that  you 
are  to  smile  at  all  the  boastful  things  you 
will  be  obliged  to  listen  to  ;  they  pretend  to 
be  so  great,  and  they  are  so  very  little. 
These  'learned  ones  believe  that  the  world 
is  without  understanding,  and  that  it  is  ruled 
with  no  more  wisdom  than  their  understand- 
ing and  their  wisdom  attribute  to  it ;  they 
put  God  in  one  scale,  and  their  own  brain 
in  the  other.    Pah  !  " 

The  Priest  spoke  now  in  a  wholly  differ- 
ent tone  ;  he  was  violent  and  bitter,  so  that 
Manna  shrank  together  with  affright.  The 
Priest,  who  noticed  this,  composed  himself 
again,  saying : — 

"You  see  that  I  am  still  weak,  and  al- 
low myself  to  be  carried  away  by  excite- 
ment. My  child,  there  are  two  things 
which  conquer  the  world :  their  names  are 
God  and  the  Devil,  or,  when  transferred 
into  the  domain  of  our  own  interior  being, 
Piety  and  Frivolity.  Piety  sees  everything 
as  holy ;  appearances  are  only  a  veil,  while 
Frivolity  sees  nothing  as  holy.  Piety  is  the 
law  of  God ;  Frivolity  has  released  herself 
from  the  law  of  God,  and  sports  with  the 
world  of  appearances  according  to  her  own 
pleasure.  Between  piety  and  frivolity  there 
is  a  half-and-half  state,  and  that  is  the  worst 
of  all.  Frivolity  reaches  its  extreme  point 
and  is  capable  of  being  converted,  to  which 
we  have  some  glorious  witnesses  ;  but  the 
heroes  of  reason,  so-called,  or,  more  prop- 
erly speaking,  the  weaklings  of  reason, 
they  are  not  capable  of  being  converted, 
for  they  are  wholly  destitute  of  that  dispo- 
sition which  tends  to  humility." 

The  Priest  thought  that  Manna  would  un- 
derstand him  to  be  pointing  out  Eric  and 
Pranken ;  he  did  not  want  to  be  any  more 
personal  at  first,  but  the  ground  was  to  be 
broken.  Now  he  turned  round,  smiling, 
and  seating  himself  said  :  — 

"But,  my  child,  let  us  not  to-day  lose 
ourselves  in  such  general  considerations. 
What  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

Manna  complained  of  finding  it  so  hard 
to  complete  another   year   of  probation, 
moving  about  in  the  world  in  order  to  be 
released  from  it. 
The  Priest  reassured  her  with  the  words  : — 

"You  wish  to  take  the  veil;  you  have 
taken  it  already  ;  it  is  drawn  over  you,  and 
over  the  world,  though  invisible  to  every 
body  else.  Things  in  the  world  do  not  af- 
fect your  real  self  at  all ;  there  is  a  veil  be- 
tween you  and  the  world,  which  will  be 
wholly  dropped  only  when  death  gives  us 
deliverance.1' 

The  Priest  proceeded  to  exhort  her  to 


subject  herself  to  what  was  the  hardest  of 
all  experiences  to  youth  and  ardent  zeal,  — 
she  was  not  to  consider  it  as  her  vocation 
to  change  the  opinions  of  others,  but  she 
was  to  labor  for  her  own  perfection. 

He  went  more  cautiously  to  work  than 
Pranken  did ;  he  avoided  a  direct  attack 
upon  Eric,  as  this  might  awaken  an  interest 
in  Manna  towards  him.  He  even  praised 
him  ;  but  it  was  done  in  that  tone  of  condes- 
cension and  pity,  which  comes  so  natural  to 
him  who  upholds  a  dogmatic  faith.  He  in- 
culcated upon  her  the  fact,  that  she  would 
soon  understand  how  trifling  an  affair  it 
would  be  to  annihilate  this  liberal  culture, 
as  it  was  termed, —  that  it  was  in  its  very 
nature  exceedingly  fragile.  This  could  be 
plainly  seen  from  each  one  of  these  so-called 
liberally  cultivated  people  wanting  to  be 
something  entirely  different  from  his  neigh- 
bor. Each  one  of  Roland's  teachers,  for 
instance,  had  a  different  method,  a  different 
course  of  instruction,  different  principles, 
and  a  different  end  in  view. 

When  Manna  asked  why  the  Priest  had 
not  used  his  influence  to  keep  Eric  from 
being  received  into  the  family,  he  replied 
that  he  was  glad  to  find  her  so  zealous,  but 
a  person  was  obliged  to  let  some  things 
take  their  course  in  this  world  ;  and  besides, 
from  the  outset,  all  resistance  to  her  father 
would  have  been  to  no  purpose,  for  Roland 
had  insisted  upon  having  his  own  way. 
And  notwithstanding  Eric  was  a  complete 
heretic,  he  recognized  the  holy,  to  a  certain 
extent,  although  there  was  much  pride  min- 
gled with  this  recognition. 

He  feared  to  make  Eric  of  too  much  im- 
portance, and  so  he  added,  almost  with 
timidity,  that  these  apparently  mild  and  en- 
thusiastic idealists  were  just  the  most  dan- 
gerous. 

Then  he  went  on  to  advise  Manna  to  con- 
sider the  world  around  as  alien  to  herself. 

The  interview  seemed  now  to  have  be- 
come rather  painful.  The  Priest  suddenly 
and  abruptly  said  that  it  was  time  for  Manna 
to  return  home,  as  they  would  be  expecting 
her  there.  She  was  not  to  conceal  that  she 
had  been  with  him,  but  he  would  excuse 
her  now  in  advance,  if  she  should  often  suf- 
fer a  considerable  time  to  intervene  between 
her  calls  upon  him ;  he  should  remain  un- 
shaken in  the  conviction  that  her  inmost  soul 
continued  devoted  to  the  holy  faith. 

"  Now  go,  my  child,"  he  said  in  conclu- 
sion, "  and  be  assured  that  I  shall  pray  for 
you." 

Manna  had  risen  ;  she  looked  at  him  ear- 
nestly. The  inquiry  seemed  to  be  awakened 
in  her  own  soul :  Can,  then,  one  human 
being  pray  for  another  ? 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


331 


The  inquiry  which  Roland  had  proposed 
presented  itself  afresh,  and  grew  to  be  the 
riddle  of  her  life.  She  desired  to  sacrifice 
herself  for  another,  her  whole  existence 
should  be  only  a  prayer  for  another. 

How  is  this  possible  ? 

She  wanted  to  ask  if  it  were  true,  and  if 
true,  why  it  was,  that  one  human  being 
could  do  more  harm  than  good  to  another ; 
that  one  could  lay  a  burden  upon  another 
soul,  but  no  one  could  remove  that  burden. 
She  wanted  to  say  this  to  the  Priest,  and 
receive  some  help  from  him,  but  he  repeated, 
—  "  Now  go,  my  child  !  "  She  turned  away 
her  inquiring  eyes  and  went. 

On  her  way  home,  she  stood  near  a  field, 
watching  a  laborer  who  was  busy  ploughing, 
and  the  thought  occurred  to  her :  Yes,  one 
can  sacrifice  himself  for  another,  for  the 
souls  of  men  are  nothing  by  themselves  ;  all 
that  breathe  are  nothing  but  a  breath  of 
God;  all  movement  in  the  earth  and  in  the 
great  world  is  nothing  but  the  movement 
of  a  single  Being. 

Everything  seemed  to  swim  before  her 
eyes;  she  savv  the  peasant  ploughing,  she 
saw  the  vessels  floating  upon  the  Rhine,  and 
the  birds  flying  in  the  air.  All  is  one,  all 
is  little,  the  whole  is  only  a  giant's  toy. 

chapter  ii. 

one's  own  part  in  the  world. 

Manna  walked  dreamily  along,  but  be- 
came roused  to  full  consciousness  when  the 
dogs  Rose  and  Thistle  sprang  up  to  her, 
rejoiced  to  have  their  mistress  with  them 
again. 

'*  So  our  wild  doe  has  got  home  ?  11  cried 
a  voice  from  a  distance ;  it  was  that  of  the 
field-guard,  Claus,  who  had  the  dogs  with 
him.  "  I  mustn't  speak  to  you  now  as  I 
used  to,':  he  exclaimed.  "  Hi !  how  tall  you 
are  !  But  what  are  you  so  sad  for  ?  Cheer 
up  !  Just  see,  Fraulein,  all  round,  as  far 
down  as  the  rocks  there,  your  father  has 
bought  it  all." 

"  Can  one  buy  the  earth  ?  "  asked  Manna, 
as  if  waking  from  a  dream. 

Claus  replied :  — 

"  What  do  you  say?  I  don't  understand 
you." 

"  It  was  of  no  consequence,"  answered 
Manna.  Can  one  buy  then  the  immovable 
ground  ?  From  whom  ?  Who  has  a  right 
to  it  ?  This  question  presented  itself  to 
Manna  as  an  enigma ;  she  gazed  intently 
into  the  empty  air,  and  hardly  heard  the 
huntsman's  narrative  of  his  recent  experi- 
ences. When  he  said  :  —  "  Yes,  Fraulein, 
I've  been  a  simpleton,  and  am  very  sorry 
for  it,"  she  asked  him  :  — 


"  What  have  you  been  doing? " 

"  Zounds  !  I  repeat  that  I've  been  doing 
nothing  ;  that  all  my  life  I've  been  a  simple, 
honest  fellow,  and  not  a  bad  one  at  all. 
The  bigger  rascal  one  is,  so  much  the  better 
off.  What  now  does  the  world  give  me  ? 
People  can  make  you  bad,  but  good — who 
can  make  you  that?  The  only  comfort 
grows  there  on  the  hillside  —  there's  where 
the  drop  of  comfort  comes  from,  but  I  can 
get  only  a  beggar's  sup.  I  should  just  like 
to  know  whether  Herr  Dournay  is  a  true 
man  ;  I  think  there's  no  true  men  going  now 
except  Herr  Weidmann.  You've  been  in 
the  convent,  and  is't  a  fact  that  you  want 
to  be  a  nun  ?  " 

Manna  had  not  time  to  answer,  for  Claus 
continued,  laughing :  — 

"  I've  many  a  time  thought  that  I'd  like 
to  go  into  a  convent,  too.  Everybody 
ought  to  be  able  to  go  into  a  convent  when 
he's  sixty  years  old ;  nothing  to  do  there 
but  drink  and  drink,  until  death  claps  his 
warrant  upon  you.  But  I  don't  want  to 
make  death's  acquaintance  yet  awhile  ;  I  say, 
like  the  constable  of  Mattenheim :  Lord, 
take  your  own  time,  I'm  in  no  hurry." 

Although  so  early  in  the  morning,  the 
field-guard  was  a  little  excited  and  talked 
a  little  thick.  Manna  was  afraid  of  him, 
but  now  gave  him  her  hand  and  went  off 
with  the  dogs. 

"  I'd  like  to  ask  one  favor  of  you  !  "  he 
called  after  her. 

She  stopped. 

He  came  up,  and  stated  to  her  that  the 
gauger  had  given  him  a  ticket  in  the  Ca- 
thedral lottery,  and  he  had  sold  it  to  Seven- 
piper,  and  if  the  number  drew  the  first 
prize,  he  should  tear  all  the  hair  out  of  his 
head,  and  never  have  a  minute's  comfort 
with  his  children  the  rest  of  his  life.  If 
Manna  would  give  him  a  dollar,  he  could 
buy  the  ticket  back  again. 

As  Manna  hesitated,  he  added  :  — 
"It's  a  pious   matter,  and  just  suits 
you." 

Manna  did .  not  comprehend  what  he 
meant,  and  she* learned  now,  for  the  first 
time,  that  a  lottery  had  been  set  up  to  raise 
money  for  the  completion  of  the  Cathedral. 
She  gave  the  dollar,  and  walked  quickly 
away. 

She  went  along  the  Rhine.  The  smooth 
surface  was  broken  only  by  the  circling 
ripples,  and  the  fishes  could  be  seen  sporting 
beneath ;  the  willows  on  the  banks  quivered 
in  the  morning  breeze,  and  were  mirrored 
in  the  stream.  Manna  entered  the  park. 
The  fragrance  of  flowers  was  wafted  on  the 
fresh,  sparkling  air,  and  a  divine  peace  was 
diffused  everywhere  around.    The  flowers 


332 


TIIE  COUNTRY-nOUSE  ON  THE  RIIINE. 


glistened  with  a  lustrous  brightness,  and 
each  color  was  heightened  and  glorified  by 
the  other ;  the  white  added  to  the  splendor 
of  the  blue,  and  the  red  was  softened  in  its 
burning  glow,  making  a  holy,  peaceful  har- 
mony. 

Each  flower,  each  tree  in  blossom,  helps 
to  make  fragrant  the  air  which  the  daughter 
of  the  house  inhales  ;  and  around  her  is  a 
human  atmosphere  whose  elements  are  hard 
to  analyze.  The  father,  harsh,  and  vio- 
lent, wanted  to  force  his  will  upon  his  child 
cither  by  kindness  or  severity  ;  the  mother, 
wrapped  up  in  her  own  feelings,  wholly 
taken  up  with  herself  and  her  ardent  long- 
ings for  worldly  show. 

The  Professorin  thought  much  of  Manna, 
and  would  willingly  have  given  her  rest; 
would  have  helped  her  over  the  first  days 
and  imparted  what  she  could,  but  she  knew 
very  well  that  it  was  not  best  to  offer  any- 
thing before  it  was  asked  for. 

The  Aunt's  look  and  manner  seemed  al- 
ways to  be  saying :  I  am  all  ready,  if  there 
is  anything  you  want  of  me.  There  was 
no  particular  thing  that  she  desired  to 
proffer  Manna,  but  she  would  have  held 
back  nothing. 

Eric  was  very  deeply  interested;  he 
smiled  to  himself  as  the  comparison  oc- 
curred to  him  :  This  child  out  of  the  convent 
must  feel  as  you  did,  when  you  left  the 
regiment  and  doffed  your  uniform  ;  formerly 
kept  under  strict  discipline,  she  must  now 
be  under  self-discipline  altogether,  and 
must  feel  the  want  of  commands,  of  com- 
rades. 

Manna  took  the  single  seat  under  the 
weeping  ash,  that  had  been  put  in  order  for 
her  again,  and  now  she  wondered  why  she 
had  been  so  rude  yesterday  to  Eric. 

She  wanted  to  say  the  first  time  she  saw 
him  :  Do  not  believe  that  I  presumed  in  this 
way  because  you  are  dependent  and  in  ser- 
vice. 

And  at  this  same  moment  Eric  was  walk- 
ing alone  in  the  park,  and  proposing  to 
say  when  he  should  meet  with  Manna :  I 
would  not  have  our  intercourse  begin  with 
ill-humor  or  a  misunderstanding. 

Manna,  hearing  approaching  footsteps, 
now  looked  up  and  saw  Eric  coming  along 
the  path.  She  remained  seated.  As  he 
came  nearer,  he  greeted  her,  but  neither 
of  them  uttered  the  contemplated  speech. 

Eric  began :  — 

"  I  should  like  to  give  you  a  proof  that  I 
hold  sacred  the  interior  sanctuary  of  your 
thought  —  and  if  yesterday  I  —  it  was  a 
day  of  great  excitement.  I  beg  you  would 
also  remember  that  my  employment  tends 
to  make  me  interest  myself  even  in  the 


thoughts  of  those  with  whom  I  have  no 
concern." 

His  tone  was  subdued.  Manna  was  at  a 
loss  what  to  reply.  Both  were  silent,  and 
there  was  nothing  heard  but  the  singing  of 
the  birds.    At  last  Manna  said  :  — 

"  Tell  me  about  Roland.  What  is  his 
character  ?  " 

"  My  father  used  to  say,  dear  Fräulein, 
"  that  no  one  could  describe  to  another  the 
characteristics  of  his  fellow ;  that  each  one 
sees  the  traits  in  an  entirely  different  light." 

"  You  are  evading  my  question.1' 

"  No.  I  wanted  to  say  to  you  that  I 
do  not  consider  it  feasible  to  characterize 
any  person  justly.  If  I  praise  Roland,  it 
seems  to  me  as  if  I  were  praising  a  portion 
of  myself ;  and  if  I  point  out  his  deficiencies, 
then  perhaps  I  am  too  severe,  because  I 
feel  as  if  they  were  my  own.  One  thing, 
however,  a  human  being  may  be  allowed  to 
say  in  his  own  commendation ;  and  so  I 
may  be  allowed  to  say  of  Roland,  that  he 
has  industry,  perseverance,  and  truthfulness  ; 
this  is  the  solid  rock  on  which  the  moral  su- 
perstructure can  be  erected." 

Manna  involuntarily  held  up  her  prayer- 
book  with  both  hands,  as  if  it  were  a  shield. 

Eric,  thinking  he  understood  the  meaning 
of  this  motion,  said  :  — 

"It  has  been,  and  is,  a  leading  object 
with  me,  that  Roland  should  gain  an  eye  of 
his  own,  and  trust  to  his  own  eye." 

"  An  eye  of  his  own?  "  Manna  asked  in 
wonderment. 

"Yes,  you  will  readily  perceive  what  I 
mean  by  that.  And  now  I  have  one  favor 
to  ask  for  myself." 

"  For  yourself?  " 

"  Yes.  Simply  believe  that  I  hold  in  high 
respect  your  ideal  of  life,  because  I  regard 
it  as  sincere  in  you ;  and  the  favor  I  have 
to  ask  is,  that  you  will  do  the  same  with 
me." 

"  I  was  not  aware  —  "Manna  answered, 
blushing  deeply. 

A  sort  of  pain  darted  through  her  soul.; 
on  her  face  there  was  an  expression  of  per- 
plexity and  conflict,  for  she  was  haunted  by 
what  Pranken  had  said.  Is  this  demand  of 
Eric's  what  Pranken^  had  called  setting  up 
as  a  pattern  of  honesty,  and  did  Eric,  who 
might  know  of  that  view,  exhort  her  to 
judge  impartially,  whilst  he  laid  a  special 
emphasis  on  having  an  eye  of  one's  own  ? 
She  could  not  complete  her  sentence,  for 
Roland  came  up,  saying,  — 

"Indeed!  Have  you  found  each  other 
out  so  soon  ?  " 

Manna  rose  hastily,  and  went  to  the 
villa,  holding  Roland  by  the  hand. 

Pranken  came  out  with  Sonnenkamp  to 


THE   COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


333 


meet  them,  and  immediately  said  that  he 
had  been  to  church  too ;  but  he  considered 
it  a  duty  not  to  distract  Manna  by  speaking 
to  her  in  the  morning. 

Manna  expressed  her  thanks. 

At  breakfast,  Pranken  had  many  anec- 
dotes to  relate,  and  he  did  it  well,  of  the 
royal  hunting-lodge,  and  particularly  of 
events  at  Court.  And  he  succeeded  in  giv- 
ing a  new  and  humorous  setting  out  to 
many  worn-out  garrison  stories,  that  were 
fresh  to  this  circle. 

"  Dear  child,'1  Sonnenkamp  broke  in, 
"  you  have  not  congratulated  Herr  von 
Pranken  on  his  appointment  as  chamber- 
lain." 

Manna  bowed  in  congratulation,  and 
Pranken  referred  in  a  cheerful  way  to  the 
contrast  there  would  be  between  his  sum- 
mer life  as  a  husbandman,  and  his  winter  as 
chamberlain.  He  said,  further,  that  the 
happiest  day  of  his  life  had  been  the  one 
he  had  spent  on  the  island  ploughing ; 
and  a  single  rose  was  the  only  thing  that  he 
envied,  upon  which  glances  fell  that  he- 
would  have  liked  to  turn  towards  himself. 

Manna  blushed. 

Pranken  went  on  to  say  that  the  Prince 
would  drink  the  waters,  this  summer,  at 
Carlsbad. 

Sonnenkamp  immediately  added,  that 
Doctor  Richard  some  time  ago  had  pre- 
scribed these  Waters  to  him  as  better  suited 
to  his  case  than  those  of  Vichy. 

All  the  links  seemed  supplied  for  a  com- 
plete chain  when  Pranken  narrated,  in  con- 
tinuation, that  his  brother-in-law  Clodwig, 
and  his  sister  Bella,  would  visit  Carlsbad 
this  summer. 

"  And  you  must  accompany  us,"  Sonnen- 
kamp said,  nodding  to  Pranken. 

Before  she  was  fairly  settled  at  home, 
Manna  saw  herself  withdrawn  from  thence 
into  the  whirlpool  of  a  watering-place  life. 
Mention  was  made  of  Lina's  non-acceptance 
of  the  invitation,  and  Pranken  spoke  very 
cleverly  of  the  pleasant  impression  that 
her  half-childlike,  half-matronly  appearance 
made  upon  him.  He  wanted  to  obviate  any 
ill  effects  from  Manna's  hearing  that  he  had 
for  a  while  paid  court  to  her  friend.  He 
then  declared  that  he  would  take  the  snow- 
white  pony  to  Wolfsgarten  with  him,  in  or- 
der to  have  it  perfectly  trained  for  Manna. 
Her  remark,  that  she  now  took  no  pleasure 
on  horseback,  was  set  aside  in  an  almost 
authoritative  way  by  her  father,  who  said 
the  physician  had  directed  only  the  day  be- 
fore, that  Manna  should  keep  as  much  as 
possible  in  the  open  air,  and  take  a  great 
deal  of  exercise. 

Manna  must  now  give  a  name  to  the 


snow-white  little  horse.  Pranken  wanted 
to  have  this  done  in  due  form,  but  Manna 
declined.  When  they  rose  from  breakfast, 
she  went  to  the  stable,  and  gave  to  the 
snow-white  pony  three  lumps  of  sugar. 

"  Now  for  the  name  —  the  name  !  "  cried 
Sonnenkamp. 

';  She  has  given  him  his  name,"  replied 
Pranken  laughing;  "  she  has  given  it  to  him 
bodilv.  Sugar  is  the  pony's  name,  is  it 
not?"  _ 

A  smile  passed  over  Manna's  countenance 
for  the  first  time,  as  she  replied,  — 
"  No,  we  will  call  him  •  Snowdrop.' " 
Pranken  bade  her  good-bye  with  much 
feeling,  and  rode  away  in  a  smart  trot  down 
the  road,  making  the  sparks  fly  under  his 
horse's  hoofs.  Manna  saw  the  groom  lead- 
ing behind  him  the  snow-white  pony  by  the 
halter ;  she  would  not  be  perverse,  but  be 
moderate  in  all  things.  It  seemed  to  her 
emblematic,  to  ride  on  horseback  again, 
before  she  renounced  all  worldly  trifles, 
and  lived  wholly  in  herself  and  for  eternal 
realities. 

Manna  accompanied  her  father  through 
the  park  and  garden,  and  through  the  con- 
servatories, and  thanked  him  heartily  for 
promising-  to  send  to  the  convent  beautiful 
flowers,  which  could  thrive  well  there  in 
the  enclosed  courtyard.  Sonnenkamp  had 
it  in  his  mind  to  confide  to  her  the  expected 
elevation  to  the  rank  of  the  nobility,  but  he 
wanted  to  wait  for  a  suitable  opportunity. 
The  child  must  not  be  too  suddenly  intro- 
duced into  the  distracting  whirl.  He  ob- 
served with  satisfaction  the  large  southern 
trees  and  plants,  which  were  soon  to  be 
brought  out  into  the  open  air.  At  first  they 
only  opened  the  doors  in  order  to  let  in 
the  outside  air,  and  then  the  plants  were 
brought  out  into  sheltered  situations  out-of- 
doors.    So  would  he  do  with  his  child. 

Manna  had  soon  made  a  fixed  arrange- 
ment for  the  day's  occupations,  which  she 
adhered  to  as  an  established  rule ;  and  this 
methodical  strictness  soon  exerted  an  influ- 
ence over  the  whole  family.  She  found  it 
difficult  to  deal  with  her  mother,  and  chiefly 
in  the  matter  of  dress  ;  for  Frau  Ceres,  who 
changed  her  dress  several  times  a  day, 
wished  Manna  to  do  the  same.  But  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  putting  on  in  the  morn- 
ing the  dress  which  she  was  to  wear  all  day, 
and  was  even  reluctant  to  accept  any  ser- 
vice from  her  own  dressing-maid.  She  kept 
on  the  morning  dress,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
as  the  only  suitable  thing,  and  alone  worthy 
of  the  higher  human  life,  that  the  nuns  never 
varied  their  dress.  By  this  means  all  dis- 
traction and  waste  of  thought  on  outward 
appearance  were  saved. 


334 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


She  took  no  part  in  the  beneficent  activity 
of  the  Professorin.  She  had  briefly  given 
as  a  reason,,  that  she  had  still  too  much  to 
do  for  herself,  and  was  not  prepared  to  do 
for  others. 

She  had,  moreover,  a  decided  antipathy 
to  the  assistant,  Fräulein  Milch. 

She  did  not  express  this  in  words,  but  in 
her  whole  conduct ;  she  avoided  sneaking 
with  Fraulein  Milch,  and  never  gave  her 
hand  to  her. 

This  was  the  effect  of  Fräulein  Perini's 
teachings,  who  had  withdrawn  her  from  all 
connection  with  Fraulein  Milch  before  Man- 
na had  entered  the  convent,  as  if  the  mod- 
est housekeeper  had  been  a  witch  who  could 
do  her  harm.    She  used  to  say  to  the  child  : 

"  The  whole  life  and  character  of  this  per- 
son are  an  impropriety." 

Manna  took  regular  lessons  of  the  Aunt 
in  harp-playing,  and  Aunt  Claudine  was 
the  only  one  who  seemed  to  possess  her 
confidence.  She  showed  her  copy-books  to 
her,  and  particularly  the  astronomical  ones 
with  the  alternate  blue  leaves  and  the  gold- 
en pictures  of  the  stars. 

During  the  clear  evenings,  she  spent 
several  hours  with  the  Aunt  upon  the  'flat 
roof  of  the  villa,  looking  at  the  stars 
through  a  telescope.  It  was  evident  that 
Manna  had  been  thoroughly  taught ;  for 
the  convent-school  made  a  special  point  of 
surpassing  the  worldly  schools  in  scientific 
instruction.  Of  course,  all  science  was 
confined  within  the  bounds  which  faith  pre- 
scribes. 

With  all  the  dignified  loftiness  of  her  de- 
meanor, there  was  something  charmingly 
attractive  in  Aunt  Claudine  ;  she  seemed  to 
have  lost  or  renounced  something  in  life, 
and  so  there  was  a  gentleness  which  more 
completely  won  Manna's  affection. 

In  the  Professorin,  with  all  her  friendli- 
ness, there  was  something  commanding ; 
she  was  self-contained,  and  gave  without 
ever  receiving. 

Aunt  Claudine,  on  the  other  hand,  in 
spite  of  the  difference  of  years,  could  be  a 
young  person's  friend,  and  Manna  felt  the 
tranquillizing  effect  of  this  friendship. 

Manna's  maturity  of  thought  often  ex- 
cited more  surprise  than  even  her  actual 
knowledge.  Her  emotional  nature  had  been 
widely  developed  ;  her  religious  earnestness 
and  her  settled  religious  convictions  gave 
her  serene  composure  and  elevation,  which 
might  be  mistaken  for  pride.  She  always 
felt  as  if  she  were  placed  on  an  invisible 
height,  far  above  those  who  had  no  living 
faith.  But  this  was  not  a  boastful  feeling 
of  superiority  ;  it  was  a  sense  of  being  sup- 
ported, every  moment,  by  all  the  great  in- 


fluences and  views  through  whose  aid  so 
many  holy  men  and  women  had  won  the 
battle  of  life. 

Manna  took  especial  delight  in  the  les- 
sons upon  the  harp ;  she  said  to  the  Aunt, 
that  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had  never 
heard  herself  before. 

The  Aunt  explained  that  this  was  the 
first  step  of  progress that  improvement 
really  begins  when  one  hears  and  sees  him- 
self. 

Manna's  eyes  beamed  softly,  and  she 
asked  Aunt  Claudine  if  this  standing  up 
alone  by  one's  self  in  the  world  had  not 
often  been  very  hard  for  her. 

"  Certainly,  my  child.  When  one  in 
youth  makes  a  decision  that  affects  the 
whole  life,  he  does  not  know  the  real  mean- 
ing of  it." 

Manna  grasped  convulsively  the  cross 
upon  her  bosom,  and  the  Aunt  continued :  — 

"  Yes,  my  child,  it  requires  courage  and 
energy  to  be  an  old  maid  ;  at  the  time  this 
resolution  is  taken,  one  is  not  fully  conscious 
of  how  much  it  will  require.  Now,  when  I  am 
alone,  I  am  contented  and  peaceful;  but  in 
society  and  the  world,  I  seem  to  myself  often 
so  superfluous,  and  as  if  only  tolerated  out 
of  pity.  Yes,  my  child,  and  one  must  take 
care  not  to  be  compassionate  and  sentimen- 
tal towards  one's  self,  or  bitter ;  for  the  pity- 
ing of  one's  self  often  leads  to  bitterness  and 
resentfulness." 

"I  can  comprehend  that,"  returned  Man- 
na. "  Did  you  never  have  a  longing  to  be 
able  to  enter  a  convent  ?  " 

"  My  child,  I  would  not  like  to  mislead 
and  disturb  you." 

"  No,  say  what  you  please,  I  can  hear  it 
all." 

"  Well,  then,  there  are  some  institutions 
productive  of  so  much  harm,  that  they  have 
forfeited  the  right  of  being  perpetuated,  at 
least,  as  we  regard  it.  And,  dear  child,  I 
could  not,  myself,  live  without  art,  without 
secular  music,  without  the  sight  of  what  the 
plastic  arts  have  produced  and  are  still  pro- 
ducing ;  herein  I  agree  fully  with  my  broth- 
er." 

Manna  looked  in  amazement  at  the  Aunt ; 
and  she  had  the  impression  that  a  new  view 
of  life  was  unfolded  to  her,  that  was  like 
the  religious,  and  yet  wholly  peculiar  in  it- 
self. 

Towards  Eric's  mother,  Manna  was  re- 
spectful but  reserved.  She  treated  her 
brother's  teacher  as  a  member  of  the  fam- 
ily, but  as  a  piece  of  property,  an  object  of 
utility,  to  which  one  could  have  recourse 
whenever  there  was  need.  There  were 
hours  and  days  when  she  had  no  more  to 
do  with  him  than  if  he  had  been  a  chair  or 


4 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


335 


a  table.  She  often  put  a  question  to  him 
directly  and  naturally,  if  she  wanted  any 
particular  thing  elucidated  ;  and  as  soon  as 
Eric  began  to  expatiate  beyond  the  special 
topic  under  consideration,  she  would  say 
with  great  decision  :  — 

"  I  did  not  want  to  know  about  that.  I 
thank  you  for  the  information  you  have 
given.1' 

She  never  received  any  instruction  for 
which  she  did  not  immediately  thank  him, 
just  as  she  would  a  servant  for  anything 
handed  to  her. 

The  whole  family  had  the  feeling  that 
here  was  a  strength  adequate  to  attain  its 
own  end. 

Manna  did  not  visit  in  the  neighborhood  ; 
she  insisted  upon  it  that  she  had  come  only 
to  be  with  her  parents  and  her  brother,  and 
no  one  else. 

Sonnenkamp  was  alarmed  at  this  deter- 
mined and  uncompliant  bearing. 

CHAPTER  HI, 
EVERYTHING  FLIES  THAT  HAS  WINGS. 

Manna  soon  expressed  a  determined 
purpose  to  get  a  better  insight  into  the 
method  and  direction  of  her  brother's  educa- 
tion. She  wanted  to  be  present  at  Eric's 
lessons. 

Sonnenkamp  endeavored  to  induce  the 
Aunt  to  inform  Eric  of  this  request,  but  she 
declined.  Manna  had  better  ask  him  her- 
self. 

Sonnenkamp  was  deeply  vexed  at  this 
refusal,  but  Manna's  resolution  was  taken 
at  once.  She  expressed  her  wish  at  the 
table,  assigning  no  reason,  for  she  thought 
that  the  real  one  might  wound,  and  any 
other  than  the  real  one  she  could  not  con- 
sent to  offer  as  a  pretext. 

After  they  had  risen  from  the  table,  Eric 
gave  her  the  arrangement  of  the  hours  of 
study,  and  declared  himself  ready  to  con- 
form to  her  wishes,  merely  adding  that  he 
should  continue  his  instruction  without  any 
reference  to  her  presence. 

Manna  now  sat  at  the  window  with  her 
embroidery,  whilst  Eric  and  Roland  pur- 
sued their  occupations  at  the  table.  By 
noon  Manna  had  laid  aside  her  work,  and 
was  listening  with  closed  eyes.  The  next 
day  she  brought  no  work  with  her,  and 
thus  she  sat  there  day  after  day  with  the 
two,  listening  with  interest  even  to  the 
mathematics.  The  musical  voice  of  Eric 
seemed  to  have  a  magical  charm  for  the 
proud  and  cold  maiden,  and  at  many  an 
utterance  she  opened  wide  her  eyes,  as  if 
she  must  satisfy  herself  who  this  really  was 
that  was  speaking. 


One  day,  however,  she  came  only  to  say 
that  she  should  come  no  more. 

"I  could  still  learn  a  great  deal  from 
you,"  she  said,  "but  it  is  better  that  I 
should  keep  by  myself.  I  thank  you,"  she 
said  again ;  but  as  if  recollecting  that  she 
was  continually  doing  this,  she  quickly 
added,  — 

"  I  thank  you  differently  from  what  I 
have  before.  I  acknowledge  the  delicacy 
with  which  you  have  spared  me  the  per- 
plexity of  answering  the  question  I  see  you 
wanted  to  put  to  me,  whether  I  was  satis- 
fied with  your  instruction.  It  is  very  kind 
not  to  have  asked  this  question." 

"  You  are  good  at  reading  countenances," 
answered  Eric.    And  so  they  parted. 

From  this  time  Manna's  haughty  and 
even  her  confident  bearing  toward  Eric  was 
gone ;  there  was  a  sort  of  shyness,  and  she 
seldom  spoke  to  him.  But  this  want  of 
notice  was  something  very  far  removed 
from  that  haughty  indifference  with  which 
she  had  formerly  disregarded  him ;  there 
was  defiance,  angry  resistance  in  her  de- 
meanor, as  if  she  would  say,  I  do  not 
comprehend  why  you  are  of  any  interest  to 
me  whatever. 

Manna  also  occasionally  visited  the  castlo, 
going  by  herself  with  her  two  dogs.  She 
had  the  Architect  explain  to  her  the  plans 
of  this  building  as  it  was  being  restored, 
and  as  it  existed  formerly. 

She  took  an  interest  in  the  work,  and 
entered  into  consultation  with  her  father  in 
regard  to  the  fitting  up  of  the  hall  already 
finished,  the  so-called  Knight's  ball. 

Sonnenkamp  was  busily  employed  in  buy- 
ing the  ancient  weapons  to  be  hung  upon 
the  walls,  and  the  armor  to  be  placed  upon 
the  pillars.  He  could  not  refrain  from  say- 
ing to  Manna  beforehand,  that  he  intended 
to  dedicate  the  castle  in  the  autumn,  on  her 
birthday ;  but  she  desired  that  this  should 
be  omitted.  This  continual  festivity  and 
banqueting  did  not  suit  her ;  and  she  was 
particularly  anxious  that  her  birthday  should 
be  marked  by  no  external  celebration,  even 
of  the  simplest  kind. 

Since  her  return  from  the  convent,  if  she 
would  honestly  confess  it  to  herself,  — and 
Manna  ventured  to  confess  all,  —  she  had 
taken  greater  pleasure  in  her  dogs  than  in 
anything  else.  She  had  even  written  a 
letter  to  the  Superior,  asking  whether  they 
would  allow  her  to  bring  a  dog  with  her 
into  the  convent,  but  had  burned  the  letter 
afterwards.  She  represented  to  herself 
how  laughable  it  would  be  for  a  nun  to  be 
going  through  the  garden  with  a  dog  at  her 
heels,  and  how  intolerable  if  every  nun  had 
a  dog  of  her  own.    She  smiled  to  herself 


336 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


for  the  first  time,  and  then  again  asked 
herself  the  question,  Why  do  we  have 
no  animals  in  the  convent  ?  Eric  found 
her  as  she  was  sitting  down  and  talking  to 
her  dogs. 

"Do  you  not  think,"  she  asked,  "  that  a 
dog,  this  one,  for  instance,  has  an  unspeaka- 
bly sad  expression  of  face?1' 

"  Whoever  looks  for  it  can  find  it.  The 
mystics  say  that  it  came  from  the  fall  of 
man;  that  since  then,  all  creatures  have  a 
mournful  expression." 

Manna  thanked  him,  but  this  time  with  a 
look  only,  and  not  with  words.  Surprising 
how  the  man  can  enter  into  every  thing ! 
And  why  is  he  still  a  heretic  !  Why  ?  " 

A  carriage  was  advancing  toward  them, 
and  a  white  handkerchief  was  already  wav- 
ing in  the  distance.  "  Manna  !  "  was  called 
out ;  Eric  withdrew.  Manna  rose  and  went 
to  meet  Lina,  who  got  out  and  let  the  car- 
riage drive  on. 

4  4  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Lina,  "  you  are 
already  on  such  good  terms  with  one 
another!  you  need  hide  nothing  fromme. 
Ah,  how  fine  !  This  is  right  splendid  !  I've 
something  to  tell  you  about  my  love ;  now 
kiss  me.  Ah,  I  see  you  haven't  kissed 
each  other  yet,  you  don't  how  to  kiss. 
Just  think,  Manna,  how  simple  I've  been; 
I  made  myself  believe,  at  one  time,  that  the 
Baron  von  Pranken  was  fond  of  me  —  no, 
that's  not  exactly  what  I  meant,  but  I  made 
myself  believe  that  I  liked  him,  and  now  I 
will  tell  you  at  once,  that  I  love  and  I  am 
loved." 

"  We  all  love  God,  and  we  are  loved  by 
him." 

"Ah,  yes,  by  God  too.  But  Albert  — 
Do  you  know  Albert?  you  must  know  him, 
for  he's  building  a  castle  for  you.  At  that 
time  at  the  musical  festival  —  I  saw  you  at 
once,  and  beckoned  to  you,  but  you  didn't 
observe  me  —  that  was  the  very  first  time 
we  ever  came  to  an  explanation.  Ah, 
you  can't  begin  to  think  how  happy  I  am. 
At  the  beginning  I  couldn't  take  part  in  the 
singing :  I  was  afraid  all  the  time  I  should 
scream  too  loud  ;  but  after  that  I  sang  with 
the  rest.  Ah,  it  was  so  beautiful  —  so 
beautiful !  we  did  nothing  else  but  float 
away  in  music;  and  he  sings  splendidly  too, 
though  not  so  grandly  as  Herr  Dournay. 
Now  do  tell  me,  Manna,  Iioav  you  felt  when 
you  heard  him  sing  so?  Did  you  know 
that  he  was  the  man  you  asked  me  about 
when  you  had  the  angel-wings  on  your 
shoulders." 

Lina  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  went 
on  :  — 

"  You  must  have  seen  me  on  the  shore, 
when  I  met  you,  and  I  was  leaning  on  my 


Albert's  arm  for  the  first  time.  I  didn't 
want  to  speak  to  you  there  among  the  nuns 
and  scholars  ;  I  shouldn't  have  been  able  to 
tell  you  all  there.  You  don't  take  it  amiss 
that  I  didn't  appear  to  see  you  ?  Ah,  I  saw 
everybody,  the  whole  world  at  once  !  Ah, 
and  all  was  so  splendid !  And  at  the  table 
there  'twas  so  merry  !  And  once  he  asked 
me  why  I  seemed  all  at  once  so  sad.  Then 
I  confessed  to  him  that  I  was  thinking  of 
you,  how  you  were  going  back  again  to  the 
convent,  where  'twas  so  silent  and  so  dull. 
I  think  the  corridors  have  all  got  a  cold. 
Ah,  why  can't  you  be  as  merry  as  we  ?  Do 
be  merry !  There's  nothing  better  in  the 
world,  and  you've  got  all,  and  can  have  all 
in  the  world.  Oh,  do  be  merry  !  Ah,  there 
flies  a  swallow,  the  first  swallow.  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  fly  in  that  way  up  to  him  at  the 
castle,  and  bid  him  good-morning,  and  keep 
flying  to  him  and  flying  away  again.  Ah, 
Manna  !  Manna  ! " 

It  was  very  odd  to  her  to  see  and  hear  this 
joyous,  fluttering  youthful  companion  ;  she 
could  say  nothing  in  response,  and  Lina  did 
not  seem  to  expect  her  to  say  anything,  for 
she  continued : 

"  So  I  was  thinking  as  I  was  coming  here, 
that  if  I  were  you,  I'd  issue  an  order  or 
something  of  that  sort  to  the  whole  country 
round,  that  in  three  days  they  should  bring 
me  all  the  birds  they  could  catch,  and  I'd 
pay  them  an  awful  amount  of  money  for 
doing  it,  and  then  I'd  let  all  the  birds  fly 
away  again  up  into  the  air.  Don't  you  feel 
as  if  you  were  a  bird  that  had  been  caught, 
and  had  got  free  again  ?  Ah,  and  it's  smart 
in  you  to  come  in  the  spring ;  there's  too 
much  dancing  to  be  done,  if  you  come  home 
in  the  winter.  Fourteen  balls  I  went  to, 
the  first  winter,  and  ever  so  many  small 
parties.  And  if  one  then  has  her  sweet- 
heart —  Ah,  Manna,  you  can't  think  how 
beautiful  that  is  !  or  perhaps  you  do  know 
now*  I  beg  you  do  tell  me  every  thing.  I 
am  not  yet  betrothed  to  Albert,  but  we  are 
as  good  as  betrothed.  You  won't  be  a  nun, 
will  you  ?  Believe  what  I  say,  they  don't 
want  you  for  a  nun  at  all,  they  are  only  after 
your  money.  Would  you  like  to  be  a  bar- 
oness ?  I  shouldn't.  To  be  "  my  lady'd  " 
all  the  time  when  there's  no  need  of  it,  and 
then  to  be  laughed  at  behind  one's  back ; 
no,  I  shouldn't  like  it  at  all.  If  a  born  lady 
does  anything  foolish,  there's  nothing  to  be 
said ;  but  if  one  of  us  commits  a  folly,  hi ! 
the  whole  city  and  the  whole  land  has  to 
bear  the  blame  of  it.  Ah,  such  a  rich  girl 
has  a  good  deal  to  suffer  for  it !  Here 
come  the  men  and  want  to  marry  her  money, 
and  here  come  the  nuns  and  want  her  to 
become  a  nun  for  her  money.    You  may  be 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


337 


sure,  if  you  were  one  of  those  women  yonder 
carrying  coals  out  of  the  boat,  the  nuns 
wouldn't  have  you  ;  you  might  be  as  clever, 
and  as  lovable,  and  as  good  as  you  are  now. 
Yes,  if  you  hadn't  any  money,  and  if  you 
hadn't  so  much  money,  the  nuns  wouldn't 
want  to  have  anything  to  do  with  you. 
Don't  they  try  to  make  you  believe  that  I 
you've  been  called  to  be  a  saint  ?  D.on't 
believe  it.  Ah,  in  the  convent  !  When  I 
hear  people  telling  how  beautiful  it  was 
there  on  the  convent-island,  I've  always 
thought :  Yes  indeed,  right  pretty,  if  one 
only  goes  there  on  a  pleasure  excursion ; 
but  to  be  a  nun  there  !  — Ah,  Manna,  if  I 
could  only  make  you  as  happy  as  I  am  ! 
Do  be  jolly  too  !  Ah,  good  heavens,  why 
can't  one  give  to  another  some  of  his  enjoy- 
ment ;  I've  so  much  —  so  much,  and  I  should 
like  most  dearly  to  give  some  of  it  to  you. 
But  what  do  we  talk  so  much  for?  Come, 
catch  me  !  Do  you  remember  our  old  play  : 
4  Everything  flies  that  has  wings  1  ?  Come, 
catch  me  !  " 

Lina  ran  off  with  fluttering  garments,  and 
when  she  stopped  saw  that  Manna  had  not 
followed  her.  She  waited  until  she  came 
up,  and  the  two  maidens  walked  in  silence 
to  the  villa. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
"  THROUGH  THE  NEW  DOOR." 

Lina  staid  with  Manna,  so  that  she  was 
unable  to  shake  off  her  school-friend.  When 
they  went  together  to  church,  if  Manna  said, 
going  and  returning,  that  she.  would  rather 
not  talk  in  the  morning,  then  Lina  insisted 
that  Manna  need  not  say  anything,  she 
would  do  all  the  talking  herself.  She  chatted 
about  everything  that  came  into  her  mind, 
things  past  and  things  to  come. 

As  soon  as  she  woke  up  she  ran  through 
the  gamut,  then  ran  trilling  through  the 
house,  and  almost  every  hour  of  the  day, 
when  there  was  no  caller  and  they  were 
within  doors,  she  sat  at  the  piano  in  the 
music  saloon,  singing  and  playing  inces- 
santly, mixing  up  serious  and  melancholy, 
classic  and  modern  music,  no  matter  what, 
so  that  it  made  sound  enough.  She  would 
follow  up  one  of  Pergolese's  mournful  dirges 
with  a  merry  Tyrolese  carol. 

The  whole  house  was  entirely  changed  by 
Lina's  presence,  and  at  the  table  there  was 
a  great  deal  of  laughter.  In  cherry  time 
the  hot-houses  at  Villa  Eden  already  sup- 
plied early  apples  ;  and  Lina  had  the  habit 
of  never  peeling  an  apple,  but  biting  into 
it  whole,  congratulating  herself  that  she 
could  do  it  without  being  reprimanded  by 
her  mother.    She  paid  no  regard  to  Son- 


nenkamp's  reproving  look ;  she  was  an  in- 
dependent girl,  doing  recklessly  whatever 
she  fancied,  and  so  accustomed  to  being 
scolded,  that  she  had  become  hardened  to 
it. 

Lina  ate  heartily,  like  a  good  healthy  peas- 
ant girl,  while  Manna  ate  as  if  it  were  a 
matter  of  compulsion.  Lina  took  pleasure 
in  eating,  and  was  hungry  all  the  time.  She 
could  always  take  something,  she  said  of 
herself,  and  if  anything  at  the  table  had  a 
particularly  good  relish,  she  would  say  :  — 

"Aren't  you  glad,  Manna,  that  you've 
got  rid  of  that  convent  food?  Ah,  my  first 
meal  at  home  was  a  new  experience  to  me, 
and  here  you  have  very  nice  things." 

She  also  liked  a  glass  of  wine,  and  was 
rallied  on  that  account.  She  begged  Eric 
to  defend  her,  and  he  replied  :  — 

"That's  easily  done.  It's  a  romantic 
absurdity  to  look  upon  it  as  a  fine  thing 
for  a  girl  not  to  take  pleasure  in  eating  and 
drinking ;  and  drinking  wine  is  assuredly 
not  an  unfeminine  act.  Isn't  drinking  wine 
a  much  pleasanter  thing  to  see  than  eating 
meat,  nourishing  one's  self  with*  animal 
food?" 

Everybody  laughed  except  Manna,  who 
looked  at  Eric  with  an  unmoved  face. 
Strange  how  this  man  gives  a  surprising 
turn  to  every  thought,  and  induces  surpris- 
ing turns  of  thought  in  other  people  ! 

Manna  felt  as  if  she  were  driven  out  of 
the  house  by  Lina's  presence. 

Only  at  Frau  Dournay's,  for  whom  Lina 
entertained  a  holy  awe,  could  Manna  get 
any  time  for  being  alone ;  she  felt  herself 
in  concealment  when  she  fled  to  the  green 
cottage,  and  by  this  means  she  came  nearer 
to  the  Professorin,  almost  in  spite  of  her- 
self. Her  uniform  serenity  of  soul,  her 
never-failing  willingness  to  devote  herself 
to  others,  were  perceived  by  Manna,  and 
she  was  startled  at  hearing  her  say, — 

"  You  wanted  to  make  a  request  of  me, 
dear  child.    Why  do  you  hold  back  ?  " 

"  I,  a  request  ?    What  request  ?  " 

"  You  would  like  that  Lina  should  come 
here,  but  you  avoid  acknowledging  this  to 
me  and  to  her.  If  you  will  honestly  confess 
to  me  that  you  would  like  this,  I  will  ar- 
range the  matter." 

Manna  confessed  that  she  had  not  had 
the  courage  to  express  her  wish. 

By  the  next  day  Lina  was  settled  at  the 
cottage  with  the  Professorin,  and  there  she 
was  merry  as  a  cricket,  and  enlivened  the 
whole  house  with  her  cheerfulness,  and  her 
fresh  bubbling  gaiety  alone.  Wherever  she 
was,  walking,  standing,  or  sitting,  she  sang 
to  herself  like  a  bird  on  the  branch,  and  the 
breasts  of  the  hearers  were  refreshed.  The 


338 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Aunt  played  an  accompaniment  for  her 
songs,  and  the  clear,  bell-like  tone  of  her 
voice  was  full  of  fresh  health  and  bright  joy. 
She  sang  without  the  least  effort,  and  her 
love  added  a  tone  of  deep  feeling  to  her 
singing,  which  one  would  not  have  supposed 
she  possessed. 

She  was  perfectly  undisciplined,  but  she 
was  very  particular  about  her  dress,  espec- 
ially since  she  had  been  in  love,  and  she 
liked  to  look  at  herself  in  the  glass.  But 
to  bother  herself  about  the  inner  life,  — 
"That's  not  my  style,"  was  her  uniform 
manner  of  speaking.  She  lived  her  own 
life,  was  a  Catholic,  because  she  was  born 
so,  and  it  was  too  much  trouble  to  make 
any  change.  She  laughed,  sang  and  danced  ; 
yesterday  is  gone,  and  to-morrow  will  look 
out  for  itself.  Amongst  all  these  persons 
who  bore  a  heavy  burden  in  their  souls, 
who  were  imposing  some  heavy  task  upon 
themselves,  Lina  was  the  only  light-hearted 
child  of  nature ;  and  she  was  regarded  by 
those  who  looked  upon  her  rather  with  en- 
vious than  contemptuous  eyes. 

' 1  Ah  !  could  one  but  be  like  her ! "  sighed 
each  one  in  his  own  way. 

Lina,  gradually,  became  less  demonstra- 
tive and  excitable  through  the  quiet  in- 
fluence of  the  Professorin.  It  gave  her 
pleasure  to  be  able  to  understand  a  great 
deal  of  what  the  Professorin  said  ;  but  there 
were  many  things  beyond  her  comprehen- 
sion. What  does  it  matter  ?  One  must 
not  take  all  there  is  in  the  dish, —  one  must 
leave  something  for  others. 

It  was  beantiful  to  see  Manna  coming  in 
her  bright  summer  dress  through  the  park 
to  the  cottage.  But  she  manifested  to  the 
Professorin  only  a  respectful  confidence ; 
she  always  addressed  her  as  Madame,  and 
spoke  to  her  in  French,  the  language  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  use  at  the  convent. 
To  all  questions  she  gave  direct  answers. 

"  Had  you  any  particular  friend  at  the 
convent  ?  "  the  Professorin  once  asked. 

"No,  it  is  not  allowed.  One  must  not 
show  any  special  affection,  but  treat  all 
with  an  equal  love." 

"  If  it  would  not  weary  you,  I  should  like 
to  ask  another  question." 

"  Oh,  you  do  not  weary  me  in  the  least. 
I  like  to  talk  of  the  convent  better  than  any 
thing  else  ;  I  think  of  it  ail  the  time.  Ask 
what  you  please." 

"  Had  you  a  particularly  confidential  re- 
lation with  any  one  of  the  ladies  ?  " 

Manna  mentioned  the  name  of  the  Su- 
perior, and  was  greatly  surprised  to  hear 
the  Professorin  extol  the  beauty  of  such  a 
life  as  hers;  that  there  could  be  nothing 


more  blissful  than  to  confer  peace  and  joy 
upon  young  children,  to  aid  them  to  become 
strong,  to  overcome  the  trials  of  existence. 
It  was  a  Life  that  death  could  not  change, 
and  in  which  the  sorrow  of  parting  and 
absence  could  never  be  known. 

The  Professorin  repeated  that  she  should 
regard  it  as  a  crime,  to  say  a  single  word 
that  should  shake  a  soul  desiring  to  devote 
itself  to  such  a  life. 

"Dear  child,  thou  hast  chosen  the  right 
path  according  to  thy  light." 

Manna  bowed,  and  she  seemed  transfig- 
ured. It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  the 
Professorin  had  spoken  to  her  all  at  once 
so  affectionately.  But  now  she  shrank  into 
herself  with  alarm.  Is  this  not  one  of  the 
temptations  ?  Does  not  this  woman  praise 
her,  enter  into  her  utmost  soul,  in  order  to 
win  her  over  and  seduce  her  from  the  faith  ? 
A  glance  of  suspicion  shot  from  those  youth- 
ful eyes  upon  the  elderly  lady.  And  yet 
Manna  returned,  again  and  again,  to  the 
Professorin,  as  is  if  she  were  fleeing  from 
something,  and  could  find  concealment  only 
there. 

Frau  Dournay's  uniform  serenity  of  soul, 
her  perpetual  willingness  to  devote  herself 
to  the  service  of  others,  had  a  magnetic  at- 
traction for  her,  and  before  she  was  aware 
of  it,  she  formed  more  intimate  relations, 
and  became  more  confidential  with  the  Pro- 
fessorin than  she  had  ever  believed  possible. 

The  struggle  and  the  vacillation  of  the 
girl's  young  heart  were  revealed  first  of  all 
to  the  Professorin.  As  they  were  sitting 
once  in  the  garden,  having  fortunately  de- 
clined to  go  with  Lina,  Roland,  and  Eric, 
on  an  excursion  upon  the  Rhine,  Manna 
said,  looking  timidly  around, — 

"  Why  should  it  be  a  sin  to  take  delight 
in  nature  ?  Is  not  joy  itself  a  sort  of  devo- 
tion ?  " 

The  Professorin  making  no  reply,  Man- 
na said  with  pressing  earnestness  :  — 

"  Do  speak,  I  entreat  you." 

"A  writer,"  replied  she,  "whom  you 
do  not  probably  revere  as  we  do,  has  said : 
God  loves  better  to  see  a  heart  filled  with 
joy  than  with  sorrow." 

"  What's  the  man's  name  ?  " 

"  Gotthold  Lessing." 

Manna  requested  to  have  the  passage 
pointed  out.  The  Professorin  brought  the 
book,  and  from  that  time  there  was  a  free 
interchange  of  thought  between  them.  The 
Professorin  continued  very  cautious  in  her 
remarks,  and  repeated  that  she  should  look 
upon  it  as  a  sacrilege  to  deprive  a  believing 
heart  of  its  religious  convictions. 

Manna  declared  that  she  was  strong 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


339 


enough  to  enter  into  the  thoughts  of  the 
children  of  the  world,  as  they  are  termed, 
without  getting  lost  herself. 

The  Professorin  repeatedly  warned  and 
advised  her,  but  she  insisted  that  she  had 
returned  to  the  world  in  order  to  perceive 
what  it  had  to  proffer  to  her,  and  then  to 
renounce  all  freely.  She  expressed  a  firm 
determination  not  to  become  Pranken's  wife, 
in  fact,  not  to  be  married  at  all.  She  came 
very  near  disclosing  to  the  Professorin,  that 
she  wanted  to  devote  herself  as  an  expiatory 
sacrifice,  not  from  compulsion,  but,  through 
heavenly  grace,  freely  renouncing  all  the 
delights  of  the  world. 

"  To  you,11  said  Manna,  with  tearful  eyes, 
"I  could  tell  all." 

It  would  have  required  only  a  single 
word,  one  encouraging  appeal,  and  Manna 
would  have  told  everything  to  the  Mother. 
But  she  earnestly  entreated  not  to  be  made 
the  repository  of  any  secret ;  not  because 
she  could  not  keep  it  faithfully,  but  it  would 
be  a  burden  to  her,  and  she  should  never 
feel  at  peace  if  she  should  divert  a  being 
formed  to  live  in  the  purest  sphere  from  oc- 
cupying her  true  place.  She  spoke  very 
guartledly,  choosing  her  words  carefully, 
for  Manna  must  not  have  the  least  suspicion 
that  she  also  was  hiding  a  secret ;  she 
simply  let  it  be  understood  that  she  favored 
the  maiden's  resolution  to  take  the  veil. 

Something  of  Sonnenkamp's  nature  seemed 
awakened  in  Manna's  soul.  Was  this  wo- 
man encouraging  her  only  in  order  to  gain 
a  firmer  hold  upon  her  ?  But  then,  as  she 
looked  up  into  the  quiet,  calm  face  of  the 
Mother,  she  felt  impelled  to  fall  upon  her 
neck  and  beg  her  forgiveness  for  having 
had  such  unjust  thoughts  of  her.  The  Pro- 
fessorin saw  the  conflict  in  the  child,  but 
gave  it  a  different  interpretation ;  she  had 
no  suspicion  that  distrust  of  the  worst  kind 
was  felt  by  Manna. 

As  Manna  passed  through  the  new  door 
on  her  way  home  through  the  meadows, 
she  suddenly  stood  still.  Here  she  had 
stood  on  the  first  morning,  here  had  the 
thought  darted  through  her  soul  that  she 
must  often  pass  through  this  gateway,  over 
this  path,  engaged  in  deep  struggles,  and 
I  contending  for  victory.  This  foreboding 
had  now  been  realized. 

CHAPTER  V. 
BE  LED  INTO  TEMPTATION. 

Manna  went  regularly  to  church,  and 
prayed  with  constant  and  unchanging  fer- 
vor, but  a  peculiar  shyness  held  her  back 
from  the  parsonage.  She  said  constantly 
to  herself  that  the  Priest  himself  had  told 


her  that  it  would  be  well  to  avoid  seeing 
him  for  a  time,  till  she  had  become  familiar 
with  her  new  life. 

Often,  in  the  midst  of  conversation  with 
the  Professorin,  a  fear  came  over  her  that 
she  was  binding  herself  too  closely  to  the  life 
of  another,  and  she  felt  that  she  must  regain 
her  power  of  looking  beyond  all  the  varying 
phenomena  of  the  world.  She  at  last  came 
to  the  determination  to  go  to  the  Priest,  to 
whom  she  began  to  explain  and  excuse  her 
long  absence  ;  but  he  interrupted  her  mildly, 
saying  that  she  need  tell  him  nothing,  he 
had  read  her  soul,  and  believed  that  he 
understood  her  feelings ;  she  must  appear 
to  herself,  like  a  person  who,  returning  to 
earth  after  his  departure  from  it,  watches 
the  actions  of  men,  their  restless  days  and 
nights  of  painful  dreams,  their  attempts  to 
satisfy  or  to  benumb  the  conscience. 

He  impressed  it  upon  her  that  she  ought 
to  judge  people  gently  ;  the  worst  sinners  in- 
deed were  those  who  believed  they  knew 
what  they  were  doing,  and  it  was  most  diffi- 
cult to  pardon  them ;  but  if  we  take  the 
highest  views,  these  were  the  ones  who  most 
needed  forgiveness,  because,  in  spite  of 
what  they  say,  they  really  do  not  know 
what  they  do,  and  we  can  always  say  of 
them,  Lord,  forgive  them.  There  is  noth- 
ing left  for  us,  but  silently  to  pray  for  their 
salvation,  imploring  the  merciful  Father  to 
grant  them  redemption. 

Without  mentioning  any  name,  he  then 
went  on  to  represent  to  her  that  there  are 
some  people,  who,  with  outward  piety  and 
self-complacency,  perform  so-called  good 
works,  and  borrow  holy  words  for  the  ex- 
pression of  thoughts  far  removed  from  what 
is  really  divine. 

He  thus  described  the  Professorin  with- 
out naming  her. 

Then  he  delineated  others,  who,  full  of 
knowledge,  swerve  constantly  from  the 
central  truth,  and  who,  without  having  any 
fixed  goal  of  their  own,  imagine  that  they 
are  able  to  lead  others. 

Thus  he  delineated  Eric. 

With  the  greatest  caution  he  painted  the 
men  *of  the  world,  who  wish  to  force  the 
Lord  of  heaven  and  earth  to  show  them  fa- 
vor, and  who  with  their  scoffs  banish  all  hu- 
mility. He  openly  named  as  examples 
Doctor  Richard  and  the  Weidmann  circle, 
but  at  the  same  time  he  had  Sonnenkamp 
in  view,  but  the  daughter  must  make  this 
application  for  herself. 

Manna  listened  eagerly.  As  she  looked 
out  of  the  window,  her  eyes  rested  on  her 
father's  house,  with  the  park  and  garden, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  they  must  all  be 
overwhelmed,  the  waters  surge  up  from  the 


340 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Rhine,  the  everlasting  floods  submerge  the 
earth,  and  only  here  in  this  room  is  the  ark 
of  safety. 

Timidly,  hardly  breathing  the  words  aloud, 
she  mournfully  asked  why  the  task  of  re- 
turning into  lile  was  laid  upon  her. 

The  Priest  gently  consoled  her,  telling 
her  that,  as  an  eye  which  must  soon  close, 
to  open  again  in  eternity,  watched  from  this 
window  over  all  which  passed  below  in  the 
valley,  so  an  unchanging  eye  was  watching 
over  her  ;  she  must  enter  the  tumult  without 
fear,  having  within  her  thoughts  which 
looked  down  upon  it  all  from  a  lofty  height 
of  their  own.  This  was  the  real  trial  spec- 
ially laid  upon  her. 

He  went  farther,  and  charged  Manna  not 
to  come  to  him  again  for  a  long  time ;  she 
was  to  remain  away  for  weeks  and  months, 
that  she  might  gain  strength  within  herself; 
she  was  to  be  fettered  by  no  external  bond, 
not  even  that  of  making  stated  visits  to  him, 
but  all  was  to  depend  on  her  own  free, 
steadfast,  independent  will ;  leaning  upon 
herself,  with  no  outward  support,  she  was 
to  conquer  all  temptations. 

Manna  asked  hesitatingly,  why  the  Priest 
had  not  taken  upon  himself  the  wide-ex- 
tending benevolent  work,  which  the  Profes- 
sorin was  now  commissioned  by  her  father 
to  carry  on. 

"Why?"  exclaimed  the  Priest,  with  a 
flash  in  his  usually  quiet  eye.  "  We  cannot 
take  what  is  not  given  to  us ;  they  must 
learn  that  this  so-called  benevolence,  with- 
out the  blessing  of  the  Church,  becomes 
absolutely  null,  and  I  command  you  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  for  you  cannot  enter 
into  such  a  fellowship.'" 

Manna  was  much  startled  when  the  Priest 
told  her  that  he  did  not  consider  her  fitted 
to  take  the  veil,  that  it  would  be  better  for 
her  to  be  Pranken's  wife. 

The  color  mounted  to  Manna's  face,  and 
she  moved  her  hands  as  if  warding  off  a 
blow ;  she  opened  her  mouth,  but  could  not 
utter  a  word. 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  Priest,  soothingly, 
"  it  is  well  if  you  can  conquer  this^too,  but 
we  do  not  call  you,  we  do  not  beguile  you ; 
you  must  come  at  your  own  call,  and  follow 
your  own  leading.  People  will  whisper  to 
you,  The  parsons,  for  so  they  call  us, 
have  misled  you  with  most  cunning  wiles. 
You  must  remember,  the  sun  shining  down 
upon  us  bears  witness  that  I  have  urged  you 
not  to  renounce  the  world  entirely.  If  you 
cannot  do  otherwise,  if  you  feel  an  impera- 
tive call,  then  you  will  be  welcome  to  us ; 
not  otherwise,  not  even  with  all  your 
wealth." 

The  Priest  had  arisen,  and  was  walking 


up  and  down  the  room  with  hasty  strides. 
A  long  pause  ensued  ;  he  stood  at  the  win- 
dow, looking  out,  while  Manna  sat  trembling 
on  the  sofa.  The  Priest  turned  towards 
her,  saying,  — 

"  You  see  what  esteem  we  feel  for  you, 
when  we  leave  all  to  your  own  strength, 
the  strength  of  faith  and  of  renunciation 
within  you  ;  hold  firmly  to  that,  and  let  us 
speak  freely  and  calmly  to  each  other.  Do 
you  not  think  this  Herr  Dournay  a  most  at- 
tractive man?  Speak  to  me  as  openly  and 
sincerely  as  you  would  to  yourself." 

"  I  don't  yet  know  what  to  think.  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  that  there  is  something 
in  him  which  might  make  him  a  noble  in- 
strument of  the  Holy  Spirit." 

"  Ah!  is  that  your  feeling?  Thank  you 
for  being  so  honest  and  unreserved.  That 
is  the  wonderful  art  of  the  tempter,  that  he 
can  assume  the  purest  form  ;  with  a  pretence 
of  duty  and  the  hope  of  Conversion  he  can  so 
tempt  the  poor  child  of  humanity,  that  it 
does  not  notice  that  it  has  already  fallen 
into  evil.  This  then  is  the  shape  he  takes 
for  you  ?  I  advise  you,  yes,  I  require  it  of 
you,  I  command  you,  to  attempt  to  change 
this  false  coin  into  true  metal.  Try  it,  it  is 
your  duty;  and  if  you  succeed,  you  are 
greater  than  I  thought,  and  if  you  fail,  you 
are  cured  for  ever.  The  ways  of  Providence 
are  wisev  which  have  brought  this  man  to 
you,  and  planted  the  thought  of  his  conver- 
sion in  your  heart ;  you  are  bound,  for  the 
sake  of  his  salvation  and  your  own,  to  make 
the  attempt  and  to  persevere  in  it.  Look 
out  of  doors  !  it  is  springtime,  everything 
seems  thriving  and  blooming  in  security ; 
but  the  day  will  come  when  the  tempest, 
will  burst  forth,  rending  the  branches  and 
tearing  up  the  roots,  and  so  it  must  be. 
What  is  planted  in  you  must  be  tried  by  the 
storm  of  temptation,  with  all  its  .fine  and 
cunning  wiles  ;  it  must  be  tossed  hither  and 
thither  till  it  is  all  but  uprooted  —  not  till 
then  will  you  be  strong." 

Again  the  Priest  strode  up  and  down  with 
heavy  steps.  Manna  knew  not  what  to  say, 
nor  how  she  was  to  leave  this  room,  and  go 
back  again  into  the  sight  of  men  who  were 
to  be  to  her  as  shadows,  as  forms  assumed 
by  the  tempter. 

The  Priest  turned  towards  her,  and  said 
gently,  — 

"  Now  go,  go,  my  daughter.  And  God 
be  with  thee." 

He  gave  her  his  blessing,  and  Manna 
went.  With  a  conflict  in  her  heart,  strain- 
ing her  powers  to  look  at  life  as  a  spectacle, 
as  a  temptation  which  she  must  not  avoid, 
she  devoted  herself  to  those  around  her,  and 
no  one  suspected  why  she  was  so  cheerful 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


341 


and  ready  to  be  induced  to  take  part  ini 
every  kind  of  merriment. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
ANOTHER  SPIRE  BUILT. 

The  Mother  was  the  only  one  who  sus- 
pected that  any  change  was  going  on  in 
Eric ;  he  became  peculiarly  reserved,  even 
shy.  Instead  of  his  former  communicative- 
ness, he  was  now  very  careful  of  what  he 
said,  especially  in  Manna's  presence,  as  if 
he  felt  himself  near  one  whose  serenity  must 
not  be  troubled. 

But  this  change  in  Eric's  demeanor  soon 
attracted  the  notice  of  another  observer  who 
kept  a  keener  watch.  Bella  came  to  call 
upon  her  future  sister-in-law.  She  was 
very  confidential  towards  Manna ;  she  had  | 
the  habit  of  putting  her  arm  round  the  waist 
of  girls  whom  she  liked,  and  towards  whom 
she  desired  to  be  gracious,  and  promenad- 
ing with  them  in  this  affectionate  way ;  but 
whenever  she  attempted  this  with  Manna, 
the  latter  always  made  a  movement  as  if  she 
would  shake  her  off,  and  finally  told  her,  in 
so  many  words,  that  she  disliked  it.  Bella 
smiled,  but  she  was  inwardly  vexed.  In 
this  house,  in  this  garden,  she  must  en- 
counter such  rebuffs  as  she  had  never  be- 
lieved possible.  But  outwardly  there  was 
no  trace  that  her  feelings  were  hurt,  al- 
though it  required  her  utmost  exertion  to 
remain  composed. 

With  an  easy  turn  of  the  conversation, 
she  asked  Eric  if  he  now  had  another  pupil. 

Eric  answered  her  in  the  same  light  tone, 
that  Manna  had  already  completed  her  ed- 
ucation. 

Bella  nodded  pleasantly. 

The  formal  visit  to  Manna  was  now  over ; 
and  when  she  excused  herself  for  not  re- 
turning it,  saying  that  it  was  her  purpose  to 
visit  nowhere,  Bella  made  a  friendly  call 
upon  the  Mother  and  the  Aunt.  She  went 
back  to  Wolfsgarten  with  the  resolution  to 
give,  hereafter,  the  go-by  to  this  house  and 
all  its  inmates.  Otto  wanted  to  marry  a  wife 
from  it,  and  that  was  his  affair ;  but  she  be- 
lieved that  she  ought  to'call  his  attention  to 
the  fact,  that  in  the  mutual  reserve  of  Man- 
na and  Erie  there  was  the  germ  of  a  deeper 
feeling.  Pranken  replied  with  a  spice  of 
maliciousness,  that  the  family  tutor  was  not 
half  so  dangerous  as  he  appeared  to  his 
sister,  especially  not  to  one  whose  char- 
acter was  grounded  in  religious  conviction. 

Pranken  made  frequent  visits  to  Villa, 
Eden,  and  always  enlivened  its  inmates.  But 
it  did  not  escape  Manna's  penetrating  obser- 
vation, thafr  he  was  an  artisan,  but  not  an 
artist ;  he  displayed  much  clever  ingenuity, 


I  but  had  no  productive  genius,  and  was  un- 
stable and  impulsive.  This  was  especially 
noticeable  when  Eric  was  present. 

Pranken  was  never  at  a  loss  in  uttering 
some  pointed  remark,  but  he  could  not 
carry  on  a  discussion ;  novel  propositions 
bewildered  him,  and  he  had  no  pertinent 
observations  to  bring  forward,  whilst  Eric 
became  more  inspirited  and  more  original 
by  the  presentation  of  opposing  thoughts 
and  new  statements. 

Eric  was  always  the  same  from  morning 
to  night,  while  Pranken  was  a  different  be- 
ing in  the  evening  from  what  he  was  in  the 
morning.  In  the  morning  he  was  obliged 
to  rouse  himself;  he  was  tired,  heavy,  low- 
spirited  ;  at  evening  he  was  lively,  dashing, 
and  full  of  energy.  He  often  seemed  lan- 
guid and  spiritless  ;  and  being  aware  of  this, 
he  was  stimulated  to  exertion.  There  was 
always  an  element  of  disquiet  in  intercourse 
with  him,  and  under  an  appearance  of 
friendliness  there  was  almost  always  a  la- 
tent bitter  hostility.  He  thought  now,  too, 
that  he  could  discover  an  understanding  be- 
tween Eric  and  Manna. 

Both  Manna  and  Eric  thought  more  of 
the  universal,  of  the  purely  ideal,  than  they 
did  of  the  personal ;  in  her,  this  proceeded 
from  the  religious,  and  in  him,  from  the 
philosophical  element.  In  the  beginning, 
Manna  had  held  herself  aloof  from  him  with 
a  sort  of  defiance,  even  with  a  positive  an- 
tagonism ;  but  gradually  she  came  to  per- 
ceive the  inviolable  truthfulness  of  his  whole 
being.  When  Pranken  was  engaged  in  ar- 
gument, he  asserted  what  he  had  to  say  as 
if  it  were  incontrovertible  ;  while  Eric,  on 
the  other  hand,  often  replied  :  — 

"  I  should  like  to  be  allowed  first  to  state 
the  question  ;  for  the  best  thing  we  can  do 
in  order  to  arrive  at  some  actual  result,  is, 
to  state  the  question  sharply  and  definitely." 
"  And,"  he  added,  laughing,  "  the  old  phil- 
osopher, Epictetus,  has  designated  '  asking 
the  right  questions  and  exercising  forbear- 
ance '  as  the  very  essence  of  philosophy." 

"  Who  is  Epictetus  ?  "  Manna  would  ask  ; 
and  while  Eric  briefly  gave  an  account  of 
the  life  of  this  stoic,  a  slave,  who  had  be- 
come a  philosopher  and  taught  after  the 
manner  of  Socrates,  adding  some  reflections 
of  his  own,  Manna  was  alarmed  to  see  how 
fully  she  agreed  with  him ;  her  gods  were 
different,  but  their  devotional  spirit  was  the 
same. 

Pranken  was  jealous  when  he  saw  Manna 
deeply  interested  in  Eric's  expositions,  and 
often  tried  to  make  him  expose  his  heretical 
sentiments,  so  that  he  might  become  abhor- 
rent to  Manna. 

There  was  frequently  a  sort  of  tourna- 


342 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ment  in  which  they  took  part,  and  Manna 
sat,  as  it  were,  upon  a  dais  to  crown  the 
victor.  In  such  a  state  of  feeling,  it  easily 
happens  that  insignificant  circumstances  be- 
come the  starting  point  of  a  life  and  death 
contest.  And  this  was  the  case  one  day, 
when  Pranken  related  in  a  merry  way  that 
to-day  was  a  bona  fide  pilgrimage  of  the 
whole  country  to  the  railroad  station,  for 
they  were  expecting,  by  the  evening  train, 
the  list  of  those  who  had  drawn  prizes  in 
the  Cathedral  lottery ;  and  all  the  poor 
people,  the  servants,  male  and  female,  the 
vine-dressers,  the  quarry  men,  and  the  boat- 
men, were  each  one  of  them  hoping  to  get 
the  first  prize.  Manna  had  it  on  her  lips 
to  say  that  she  had  given  money  to  Claus 
in  order  to  redeem  his  ticket,  but,  before 
she  could  do  it,  Eric,  unable  to  restrain 
himself,  cried  out :  — ■ 

"  This  lottery  is  an  atrocity,  a  disgrace 
to  our  age." 

"  What's  that  ?    What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  was  hasty,"  said 
Eric,  trying  to  divert  the  subject. 

But  Manna  asked  :  — 

"  May  we  not  know  what  your  objection 
is?" 

"I  would  rather  not  state  it." 

Manna's  face  flushed.  This  man,  she 
thought,  is  also  a  heretic  in  regard  to  social 
institutions !  But  she  quickly  composed 
herself,  and  continued  quietly  :  — 

It  ought  not  to  be  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence to  you  to  be  regarded  as  open  to  the 
charge  of  being  unjust." 

"  Herr  Captain,"  Pranken  said,  coming 
to  her  help,  "would  you  favor  us  so  far 
as  to  give  us  your  view  ?  It  would  be  very 
kind  of  you  if  you  would  instruct  us,  and 
give  us  at  length  your  objections."  Then 
turning  to  Manna,  he  said  in  a  low  tone :  — 

"  Take  notice,  this  will  be  the  order  of 
his  discourse.  First,  he  declines  to  speak, 
like  a  singer  who  is  urged  to  sing  in  com- 
pany ;  then  he  asks  pardon  for  his  novel 
views  ;  next  comes  a  condescending  defini- 
tion ;  after  that  a  citation  from  Professor 
Hamlet,  to  be  succeeded  by  a  moral  burst 
of  indignation,  and  every  one  who  thinks 
otherwise  is  an  idiot  or  a  knave  ;  and  finally, 
when  you  think  now  is  the  grand  finale,  he 
adds  something  else,  and  winds  up  with  a 
trill." 

Erie  perceived  that  he  was  to  be  irritated 
and  goaded  on,  but  he  had  self-control 
enough  to  say  to  himself:  I  will  not  be 
driven  over  the  barriers.  With  quiet  de- 
liberation he  proceeded  to  say  : — 

"  First  of  all,  I  beg  you  would  remem- 
ber that  Catholic  as  well  as  Protestant 


cathedrals  are  to  be  completed  by  this 
horrible  and  no  longer  unusual  means." 

"  And. why  so  horrible  ?  "  asked  Manna, 

'_'Yes,  go  on,  go  on!"  urged  Pranken, 
as  if  he  were  flourishing  his  horse-whip. 

"Allow  me  to  take  more  time,"  answered 
Eric  ;  "I  must  take  a  longer  spring." 

"  Proceed  !  proceed  !  "  said  Pranken 
sharply,  twirling  the  ends  of  his  moustache. 

"The  largest  cathedrals,"  Eric  began 
by  saying,  "are  unfinished;  quiet  in  the 
lap  of  earth  rest  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sand hands  which  devotion  once  moved  to 
dig  the  stone,  to  raise,  and  lay,  and  chisel 
them.  Careless  and  thoughtless  enough, 
undoubtedly,  were  the  workmen,  but  they 
were  set  in  motion  by  devout  feeling,  the 
feeling  of  those  who  poured  out  the  money, 
and  those  who  superintended  the  work,  de- 
siring to  build  a  house  of  God.  But  listen 
to  the  cry  now  :  You  servant-man,  you  ser- 
vant-girl, you  journeyman,  come  here ! 
here's  a  lottery  ticket  —  only  one  dollar  to 
pay  —  you  can  make  so  much  by  it,  and 
help  build  a  church  besides  !  How  can  the 
holy  Word  be  devoutly  proclaimed  in  a 
building  erected  by  an  appeal  to  the  covet- 
ousness  of  men?  You  smile.  You  think, 
perhaps,  that  it  does  no  harm  to  the  servant- 
man  and  servant-girl  to  lose  the  dollar;  but 
I  ask  if  it's  no  harm  to  their  souls  to  be 
hoping  for  prizes  in  the  lottery  ?  And  sup- 
pose a  schedule  of  the  lottery  were  laid  in 
the  corner-stone  of  the  new  building.  Fu- 
ture generations  would  have  harder  work 
to  decipher  these  figures,  than  we  with  the 
remains  of  the  lake-dwellers.  What  sort 
of  a  race  was  this,  they  would  say,  which 
built  a  church  with  the  profits  of  a  lottery  ? 
Tetzel's  hawking  of  indulgences  was  far  less 
objectionable,  for  then  they  paid  money  for 
the  pardon  of  their  sins  ;  the  motive  was  a 
moral  one,  however  much  they  may  have 
been  in  error.    But  here  " 

"  I  had  thought,"  Sonnenkamp  interrupt- 
ed, "  that  you  considered  beauty,  the  com- 
pletion of  the  beautiful  structure,  as  a  suf- 
ficiently moral  motive,  just  as  any  pagan 
would." 

"  I  thank  you  for  this  suggestion,  for  it 
brings  me  to  the  point,  to  state  it  briefly, 
that  it  is  a  contradiction  to  make  use  of 
unholy  means  for  a  holy  end,  and  nothing 
incongruous  is  truly  beautiful." 

Sonnenkamp  was  exceedingly  charmed 
with  this  exposition,  but  Pranken,  who  saw 
that  his  prpphecy  in  regard  to  the  way  in 
which  Eric  would  proceed  was  altogether 
falsified,  held  his  moustache  thoughtfully 
between  his  fingers,  and  contracted  his 
brows.    He  was  stirred  up,  and  doubly  so, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


343 


when  be  saw  that  Manna  looked  very  atten- 
tive and  serious.  He  would  have  been  be- 
side himself  if  he  could  have  imagined 
what  were  her  thoughts. 

This  heretic,  Eric,  would  not  have  been 
able  to  reach  a  single  dogma  of  her  belief, 
with  all  his  philosophy,  for  this  was  no  lever 
with  which  to  move  the  solid  rock  ;  but  in 
this  assault  upon  an  apparently  incidental 
matter,  her  confidence  was  shaken  in  the 
perfect  moral  beauty  of  the  measures  of  those 
who  were  the  representatives  of  the  Spirit 
in  the  world.  Everything '  which  concerned 
religion  was  in  her  view  fixed  and  unalter- 
able, and  just  this  thing  troubled  Manna, 
this  insignificant  trifle,  that  their  object  was 
money.  She  despised  money,  she  regarded 
it  as  a  dangerous  enemy,  and  "  money  — 
money !  "  echoed  and  re-echoed  within  her. 
"  Is  gold  the  temptation  ?  " 

Pranken  hastily  summoned  up  his  ener- 
gies to  say  : — 

"It  strikes  me  as  inconsiderate  or  im- 
modest —  excuse  me  if  I  do  not  use  just  the 
right  word  —  I  mean,  he  who  is  an  unbe- 
liever should  not  attack  another's  belief.11 

"  Should  we  not  ?  11  replied  Eric.    "  And 
still  we  are  attacked.    Humility  is  a  virtue. 
Very  true  ;  and  it  is  the  virtue  of  a  state  of  . 
siege.    We  still  stammer  at  the  word  of 
salvation.    But  is  the  child  who  cannot  yet  i 
speak,  'on  that  account  not  to  make  known  i 
his  wishes  by  cries  ?    Lofty  and  noble  to 
us  is  the  religion  of  love,  but  love  cannot  ! 
be  commanded,  love  is  the  genius  of  the  I 
heart ;  on  the  other  hand,  kindness,  regard,  < 
active  help  can  be  commanded  and  guided ;  I 
love,  never.    The  great  command,  Love  ' 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself,  has  become  hypoc-  ' 
risy ;  it  is  said,  I  love  my  neighbor,  but  I 
have  nothing  to  do  for  him.    Our  doctrine  1 
says,  Help  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  Love 
is  a  sort  of  musical  susceptibility  which  can 
be  counterfeited,  but  lielp  cannot  be.  There-  : 
fore  we  apply  more  broadly  the  command, 
and    say,   Help  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,  i 
And  you  must  do  it  yourself;  for  we  stand  ■ 
upon  the  fundamental  principle  that  there  < 
is  no  substitution  in  the  realm  of  moral  ac- 
tivity, and  here   it  is  the  primal  law  that  j 
every  one  shall  do  guard-duty  for  him-  ] 
self.11  ] 

"  YouVe  said  that  once  before,11  Pranken  - 
interposed. 

"True,  and  I  shall  often  repeat  it.    I  i 
think  that  we  have  as  good  a  right  as  our  : 
opponents,  who  are  not  always  uttering 
some  new  truth.    The  sunlight  of  to-day  is  i 
like  that  of  yesterday  11 

Here  Roland  burst  in  breathless,  crying : 
"  Eric,  you  must  come  at  once,  the  field- 
guard  is  here  ;  he  is  like  a  crazy  man,  and 


■  he  says  that  you  only  can  decide,  and  you 

■  alone  shall  decide.11 
L      "  What  has  happened  ?  11 

"  Sevenpiper  has  drawn  the  grand  prize, 
i  and  Claus  says  that  the  money  belongs-  to 
him.    Come,  he's  like  one  raving  mad.11 
Eric  went  down  to  the  courtyard. 
There  sat  Claus  upon  a  dog-kennel,  and 
looked  dolefully  up  at  Eric  and  Roland. 
He  spoke  so  thick  and  confusedly,  that  they 
could  not  make  out  distinctly  what  he  meant ; 
this  only  was  plain,  that  Sevenpiper  had 
drawn  the  prize,  and  Claus  asserted  that  it 
belonged  to  him. 

Sonnenkamp,  Pranken,  and  Manna  also 
made  their  appearance  on  the  steps,  and 
now  Claus  screamed  out  that  Manna  must 
bear  testimony  to  having  given  him  the 
money  for  the  ticket,  and  he  had  simply 
forgotten  to  redeem  it. 

Eric  quieted  Claus,  and  promised  to  go 
with  him  to  Sevenpiper.  He  asked  permis- 
sion of  Sonnenkamp  to  have  the  horses  har- 
nessed. Roland  was  urgent  to  accompany 
him.  Claus  took  a  seat  with  the  coachman 
on  the  box,  and  so  they  drove  to  the  village 
to  Sevenpiper's  house. 

They  met  the  cooper  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  he  told  Eric  that  Sevenpiper  had  just 
turned  him  out  of  it.  He  said  that  he  was 
in  love  with  Sevenpiper's  oldest  daughter, 
and  that  this  attachment  had  met  the  appro- 
val of  the  parents  on  both  sides ;  but  now 
Sevenpiper  had  shown  him  the  door,  saying 
that  he  could  obtain  a  better  match  for  his 
daughter,  and  that  most  assuredly  he  would 
not  marry  her  to  the  son  of  Claus,  who 
wanted  to  claim  his  property  before  the 
world. 

"  Is^  true,  father,  that  the  prize  belonged 
to  you  ?  11 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  and  it  belongs  to  me  still." 
"So!  Now  I  understand  all  about  it," 
said  the  cooper,  taking  his  departure. 

In  the  house  of  Sevenpiper  the  new- 
comers found  everything  in  confusion ;  the 
oldest  daughter  was  weeping,  and  the  other 
children  were  running  over  one  another. 

They  became  quieted  at  last,  and  Seven- 
piper said  that  he  was  not  going  to  allow 
himself  to  be  driven  out  of  his  wits  ;  anyhow 
he  would  no  longer  be  a  day-laborer  in  the 
vineyard ;  he  would  just  do  nothing  for  a 
year,  and  then  he  would  see  what  he  would 
take  hold  of.  The  children  screamed  and 
shouted  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  and  Sevenpiper 
tried  to  make  them  sing,  but  not  one  of 
them  was  willing  ;  all  that  was  past  and  gone 
forever. 

Eric  bad  induced  Claus  to  wait  outside 
the  house  ;  he  now  told  them  what  the  field- 
guard  wanted. 


344 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


As  soon  as  he  made  known  this  desire, 
Sevenpiper  raised  the  window  and  cried 
out  to  his  former  comrade  standing  in  the 
road :  — 

"  If  you  don't  clear  out  from  here,  and  if 
you  claim  a  single  red  cent  from  me,  I'll 
break  every  bone  in  your  carcass.  Now 
you  know  what  to  expect !    .Off  with  you  !  11 

No  appeal  was  of  any  use ;  Sevenpiper 
insisted  upon  it,  that  he  would  not  give 
Claus  as  much  as  he  could  put  into  his  eye. 

Roland  and  Eric  went  away  exceedingly 
cast  down.  They  came  to  the  house  of 
Claus,  who  was  asleep  on  the  bench.  His 
wife  lamented  that  he  had  come  home  very 
drunk,  and  that  the  cooper  was  half-crazed. 

Neither  could  Eric  and  Roland  be  of  any 
assistance  here. 

On  the  way  home,  Roland  seized  Eric's 
hand  and  said  :  — 

' '  Money  !  money  !  How  speedily  it  can 
ruin  people  ! 11 

Eric  made  no  reply,  and  Roland  contin- 
ued :  —  "I  never  heard  that  there  were  any 
lotteries  in  America.  You  see,  Eric,  this 
is  something  that  we  have  wholly  to  our- 
selves." 

In  silence,  inwardly  disturbed,  they 
reached  the  villa.  There  seemed  to  be 
some  ghost  stalking  abroad,  for  they  could 
not  shake  off  the  remembrance  that  the  de- 
mon of  sudden  riches  had  ruined  two  fami- 
lies ;  and  immediately  on  waking  the  next 
morning,  Roland  said  :  — 

"  I  should  like  to  know  how  Claus  and 
Sevenpiper  will  feel  this  morning,  when 
they  wake  up." 

A  messenger  was  sent  to  the  village,  and 
they  were  gratified  to  hear  that  the  two 
families  were  getting  along  comfortably 
again ;  but  the  eldest  daughter  of  Seven- 
piper had  left  her  parents1  house,  and  had 
gone  to  the  field-guard's. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
THE  FIRST  RIDE. 

Manna  was  extremely  gracious  towards 
everybody,  and  no  one  would  have  suspected 
that  this  graciousness  had  pride  for  its  basis. 
Every  one  appeared  to  her  so  poor,  so  for- 
lorn, so  trammelled  !  Whenever  she  was  spok- 
en to,  her  thought  of  the  speaker  was,  "  You, 
who  say  this,  are  but  a  child  of  the  world ;  " 
and  whenever  she  took  part  in  any  pleasure 
excursion,  there  was  the  perpetually  recur- 
ring suggestion,  "  You  yourself  are  not  here, 
you  only  seem  to  be  here,  you  are  in  a 
wholly  different  world,  yonder,  far  above." 

Every  one  was  charmed  with  her  friend- 
liness, her  gentleness,  her  attentive  listen- 
ing, and  yet  only  a  part  of  herself  was  really 


taken  up  with  all  this ;  she  was  elsewhere, 
and  occupied  with  other  interests. 

No  one  ventured  to  exert  any  influence 
over  her ;  but  the  Doctor  agreed  with  Pran- 
ken and  her  father,  that  she  must  again  ride 
on  horseback. 

A  new  world  seemed  to  be  disclosed ;  in- 
side the  house,  there  was  singing,  dancing, 
playing,  and  outside,  too,  all  went  merry  as 
a  marriage-bell.  Manna  took  pleasant 
rides  on  horseback  with  Pranken,  Eric,  and 
Roland  in  the  country  round.  Sonnenkamp 
also,  mounted  on  his  great  black  horse,  fre- 
quently joined  the  party.  Their  ride  was 
full  of  enjoyment,  and  they  received  on  all 
sides  marks  of  respect,  not  only  from  those 
who  had  been  the  recipients  of  benefits 
through  the  Professorin  and  Fräulein  Milch, 
but  also  from  those  who  were  well  off  and  in- 
dependent in  their  circumstances.  Wher- 
ever they  alighted,  and  wherever  they  reined 
up,  there  was  always  some  fresh  proof  of 
the  pride  which  the  whole  region  felt  in  such 
a  man  as  Sonnenkamp. 

One  day,  Manna,  Pranken,  and  Roland, 
Eric  and  Sonnenkamp,  were  riding  along  the 
road  bordered  with  nut-trees. 

"Herr  Dournay  is  right,"  exclaimed 
Manna,  who  was  riding  in  advance  with 
Pranken  and  her  father. 

Manna  said  that  Eric  had  made  the  re- 
mark, that  nut-trees  were  much  more  beau- 
tiful, and  that  it  was  a  stupid  and  prosaic 
innovation  to  set  out  lindens  and  other  com- 
mon trees  along  the  roads  ;  that  the  nut-tree 
belonged  to  the  Rhine,  was  beautiful  and 
productive,  and  at  least  gave  to  the  irre- 
pressible boys  a  fine  harvest  time. 

As  she  rode  along  she  tore  off  a  leaf  of 
a  nut-tree. 

For  some  time  her  voice  had  been  differ- 
ent; it  was  no  longeras  if  veiled  with  tears. 
Turning  to  her  father,  she  continued :  — 

"You  can  bring  this  about.  Set  out  a 
nursery  of  nut-trees,  and  give  to  all  the 
villages  round  as  many  nurslings  as  they 
can  make  use  of." 

Sonnenkamp  promised  to  carry  out  the 
idea,  and  unfolded  a  plan  which  he  had 
much  at  heart,  of  establishing  general  be- 
nevolent institutions,  the  first  of  which 
should  be  a  fund  for  the  widows  and  orphans 
of  boatmen. 

Manna  stroked  her  beautiful  white  pony, 
to  which  she  had  given  the  name  Snow- 
drop. 

Pranken  was  happy  that  the  horse  proved 
itself  worthy  of  its  mistress,  and  voluntarily 
extending  her  hand,  she  thanked  him  for 
his  care. 

"  Now  trot,  Snow-drop  !  "  she  cried, 
chirruping ;  and  with  Pranken  on  one  side, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


345 


and  her  father  on  the  other,  she  rode  boldly, 
rising  in  the  saddle. 

They  now  came  in  sight  of  an  advancing 
procession.  .  Manna  reined  in  so  suddenly 
that  she  would  have  been  thrown  over  her 
horse's  head,  had  not  Sonnenkamp  held  her 
by  her  riding-habit.  They  dismounted,  and 
Roland  and  Eric  were  also  obliged  to  dis- 
mount. The  grooms  led  the  horses,  and 
Manna  walked  with  the  procession.  Hold- 
ing up  her  long  riding-dress,  not  proudly, 
but  humbly,  she  sang  aloud  with  the  pil- 
grims, and  Pranken  also.    Eric  was  silent. 

At  a  chapel  by  the  way-side  Manna  knelt 
down,  and  Pranken  also  knelt  by  her  side. 
When  she  arose,  she  was  amazed  to  see 
that  the  rest  had  gone,  leaving  Pranken 
and  her  together.  They  were  waiting  in  a 
pathway  through  the  field,  not  far  off,  with 
the  grooms  who  were  holding  the  horses. 
The  procession  moved  on,  and  Pranken 
and  Manna  were  left  alone.  The  murmur 
of  the  pilgrims  was  heard  in  the  distance. 
Pranken  held  his  hands  folded  together, 
and  looked  at  Manna  as  if  praying. 

"  Manna,11  he  began,  he  had  never  called 
her  Manna  before.  "Manna,  such  is  to 
be  our  life !  We  acknowledge  the  grace 
of  heaven,  that  we,  possessed  of  wealth  and 
inheriting  noble  names,  can  occupy  a  lofty 
position,  but  are  ready  every  moment  to 
unite  ourselves  with  our  brothers  and  sisters 
who  walk  the  holy  paths  in  coarse  shoes 
and  barefoot,  and  to  put  ourselves  on  a 
level  with  them.  Manna,  thus  will  we 
live  !  " 

He  took  her  hand,  which  she  allowed  him 
to  hold  an  instant,  and  then  drew  it  away. 
He  continued :  — 

"  I  have  never  yet  told  you  that  I  too 
have  wrestled  with  the  holy  resolution  to 
renounce  the  world,  and  to  assume  the 
priestly  vow.  You  also,  elevated  and  pious, 
have  struggled,  and  have  returned  to  the 
world.  I  place  my  heart,  my  soul,  my 
soul's  salvation  in  your  hand.  Here,  on 
this  consecrated  spot,  come  with  me  into 
the  chapel."  He  seized  her  hand,  and  at 
the  same  moment,  Eric  cried :  — 

"Fräulein  Manna! 11 

"What's  the  matter?  What  do  you 
want  ? 11  exclaimed  Pranken. 

"  Fräulein  Manna,  your  father  wants  me 
to  tell  you  that  yonder  is  a  boundary-stone 
convenient  for  you  to  mount  your  horse." 

"  I  shall  not  ride  again,  I  shall  walk  back 
to  the  house,"  replied  Manna  ;  and  turning 
round,  whether  she  knew  that  Pranken 
was  not  following  her,  or  did  not  know  it, 
she  went  on  with  Eric.  After,  they  had 
gone  some  distance,  turning  round  she  saw 
Pranken  still  standing  motionless  in  the 


place,  and  she  called  to  him  to  come  with 
them. 

In  spite  of  all  urging,  she  would  not 
mount  her  horse,  but  walked  the  whole  dis- 
tance in  her  heavy  riding-dress. 

She  said  nothing.;  there  was  a  strange 
look  of  defiance  in  her  countenance. 

She  locked  herself  in  her  room,  and  wept 
and  prayed  for  a  long  time. 

The  struggle  had  come  sooner  than  she 
thought,  and  she  seemed  to  herself  all  un- 
armed. Pranken  had  a  right  to  address  her 
in  that  way.  And  would  it  not  be  better 
that  she  should  enter  into  life  ?  At  this 
thought  she  looked  around,  as  if  she  must 
ask  Eric  what  he  thought  of  this  conclusion, 
what  opinion  he  would  form  of  this  fickle- 
ness. Again  she  looked  around,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  Eric  had  come  into  the 
room  with  her,  and  still  she  was  alone. 

It  was  a  severe  conflict,  and  only  this  one 
point  was  gained,  that  she  would  no  longer 
allow  herself  to  be  robbed  of  herself  by  such 
distractions. 

A  boat-sail  upon  the  Rhine  had  been  ap- 
pointed for  the  evening.  Manna,  who  had 
promised  to  go,  now  positively  declined. 
She  stood  at  the  window  of  her  silent  cham- 
ber without  opening  it,  and  she  wished  that 
it  was  grated.  She  saw  the  gentlemen  and 
the  ladies  go  down  to  the  river,  and  heard 
Lina  singing  a  beautiful  song  accompanied 
bv  a  fine  manly  voice. 
'  Who  is  that  ? 

It  is  not  Pranken,  nor  Roland ;  it  can  be 
no  other  than  Eric. 

On  the  boat,  Lina  requested  Eric  to  sing 
the  "  Harper's  Song,"  set  to  music  by  Schu- 
bert. Eric  considered  it  entirely  inappro- 
priate to  sing  aloud  here,  in  a  joyous  com- 
pany upon  the  Rhine,  the  plaint  of  a  sorely 
burdened  soul  breathed  out  to  the  lonely 
night. 

But  Lina  persisted,  and  Eric  sang,  — 

"  He  that  with  tears  did  never  eat  his  bread." 

The  rowers  stopped  rowing,  and  Eric's 
voice  thrilled  the  inmost  soul.  He  paused, 
and  then  sang  the  words,  — 

"  Ye  lead  us  onward  into  life.    Ye  leave 

The  wretch  to  fall ;  then  yield  him  up,  in 
woe, 

Remorse,  and  pain,  unceasingly  to  grieve; 
For  every  sin  is  punished  here  below." 

Schubert's  air  closes  without  any  musical 
cadence,  just  as  Goethe's  words  give  no 
final  solution.  The  strain,  "For  every  sin 
is  punished  here  below,"  filled  the  air  as 
the  boat  glided  past  the  vilia.  Manna 
heard  the  words,  sank  down,  and  covered 
her  face  with  both  hands. 


346 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and  then 
some  one  knocked  at  the  door.  Manna 
waked  from  the  sleep  into  which  she  had 
fallen  in  the  midst  of  her  anguish.  It  was 
quite  dark,  Roland  and  Lina  were  calling 
her  name.  Overcome  by  weariness  of 
body  and  soul,  Manna  had  not  been  able  to 
keep  from  falling  asleep,  and  now  she 
joined  the  rest  of  the  family,  as  if  in  a 
dream.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  it  were 
morning,  and  yet  it  was  night.  She  had  a 
feeling  of  oppression  in  the  society  of  those 
around  her,  all  of  whom  looked  upon  her 
with  loving  eyes. 

In  order,  as  it  were,  to  recover  self-pos- 
session, she  proposed  another  sail  upon  the 
Rhine  by  moonlight,  and  she  asked  Lina  to 
sing; 

Lina  rejoined  that  she  could  not  sing  so 
beautifully  as  Eric,  and  that  he  ought  to  sing. 

"  Do  sing,'1  Manna  said  to  him.  "  I  can- 
not sing  now,"  Eric  replied. 

The  first  request  she  had  ever  made  of 
him  he  positively  refused  to  grant.  Manna 
was  vexed  at  first,  and  then  she  was  glad 
of  this  lack  of  friendliness.  It  is  better 
thus ;  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should 
interest  you  in  any  way ;  you  must  again 
take  the  proper  position  in  regard  to  him. 
And  in  order  to  show  that  she  did  not  feel 
hurt  by  the  refusal,  she  was  more  animated 
than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

When  they  returned  from  the  excursion, 
Sonnenkamp  met  them  as  they  were  getting 
out  of  the  boat,  and  told  them  that  Seven- 
piper  had  informed  him,  lest  they  should  be 
taken  by  surprise,  or  be  away —  but  no  one 
was  to  know  anything  about  it  —  that  he  was 
to  be  waited  upon  by  the  boatmen  to-morrow 
evening,  to  thank  him  for  the  benevolent 
institution  he  had  established. 

CHArTER  VIII. 
THOU  SHALT  LAUGH,  DANCE,  AND  DRINK. 

"A  house  without  a  daughter  is  like  a 
meadow  without  flowers,11  said  the  Major, 
who  was  watching,  with  Sonnenkamp  and 
the  Professorin,  the  young  people  playing 
graces  in  the  lawn  between  the  villa  and 
the  green  cottage. 

Lina  had  induced  Manna  to  be  present, 
and  she  was  there  in  a  bright  summer  suit. 
And  Lina,  together  with  the  maid,  had  pre- 
vailed upon  Manna  to  wear  a  deep  red  vel- 
vet ribbon  in  her  black  hair,  and  that  her 
rich  dark  hair  should  be  shown  to  the  best 
advantage. 

The  young  people  formed  a  large  circle, 
sending  differently  colored  hoops  swiftly 
through  the  air,  and  catching  them  upon  the 
pretty  sticks. 


The  Architect  was  present,  too,  having 
been  invited  at  Manna^  special  request. 
No  one  except  herself  and  Lina  knew  why 
this  had  been  done. 

Roland  had  requested  Eric  to  join  in  the 
play  ;  at  first  he  declined,  but  Lina  cried,  — 

"  Whoever  doesn^t  play  wears  a  wig  and 
is  afraid  of  its  being  found  out.11 

He  made  one  of  the  circle.  Prankec 
gave  him  a  sort  of  military  salute  with  his 
stick,  as  if  it  were  a  sword.  They  laughed 
merrily  as  they  sprang  about  on  the  lawn, 
and  it  was  a  delight  to  the  eye  to  witness 
Roland\s,  and,  still  more,  Manna's  graceful 
movements.  When  she  looked  up  and 
reached  out  an  arm,  with  her  lithe  and 
ethereal  form,  it  appeared  as  if  her  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  something  els°,  than  the 
play ;  as  if  she  were  in  an  ecstasy,  and  were 
expecting  not  a  hoop,  but  some  heavenly 
vision.  Pranken  stood  on  her  right,  and 
Eric  on  her  left;  Pranken  threw  so  skilfully 
that  she  always  caught  the  hoop  from  him, 
while  Eric  sent  it  too  high  or  too  low,  so 
that  she  was  obliged  to  stoop  and  pick  it 
up  from  the  ground.  It  almost  seemed  as 
if  he  did  it  purposely,  for  in  this  movement 
Mannas  grace  was  always  displayed  afresh. 

Roland  and  Lina  made  fun  of  his  clumsy 
play. 

Lina  and  Roland  kept  up  a  constant  run- 
ning fight ;  she  struggled  with  the  boy  as  if 
she  were  a  boy  herself,  and  they  tried  to 
throw  each  other  down  in  the  endeavor  to 
catch  a  hoop  tossed  beyond  the  circle.  But 
Roland  was  not  thrown  down,  and  escaped 
from  all  her  clutches  as  smoothly  as  a 
weasel.  The  Architect  smiled  as  he  looked 
at  Lina^  fawn-colored  gaiter-boots.  As 
Eric  was  leaping  forward  to  catch  a  hoop 
which  Manna  had  thrown  on  one  side,  he 
fell  his  whole  length  on  the  lawn. 

Manna  laughed  outright. 

As  soon  as  Lina  heard  it  she  clapped  her 
hands,  exclaiming,  — 

The  princess  is  set  free!    Manna  has, 
heretofore,  been  the  princess  who  couldi^t 
j  laugh.    Captain,  you've  broken  the  spell ! 
What  name  shall  we  give  to  the  knight  who 
has  set  our  Manna  free  ?  " 

Lina  was  overflowing  with  merriment, 
and  she  might  indeed  take  pride  in  having 
been  the  means  of  enlivening  the  whole 
house,  and,  more  than  all,  Manna. 

Eric  succeeded  in  turning  his  fall  into  a 
joke,  and  he  was  at  a  loss,  when  he  looked 
at  his  mother,  to  know  why  she  shook  her 
head  so  strangely.  He  had  entirely  forgot- 
ten how  she  reminded  him  with  pride  dur- 
ing those  sad  days  when  Bella  was  visiting 
the  villa,  that  his  father  had  said  he  had 
never  had  a  fall. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


347 


Manna's  cheeks  had  never  before  glowed 
so  brightly  as  they  did  to-day;  the  spell 
upon  her  seemed  broken  ;  one  deep,  hearty, 
childlike  burst  of  laughter  had  given  her 
new  life.  She  was  sorely  vexed,  but  she 
could  make  no  suitable  response  when  Lina 
said  to  Herr  Sonnenkamp  : — 

"  Your  Highness  !  The  king  was  obliged 
to  give  the  princess  in  marriage  to  the 
knight  who  made  her  laugh,  and  public 
proclamation  was  made  of  it  from  the  tower 
of  the  castle  throughout  all  lands.  Now 
say  what  you  will  give  to  Herr  Dournay." 

"  I  grant  him  a  kiss,"  answered  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

"  Herr  Dournay,  you  are  authorized  to 
kiss  Manna,  her  father  grants  permission,'1 
Lina  called  out  to  the  company. 

They  all  stood  amazed,  and  Sonnenkamp 
cried : — 

,"No,  child,  that  was  not  my  meaning. 
He  can  give  you  a  kiss." 

"  I  don't  need  your  permission  for  that," 
replied  Lina. 

She  was  now  entirely  in  her  element ; 
wherever  there  was  any  fun,  any  teasing, 
she  seemed  a  different  being,  quick,  inven- 
tive, excessively  merry,  full  of  fanciful  sug- 
gestions ;  as  soon,  however,  as  the  conver- 
sation took  a  serious  turn,  she  always  sat 
very  quiet  and  attentive,  but  her  look 
said : — 

"  All  this  is  no  doubt  very  fine,  but  I've 
no  relish  for  it ;  Tve  never  yet  seen  that 
people  were  any  better  off  or  any  merrier 
for  all  their  smart  speeches." 

They  returned  to  the  villa. 

Lina  had  hung  her  hat  upon  a  bush.  The 
Architect  carried  it  to  her,  stroking  the 
brown  ribbons,  and  regarding  fondly  the 
brown  straw  braid,  and  the  artificial  vine- 
leaves,  of  a  brown  autumnal  tint.  He  hand- 
ed the  hat  to  Lina,  and  while  doing  it  they 
pressed  each  other's  hands,  as  the  Architect 
said  that  he  must  go  to  the  castle  again,  in 
order  to  make  some  arrangements  for  the 
next  day.  For  an  instant  only,  Lina  looked 
thoughtfully  after  him,  and  then,  giving  her 
head  a  toss,  she  bounded  up  the  steps  and 
went  into  the  music  saloon.  Placing  her- 
self at  the  piano,  she  played  a  dancing  tune, 
for  the  day  must  be  wound  off  with  a  dance  ; 
the  release  of  the  princess  who  had  not 
been  able  to  laugh  must  be  celebrated  with 
a  dance,  and  Lina  was  so  self-denying  as  to 
be  willing  herself  to  play.  When  Pranken 
now  came  up  to  Manna  and  jestingly  in- 
vited her  to  dance,  Lina  jumped  up  from 
the  piano. 

"No,  that  won't  do!  The  knight  of 
philosophy  gone  to  grass  ;  he  who  freed  the 
princess,  he  must  come  first." 


Lina  would  not  have  it  otherwise.  Man- 
na had  first  to  dance  with  Eric,  and  the 
Aunt  was  obliging  enough  to  play  for  them, 
so  that  Lina  could  dance  too.  With  a  very 
roguish,  saucy  courtesy,  she  challenged 
Herr  von  Pranken,  who  took  her  arm  with- 
out any  hesitation,  and  danced  with  her  be- 
hind Eric  and  Manna. 

"  I  can't  realize  that  I  am  dancing,"  said 
Manna,  as  she  floated  rather  than  danced 
round  the  great  hall. 

"  Nor  can  I,"  replied  Eric. 

Manna  broke  the  pause  which  ensued,  by 
saying : — 

"  Lina  sets  us  all  crazy." 

Pranken  now  came  and  asked  her  to 
dance  ;  she  was  still  somewhat  out  of  breath. 
He  held  her  hand  until  he  began  to  whirl 
with  her  in  the  dance.  Roland  was  delight- 
ed that  Lina  was  free,  and  the  Aunt  must 
still  keep  playing  for  him  to  dance  with 
Lina,  as  he  was  unwilling  to  stop. 

Sonnenkamp  was  quite  happy  as  he  stood 
there  in  the  music-saloon ;  and  he  said  to 
the  Professorin  that  this  was  all  so  pleasant, 
and  he  had  never  thought  that- he  should 
see.  his  children  dancing  in  this  hall.  He 
had  sent  to  Frau  Ceres,  who  would  like  to 
be  a  looker  on,  too.  She  came,  and  Pran- 
ken and  Manna  must  dance  again  in  her 
presence. 

Sonnenkamp  praised  the  happy  sugges- 
tion of  his  wife,  that  she  should  give  a 
grand  ball  in  honor  of  Manna ;  but  Man- 
na decidedly  opposed  this,  and  the  wise 
Lina,  happy  in  her  triumph,  begged  the 
parents  in  a  low  tone  not  to  urge  Manna 
any  further  to-day,  and  she  would  bring 
everything  about  in  good  season. 

After  tea,  Lina  wanted  to  have  another 
dance ;  she  would  like  to  keep  up  all  night, 
and  that  Sonnenkamp  should  telegraph  to 
the  garrison  to  have  the  military  t)and  sent 
by  an  extra  train. 

She  was  to-day  so  full  of  buoyant  spright- 
liness,  and  so  overflowing  with  cheerfulness, 
that  even  Eric,  who  had  heretofore  regard- 
ed her  with  indifference,  approached  her  in  a 
very  friendly  mood. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "do  you  remember 
that  time  ?  Would  you  have  believed  that 
you  should  ever  have  danced  with  your 
winged  apparation  ?  Isn't  she  a  heavenly 
creature  ?  Ah,  and  if  you  ever  know  her 
as  she  used  to  be,  so  full  of  glee  !  Ah,  I  am 
delighted  to  think  that  you  will  fall  so  deep- 
ly in  love  with  Manna, —  oh,  so  deeply  in 
love, —  so  dead  in  love.  Will  you  promise 
me  something  ?  " 

"  What,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  That  you  will  tell  me  the  very  first  day 
when  you  fall  in  love." 


348 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"But  if  I  should  fall  in  love  with  you, 
what  then  P  "  ' 

"Come,  don't  talk  so.  I  am  much  too 
stupid  lor  you.  I  should  have  been  smart 
enough  for  Herr  von  Pranken,  but  I  am  en- 
gaged, and  out  of  the  question.  Hasn't 
Manna  told  you  anything  about  me  ?  " 

Erie  said  she  had  not,  and  Lina  con- 
tinued : — 

"  Yes,  do  this,  do  it  out  of  regard  for  me, 
and  snatch  Manna  away  from  Baron  von 
Pranken.    I  beg  of  you,  do  it  for  my  sake." 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  so  merrily  ?  " 
said  Manna,  coming  up  to  them.  "  I  have 
begun  to  laugh  to-day,  and  now  I  should 
like  to  keep  you  company." 

"Tell  her,"  said  Lina  with  a  nod.  As 
Eric  was  silent,  she  continued  : — 

"  He  can  tell  you,  but  he  is  awfully  re- 
served and  profound.  Don't  let  him  have 
any  peace,  Manna,  until  he  has  told  you. 
Herr  Captain,  if  you  don't  tell  at  once,  then 
I'll  tell." 

"  I  have  that  .confidence  in  your  sense  of 
propriety,"  said  Eric  very  seriously,  "  that  I 
do  not  believe  you  would  wantonly  turn  a 
joke  into  sober  earnest." 

Lina's  whole  mien  changed,  and  she  said  : 

"  Ah,  Manna,  he  is  so  awfully  learned! 
My  father  says  so  too,  and  he  sees  people 
through  and  through.  Don't  you  sometimes 
feel  afraid  of  him  ?  " 

Without  making  any  reply,  Manna  took 
Lina's  arm  and  went  with  her  through  the 
garden,  Lina  chatting,  joking,  and  singing 
incessantly,  like  a  nightingale  in  the  shrub- 
bery. 

After  Manna  had  gone  to  her  room,  it 
seemed  to  her  there  that  the  pictures  on  the 
wall  looked  at  her  and  asked :  Who  can  this 
be  ?  She  shut  out  the  dumb  pictures  by 
closing  her  eyes,  threw  herself  upon  her 
knees,  artd  a  voice  within  her  seemed  to  say  : 
It  must  be  thus ;  thou  art  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  the  world,  and  all  the  vain 
delights  of  life,  in  order  to  gain  the  victory 
over  them.  Yet  she  felt  down-hearted,  for 
in  the  midst  of  her  contrite  prayer  she 
seemed  to  hear  the  lively  waltzes  sounding 
in  her  ears,  and  she  heard  a  burst  of  laugh- 
ter. Could  it  have  been  she  herself  who 
had  so  laughed  ? 

The  next  day  she  had  to  enter  into  fresh 
gaieties. 

In  the  afternoon  they  drove  to  the  castle, 
and  there  the  Architect  contrived  a  new  de- 
light. He  was  a  genuine  priest  of  the  May- 
bowl,  and  with  a  sort  of  solemnity  he  mixed 
the  various  ingredients  of  the  fragrant  bev- 
erage. The  whole  company  sat  upon  a 
projecting  wall  of  the  castle,  and  looked  out 
upon  the  broadly-extending  landscape,  while  I 


Lina,  in  her  exuberant  joyousness,  sang  and 
caroled  without  intermission.  She  sang  in 
the  open  air,  as  a  general  thing,  better  than 
in  a  room  ;  and  she  had  a  good  accompani- 
ment, for  she  sang  a  duett  with  the  Archi- 
tect. 

Eric  was  again  asked  to  sing,  and  again 
he  declined. 

Lina  induced  Manna  to  drink  a  whole 
glass  of  May-wine,  and  said,  in  joke,  that  if 
she  could  only  get  Manna  once  a  little  in- 
toxicated, the  old  Manna,  or,  more  properly, 
the  young  Manna,  would  again  show  herself. 
She  seemed  ready  to  make  her  appearance, 
but  Manna  had  strength  enough  to  hold  her- 
self in  restraint,  though  she  laughed  to-day 
at  Lina's  most  trifling  jokes. 

Roland  nodded  to  Eric,  but  he  whispered 
to  him  that  he  must  not  call  attention  to 
Manna's  cheerfulness,  as  that  would  put  an 
end  to  it. 

Wreaths  were  woven,  and  Lina  recalled 
the  time  when  Eric  first  came  to  Wolfsgar- 
ten ;  with  wreaths  on  their  heads  they  all 
drove  from  the  castle  back  to  the  villa. 

At  the  last  declivity,  Manna  bounded 
lightly  down  the  hill  and  Lina  after  her ;  at 
the  foot  the  latter  embraced  her  old  school- 
mate, saying  to  her  :  — 

"  You  are  released  !  You  have  done  the 
three  best  things  in  the  world ;  you  have 
laughed,  danced,  and  drunk  —  no,  this  is 
not  the  best ;  the  best  is  yet  to  come." 

And  again  Manna  burst  into  a  ringing 
laugh. 

CHAPTER  IX. 
DEMONSTRATION  OF  RESPECT  FROM  BELOW. 

When  a  person  is  to  be  surprised  in  the 
evening  by  a  demonstration  of  respect,  what 
does  he  do  in  the  morning  ? 

Sonnenkamp  must  pretend  not  to  notice 
anything,  but  nevertheless,  he  watched  the 
barometer  very  closely.  It  had  been  rain- 
ing, and  now  the  mercury  was  rising ;  it  is 
clearing  off,  and  the  proposed  demonstra- 
tion will  come  off  beautifully.  If  one  only 
knew  beforehand  the  address  which  would 
be  made  this  evening,  one  could  get  ready 
a  suitable  response.  Princes  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  receiving  beforehand  any  ad- 
dress that  is  to  be  presented.  Sonnenkamp, 
however,  was  confident  that  the  occasion 
would  suggest  to  him  a  suitable  reply.  He 
had  never  regarded  the  honor  that  comes 
from  men ;  he  had  honored  himself,  so  far 
as  there  is  any  need  of  honor  at  all.  Should 
he  now  feel  any  concern  about  it  ?  And  by 
what  was  this  respect  obtained  ? 

By  money ! 

Had  he  not  a  superfluity  of  that  ?  it  was 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


349 


very  evident  that  their  eyes  would  not  be 
turned  upon  him. 

He  rode  out  at  the  usual  hour,  but  he 
did  not  follow  his  usual  route,  and  without 
being  aware  of  it,  he  cast  amiable  glances 
upon  all  the  people  he  met ;  he  had  a  new 
accession  of  benevolent  feeling.  He  rode 
to  the  castle,  and  looked  smilingly  around, 
involuntarily  fancying  to  himself  with  what 
delight  the  knights  formerly  returned  home 
from  their  raids  ;  they  were  strong,  fierce, 
courageous  men. 

Not  far  from  the  ruins  he  turned  aside 
into  the  wood,  for  he  saw  that  a  large  flag 
was  floating  over  the  battlements  of  the 
only  completed  tower,  and  there  were  no 
men  visible.  He  wandered  about  in  the 
wood,  leading  his  horse  by  the  bridle.  He 
himself  could  not  have  told  what  there 
passed  through  his  mind.  Here  walks  a 
man  in  the  wood,  silent,  alone,  lost  in 
thought,  and  this  evening  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  men  will  honor  him  with  cheers. 

The  Major  lay  in  wait  for  him  as  he  was 
returning,  and  insisted  upon  his  going  home 
with  him.  The  Major  had  the  air  of  a 
groomsman,  who  has  made  every  prepara- 
tion for  the  wedding,  and  now,  confident 
that  all  the  requisite  arrangements  have 
been  made,  retires  with  the  bridegroom  into 
the  quiet  apartment  until  he  shall  be  sum- 
moned by  the  full  band. 

The  dinner  to-day  was  not  so  well  served 
as  usual,  but  Sonnenkamp  took  no  notice  of 
it,  not  wanting  to  show  that  he  knew  of  the 
preparations  for  the  evening  celebration. 

In  the  afternoon  there  were  present  the 
neighbouring  families  of  the  Cabinetsrath, 
the  Justice  and  his  wife,  the  Doctor,  and 
the  Major,  who  had  absented  himself  for  a 
brief  period  and  now  appeared  with  all  his 
decorations.  Many  others  came  also;  even 
the  young  widow,  the  daughter  of  Herr  von 
Endlich,  was  there,  in  her  widow's  weeds, 
having  come  to  spend  a  few  weeks  in  the 
summer  with  her  parents  in  the  country. 
Pranken  had  invited  the  best  society  in  the 
vicinity,  for  he  knew  that  this  public  recog- 
nition of  his  renown  was  very  agreeable  to 
Herr  Sonnenkamp.  All  were  present,  how- 
ever, as  if  by  accident,  and  Sonnenkamp 
allowed  this  tacitly  understood  lie  to  pass. 

Pranken  was  particularly  attentive  to  the 
beautiful  young  widow,  and  made  the  most 
of  his  position  as  son  of  the  house.  He 
was  glad,  as  he  once  caught  Manna's  glance, 
that  she  had  an  opportunity  of  perceiving 
what  temptations  and  charms  were  offered 
to  him;  and. the  words  which  he  made  use 
of  in  introducing  Manna  to  the  young  widow 
seemed  to  him  very  well  chosen.  He 
said,  — 


"  You,  gracious  lady,  and  Fraulein  Son- 
nenkamp are  just  fitted  to  be  friends  ;  for 
Fraulein  Sonnenkamp  has  also  a  maturity 
of  mind  far  beyond  her  years." 

The  young  widow  was  very  gracious  to 
Manna,  and  Pranken  left  them  by  them- 
selves, for  he  had  a  great  deal  to  attend  to 
as  son  of  the  house. 

He  had  given  orders  to  the  cook  to  have 
in  readiness  an  ample  provision  of  roast 
meats  and  common  wines,  and  he  had 
looked  out  also  for  the  cigars.  Sonnenkamp 
knew  everything  that  was  going  on,  but 
pretended  to  see  and  hear  nothing. 

When  evening  came,  Pranken,  in  presence 
of  all,  requested  the  father  —  such  was  the 
word  he  made  use  of  emphatically  —  to  re- 
main in  his  room  until  he  should  be  sent 
for.  Very  modestly,  bashfully,  and  indul- 
gently, Sonnenkamp  betook  himself  to  his 
room. 

Long  tables  were  now  set  in  the  court- 
yard, and  food  and  drink  were  spread  upon 
them,  for  the  boats  fastened  together  and 
gondolas  were  already  coming  down  from 
the  upper  Rhine,  and  music  was  heard  in 
the_  distance.  The  boats  arranged  them- 
selves in  front  of  the  villa. 

When  it  was  dark,  torches  and  parti-col- 
ored lamps,  like  a  garland  of  fire,  were 
hung  upon  the  vessels. 

Sonnenkamp  was  alone  in  his  room,  and 
he  was  continually  trying  to  imagine  what 
sort  of  an  address  would  be  made  to  him, 
and  he  repeated  half  aloud  to  himself  his 
reply. 

Approaching  footsteps  were  now  heard, 
and  the  Major  and  the  Justice  made  their 
appearance.  The  Major  said  that  they 
would  bear  him  company  for  a  while,  and 
the  Justice  added  that  it  must  certainly 
touch  him  very  deeply,  for  he  would  be 
obliged  to  be  an  actual  witness  of  the  grati- 
tude which  the  hearts  of  so  many  people, 
struggling  for  the  means  of  living,  felt 
towards  him.  Sonnenkamp  expressed  his 
thanks,  and  smoked  away  quietly,  holding 
his  cigar  very  tenderly,  as  if  he  felt  bashful 
even  in  its  presence. 

He  begged  his  friends  to  excuse  him  for 
not  being  able  to  entertain  them ;  that  he 
had  lived  so  many  years  abroad,  and  now 
it  almost  overwhelmed  him  to  have  found  a 
home  in  so  many  staunch  hearts  ;  and  he 
did  not  deserve  it,  for  he  had  given  nothing 
but  a  little  wretched  money.  The  Justice 
wanted  to  make  a  reply,  but  the  Major 
nodded  to  him  to  omit  it.  In  such  mo- 
ments, he  whispered  to  him,  a  man  must 
be  expected  to  make  some  extravagant 
speeches,  and  it  is  sufficient  to  listen  quietly 
to  what  he  says ;  and  besides,  he  saw  that 


350 


THE  COUNTRY -HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Sonnenkamp  was  conning  over  the  speech 
which  he  was  soon  to  get  off. 

Several  heavy  footsteps  were  now  heard, 
and  Pranken  said,  opening  the  door,  — 

"  This  way,  my  men." 

A  deputation  of  boatmen  entered,  headed 
by  Sevenpiper,  and  he  begged  Sonnenkamp 
to  be  so  kind  as  to  allow  them  to  present  to 
him  a  tribute  of  their  grateful  respect. 
With  eyes  cast  down,  and  as  if  weighed 
down  by  the  burden  of  honor  heaped  upon 
him,  amidst  the  boatmen  dressed  in  their 
light-colored  clothes,  Sonnenkamp  went 
down  the  steps  into  the  park. 

Here  a  beautiful  scene  presented  itself  to 
his  view.  The  boatmen  were  standing  in 
the  boats  illuminated  by  differently  colored 
lights,  and  singing  in  chorus  a  song  which 
sounded  on  the  distant  air.  Sonnenkamp 
stood  there  with  folded  hands,  looking 
straight  before  him  ;  and  then  he  separated 
his  hands,  and  rubbed  the  ring  on  the 
thumb  of  his  right  hand,  which  pained  him. 
The  song  ended,  and  a  cheer  was  called  for 
in  honor  of  the  great  benefactor.  The 
cannons  roared,  and  the  reports  were 
echoed  and  re-echoed  from  the  mountains, 
so  that  it  was  proclaimed  through  the  land 
as  with  a  voice  of  thunder  up  the  river  and 
down. 

Sonnenkamp  returned  his  thanks  in  a 
brief  but  hearty  speech ;  Roland  stood  at 
his  right  hand  and  Manna  at  his  left.  He 
placed  his  right  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of 
his  son,  by  this  means  hiding  the  thumb, 
and  with  the  other  hand  he  took  Manna's  ; 
he  concluded  with  the  request  that  the  good 
neighbors  would  be  pleased  to  extend  their 
kindness  also  to  his  children. 

A  lad,  who  was  standing  at  the  helm, 
wearing  the  clothes  which  Roland  had  sent 
him  on  his  birthday,  now  called  for  a  cheer 
for  Roland;  again  the  cannons  fired.  Ro- 
land said  to  the  Major :  I  cannot  make  a 
speech.  He  went  down,  and  got  on  board 
the  boat  and  shook  hands  with  the  men ; 
and  he  now  perceived,  for  the  first  time, 
that  Erie  was  on  the  boat.  He  sat  behind 
the  others  and  had  assisted  them  in  singing ; 
the  school-teacher,  Fassbender,  was  sitting 
with  him. 

They  all  now  came  on  shore.  The  boat- 
men, with  a  band  of  music,  marched 
through  the  park  to  the  tables  that  had 
been  spread  for  their  entertainment.  Son- 
nenkamp  immediately  gave  orders,  and  in 
a  sharp  tone,  that  the  chairs  should  be  re- 
moved. 

"  It  isn't  necessary  for  them  to  sit  down," 
said  he  to  Pranken;  "  I  had  imagined  you 
would  have  thought  of  that.  Have  them  out 
of  the  way  soon.    You  can't  trust  these 


common  people,  they  soon  get  out  of  order. 
Let  the  wine  be  taken  on  board  the  boats, 
and  there  they  may  get  as  crazy  as  they 
please." 

At  the  first  glass  Sevenpiper  proposed 
the  health  of  Frau  Sonnenkamp,  and  Son- 
nenkamp returned  thanks  in  her  behalf 
from  the  outside  steps,  and  expressed  his 
regret  that  his  wife,  on  account  of  illness,- 
could  not  be  present.  He  begged  them  to 
be  as  quiet  as  possible,  for  she  was  very 
sensitive.  A  damper  was  thus  put  upon 
the  merriment,  and  Eric  led  the  men  back 
to  the  boats.  They  took  their  departure, 
the  cannons  roared,  the  music  struck  up, 
and  then  all  was  again  still  at  the  villa. 

They  sat  in  a  friendly  circle  in  the  grand 
saloon,  and  Sonnenkamp  looked  more  used 
up  than  he  had  ever  been  before ;  his  feat- 
ures lighted  up,  however,  when  the  Major, 
who  had  a  happy  thought,  said,  — 

"This  must  all  be  reported  by  a  good 
hand  in  the  newspaper !  You,  Comrade," 
turning  to  Eric,  "you  will  certainly  do  it 
up  finely.    Not  a  word  ;  you  must." 

Eric  explained  that  he  had  no  intention 
of  refusing  ;  he  had  only  wanted  to  do  of  his 
own  accord  what  the  Major  had  suggested. 
The  Major  gave  him  a  violent  grip  of  the 
hand,  and  did  not  drop  it  until  Eric  said,  — 

"If  you  squeeze  my  hand  any  longer,  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  write  to-morrow." 

The  Major  went  to  Eric's  mother,  and 
commended  him  for  having  sung  with  the 
people ;  he  only  regretted  that  Fraulein 
Milch  had  not  been  a  spectator  of  the  beau- 
tiful celebration,  but  she  was  stiff-necked  in 
regard  to  everything  connected  with  the 
Sonnenkamp  house.  He  could  not  imagine 
why  it  was  ;  she  was  in  every  other  respect 
so  kind  towards  everybody. 

The  Professorin  knew  why  Fräulein  Milch 
stayed  away,  and  it  gav«  her  a  severe 
twinge,  that  she  herself  had  to  be  present, 
and  that  her  son  was  to  proclaim  the  fame 
of  this  man,  who,  in  all  that  he  did,  had  an 
entirely  different  end  in  view  from  what 
Eric  imagined.  She  looked  at  the  man,  at 
his  children,  and  at  the  whole  company,  and 
could  not  help  thinking  how  it  would  be,  if, 
instead  of  these  salutes  of  cannon  in  his 
honor  that  now  echoed  in  the  night,  a 
wholly  different  report  should  be  heard  over 
mountain  and  valley. 

The  company  at  last  departed.  Roland 
and  Eric  accompanied  the  Mother  home. 
Roland  was  brimful  of  joy  over  this  tribute 
of  universal  respect,  and  Eric  took  care  to 
impress  upon  him  again  how  great  a  happi- 
ness it  was,  to  be  able  so  to  make  other  peo- 
ple happy.  Roland  spoke  of  the  intention 
of  his  father  to  set  out  walnut  trees  through- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


351 


out  the  whole  region,  and  complained  that 
he  himself  seemed  to  be  like  Alexander  of 
Macedon,  who  found  fault  with  his  father, 
Philip,  for  leaving  nothing  for  him  to  do. 
The  Mother  and  Eric  rejoiced  at  this  awak- 
ened zeal  of  the  youth,  and  when  he  took 
leave,  the  Mother  shed  tears  as  she  kissed 
him. 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  your  mother, 
that  she  was  so  sad  all  the  evening  ?  "  said 
Roland,  as  they  were  returning  home. 

"  She  has  lost  the  key-note  of  joy,"  re- 
plied Eric. 

That  very  night  he  wrote  a  spirited  ac- 
count of  the  benevolent  Institution,  and  the 
cheerful  festivities,  and  sent  it  to  Professor 
Crutius  at  the  capital.  The  next  day  but 
one,  the  journal  came  to  the  villa.  Sonnen- 
kamp thanked  Eric  for  his  well-written  com- 
munication, and  Roland  begged,  — 

"  Give  me  the  paper ;  I  will  keep  it  for  a 
perpetual  remembrance.  I  am  so  glad  that 
I  am  going  to  be  a  soldier.  If  I  win  bat- 
tles, it  will  be  published  in  the  papers,  and 
the  scholars  will  be  obliged  to  hear  of  my 
name,  and  of  my  deeds,  just  like  those  of 
Miltiades,  and  Washington,  and  Napoleon.11 

There  was  another  communication  pub- 
lished in  the  official  gazette,  and  Pranken 
did  not  deny  that  he  was  the  author  of  it. 
What  Eric  had  written  was  every  way  fine, 
but  this  communication  came  to  the  eyes  of 
the  Prince,  and  so  was  of  far  greater  impor- 
tance, and  soon  showed  its  results. 

CHAPTER  X. 
THE  VICTORIA  REGIA  IN  BLOOM. 

The  Cabinetsrathin  proved  herself  to  be 
grateful  and  well  informed ;  she  showed  to 
Sonnenkamp  a  letter  from  her  husband,  in 
which  he  stated  that  the  Prince  had  read 
with  great  satisfaction  the  account  of  the 
Institution  and  the  popular  celebration. 
But  a  much  more  important  point  was,  that 
the  Prince  expressed  the  intention  of  paying 
a  visit  in  person  to  the  famous  green-houses 
and  fruit-plantations  of  Sonnenkamp.  This 
must  be  kept  a  profound  secret,  but  it  was 
very  proper  that  Sonnenkamp  should  be  in- 
formed of  it.  He  sent  back  the  request 
that  the  visit  of  the  Prince  should  be  an- 
nounced by  a  telegram. 

He  seemed  to  himself  now  a  prisoner  in 
his  own  domains.  Ha  had  had  no  idea  of 
leaving  the  villa  until  it  was  time  for  him  to 
set  out  for  the  Baths,  but  now  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  might  be  called  suddenly  away, 
and  the  Prince  would  be  sure  to  come  dur- 
ing his  absence. 

He  gave  precise  orders,  and  promised  a 
special  remuneration  for  the  speediest  for- 


warding of  any  telegram  from  the  capital ; 
but  day  after  day  passed,  and  none  came. 
Everything  had  resumed  its  quiet  routine, 
but  Sonnenkamp  was  constantly  in  a  state 
of  feverish  excitement.  Pranken  wanted  to 
go  away,  but  remained  at  Sonnenkamp's 
request,  who  imparted  to  him,  in  the  strict- 
est confidence,  what  distinguished  visitors 
he  was  expecting. 

Pranken  endured  very  patiently  Manna's 
aversion  to  any  decided  advances  towards 
intimacy ;  -he  was  glad  to  perceive  that  she 
treated  Eric  with  special  coolness,  for  after 
those  days  of  harmless  and  merry  enjoy- 
ment, she  had  withdrawn  into  her  life  of 
strict  penitential  seclusion ;  and  if  she 
chanced  to  meet  Eric,  her  countenance  at 
once  became  darkened. 

Sonnenkamp  went  through  the  park,  the 
orchard  and  the  green-houses,  and  would 
have  been  glad  to  beseech  all  the  plants  to 
be  in  a  beautiful  and  afresh  condition  when 
their  Highnesses  arrived ;  and  his  old  pre- 
dilection for  grubbing  in  the  earth  with  his 
sack-like  garment  was  indulged  with  great 
circumspection. 

He  was  sitting  in  the  hot-house,  and  say- 
ing to  himself  how  very  quiet  he  would  be, 
if  the  Prince,  as  was  scarcely  to  be  doubted, 
should  bring  into  the  house  his  diploma  of 
nobility.  And  as  he  thus  sat  meditating 
with  himself,  there  was  a  strange  rustling 
in  the  air;  a  gentle,  scarcely  perceptible 
crackling  was  noticed,  and  Sonnenkamp 
cried  out,  — 

"  It  has  burst  open  !  " 

The  Victoria  Regia  had  bloomed.  He 
saw  the  flower,  he  took  delight  in  it,  and 
yet  he  shook  his  head  in  vexation.  Why 
couldst  thou  not  wait,  and  open  at  the  very 
instant  when  the  Prince  was  standing  here? 
One  ought  to  be  able  to  compel  nature ! 
That  would  be  the  thing  ! 

He  sent  a  carriage  immediately  for  the 
Cabinetsrathin,  and  she  came.  She  found 
the  whole'  family,  Frau  Ceres  included,  in 
amazement  at  the  sight  of  the  wonderful 
flower ;  and  she  too  was  enraptured. 

Sonnenkamp  explained  to  her  that  the 
Victoria  Regia  was  white  when  it  first 
bloomed,  and  closed  its  flower  at  night ;  that 
du)*ing  the  second  night  it  opened  again, 
and  was  then  of  a  rose-color.  For  four 
days  a  new  flower  appeared  each  day,  and 
the  former  flower  sank  down  under  water. 

He  took  the  Cabinetsrathin  aside ;  she  ' 
must  immediately  inform  the  Court  of  the 
event.    Now  there  was  a  special  induce- 
ment for  the  Prince  to  come. 

At  evening,  the  tidings  were  sent  that 
the  Prince  and  the  Princess  were  coming  the 
next  day ;  but  they  would  take  it  very  ill,  if 


352 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


any  one  should  give  it  to  be  understood  that 
this  was  anything  more  than  a  mere  casual 
visit. 

Sonnenkamp  heaved  a  deep  sigh ;  if  all 
was  to  appear  accidental,  then  the  Prince 
would  not  bring  with  him  the  patent  of  a 
nobility,  for  that  required  previous  prepara- 
t  on,  many  formalities,  and  sessions  of  the 
Commission  on  Orders.  But  perhaps  all 
that  was  a  matter  of  secrecy,  which  the  Cab- 
inetsriithin  was  not  allowed  to  disclose. 

The  well-posted  neighbor  did'  not  con- 
sider this  probable,  and  so  Sonnenkamp's 
peeidiar  satisfaction  in  all  this  was  utterly 
destroyed.  Then  one  must  keep  doing  for- 
ever some  new  thing,  must  wait,  and  use 
fresh  exertions.  He  was  so  vexed,  that  he 
feared  he  should  be  uncivil  to  the  Prince. 
He  impressed  upon  himself  the  necessity  of 
the  greatest  self-control  that  no  vexation 
and  impatience  should  appear. 

In  the  morning,  after  an  almost  sleepless 
night,  Sonnenkamp  issued  directions  that 
no  one  shoflld  leave  the  house  on  that  day, 
and  in  a  measure  commanded  Frau  Ceres 
not  to  be  sick.  He  went  to  the  Professorin 
and  begged  her  to  do  the  honors  of  the 
house,  confessing  to  her  whom  he  was  ex- 
pecting, and  saying  that  he  could  have  no 
secrets  with  her. 

The  Professorin  shuddered  all  over,  and 
her  look  said  :  — 

"  You  dare  to  tell  me  that,  when  I 
know  " 

But  she  restrained  herself,  and  placed 
herself  at  the  disposal  of  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

He  waited  in  the  garden  in  front  of  the 
green  cottage  until  the  Professorin  had 
changed  her  dress  ;  and  she  wore  to-day,  for 
the  first  time,  a  miniature  in  pastel  of  her 
deceased  husband.  She  accompanied  Son- 
nenkamp to  the  villa,  and  Frau  Ceres  was  i 
exceedingly  surprised  to  see  her  at  so  unu-  | 
sual  an  hour. 

The  Professorin  had  obtained  permission 
to  inform  Fran  Ceres  of  the  expected  visit, 
and  the  lady  wished  to  deck  herself  with  all 
her  jewels.  It  was  very  hard  to  convince 
her  that  she  ought  to  be  dressed  with  great 
simplicity. 

A  telegram  from  the  Cabinetsrathin  at  the 
capital  informed  them  that  the  royal  party 
had  set  out. 

It  was  now  a  matter  of  certainty.  Eric, 
Roland,  and  Manna  were  also  informed,  and 
Eric  wished  to  remain  in  his  room. 

"  Perhaps  you  expect  to  be  summoned  P" 
said  Frauken  sharply. 

"  I  expect  nothing  but  civility,  where  I  j 
am  not  aware  of  having  done  anything  to  [ 
offend,"  replied  Eric,  courteously. 


Pranken  tossed  his  head  slightly ;  he  had, 
in  fact,  fully  made  up  his  mind :  This  person 
must  be  off;  the  man  is  becoming  a  nui- 
sance ;  but  this  tutor's  family  have  nestled 
themselves  in  here,  like  caterpillars  in  a 
bee-hive,  and  there's  nothing  to  be  done 
but  smoke  them  out. 

Pranken  was  the  only  one  who  was  com- 
posed and  self-possessed ;  he  was  the  cham- 
berlain and  the  Baron  von  Pranken,  and  all 
the  rest  were  nothing  but  wretched  under- 
lings. 

Manna  especially  was  restless ;  and  to- 
day, for  the  first  time,  she  was  confidential 
towards  Pranken. 

She  expressed  her  satisfaction  that  the 
whole  household  had  such  a  noble  support  to 
lean  upon. 

Pranken  was  freshly  inspirited  by  these 
words. 

"  You  will  like  being  at  Court,"  he  said 
to  Manna. 

And  Sonnenkamp,  who  was  standing  not 
far  off,  added  immediately  :  — 

"  Yes,  my  child,  you  will  receive  delight 
and  honor  at  the  side  of  the  most  honored 
and  most  beloved  nobleman.11 

Manna  cast  down  her  eyes.  Then  Ro- 
land came  up,  dressed  completely  in 
white. 

"Just  see  how  handsome  he  is,"  said 
Manna  to  Pranken. 

Roland  was  full  of  confidence,  and  ex- 
horted Manna  not  to  be  so  timid :  their 
royal  Highnesses  were  very  gracious,  and 
after  the  first  words,  one  had  the  feeling 
that  he  was  with  his  own  comrades. 

Lootz  was  stationed  on  the  flat  roof  of 
the  house  to  look  out,  and  now  he  came 
hurriedly  down,  exclaiming  :  — 

"  They  are  coming  ! 11 

They  separated  as  if  no  one  was  ex- 
pected. 

Two  carriages  drove  into  the  courtyard. 
Sonnenkamp  hastened  down  the  outside 
steps,  but  stumbled  on  the  lowest  one,  and 
had  to  hold  on  by  the  railing. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? 

A  black  face ! 

Where  does  this  come  from  ? 

"Come!  Come!11  cried  Pranken,  who 
was  hurrying  after  him.  "  Their  royal  High- 
nesses are  already  getting  up." 

He  reached  the  carriage  at  just  the  right 
moment,  and  had  the  honor  of  being  able 
to  take  the  hand  of  the  Prince  as  he  was 
getting  out  of  the  carriage.  The  Princess 
got  out  at  the  other  side,  with  Pranken's 
assistance,  and  expressed  in  gracious  words 
how  much  satisfaction  she  took  in  being  able 
for  once  to  see  the  place,  and  the  man  in 
his  own  house,  whence  proceeded  so  much 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


353 


that  was  excellent  and  beneficent  to  the 
people. 

The  Princess,  who  cherished  a  special 
zeal  for  the  benevolent  institutions  of  the 
land,  considered  herself  bound  to  express 
her  thanks  for  Sonnenkamp' s  generous  ex- 
penditures. She  would  have  preferred  that 
he  should  have  devoted  his  munificent  out- 
lays to  institutions  already  established  by 
her,  instead  of  founding  new  ones.  It  was 
a  decided  oversight  of  Pranken's  not  to 
have  taken  that  into  consideration. 

There  was  a  slight  tone  of  dissatisfaction 
in  the  remark  of  the  Princess,  that  she  was 
always  glad  when  new  institutions  were 
founded. 

Frau  Ceres  had  approached,  accompanied 
by  Manna. 

The  Princess  addressed  a  few  words  to 
Frau  Ceres,  and  then  said  to  Manna  that 
she  looked  wholly  different  from  her  brother, 
except  that  her  eyes  were  like  his. 

"  But  where  is  Roland?  " 

He  was  now  seen  coming  down  the  steps  ; 
he  was  urgently  requesting  Eric  to  go  with 
him,  while  Eric  and  the  Mother  bade  him 
go  alone. 

He  obeyed,  and  was  welcomed  by  their 
royal  Highnesses  in  a  very  cordial  manner. 

The  Prince  went  towards  the  house, 
where  the  Professorin  was  standing  on  the 
steps  with  Eric ;  he  went  up  to  her  with 
quick  step,  holding  out  both  hands,  and 
saying  how  glad  he  was  to  see  her  again ; 
then,  pointing  to  the  miniature,  he  added 
that  he  cherished  a  most  grateful  remem- 
brance of  its  subject,  and  wore  his  image 
not  on  but  in  his  breast.  Eric  seemed  to 
be  hardly  noticed,  till  a  glance  from  his 
mother  said,  "Speak  to  my  son," and  the 
Prince  turned  to  him  with  the  words  :  — 

"  I  hope,  dear  Dournay,  that  you  have  a 
better,  pupil  than  your  excellent  father  had 
in  me.11 

Eric  found  nothing  to  say  in  reply,  but 
bowed  in  silence.  Pranken  approached, 
and  asked :  — 

"Will  your  Highness  see  the  Park  and 
the  Victoria  Regia  in  bloom  first,  or  the 
house  ?  " 

"  Ask  the  Princess,"  was  the  answer. 

Pranken  moved  with  great  deference 
towards  the  other  group,  catching  Manna's 
bright  glance,  which  followed  him  every- 
where. Where  was  Eric  now  ?  There  stood 
the  poor  fellow,  and  it  was  laughable  to 
think  of  his  daring  to  aspire  to  an  equality 
with  a  Pranken. 

The  Princess  said  that,  after  her  drive, 
she  would  prefer  to  go  into  the  house  first. 

They  repaired  to  the  balcony  room,  where 
a  breakfast  stood  ready,  and  Sonnenkamp 


had  the  audacity  to  beg  their  Highnesses  to 
accept  with  favor  such  a  simple  and  extem- 
pore repast  as  a  commoner  could  offer  them. 

Frau  Ceres  was  favored  with  a  seat  at  the 
Prince's  right  hand,  and  the  Professorin  was 
seated  at  his  left ;  the  Princess  sat  between 
Sonnenkamp  and  Roland. 

Eric  was  fortunate  enough  to  find,  among 
the  gentlemen  in  attendance,  a  former  com- 
rade to  converse  with. 

"You  must  enter  the  military  school 
soon,"  said  the  Prince,  addressing  Roland. 

Sonnenkamp  looked  fixedly  at  him ;  the 
Prince  knew  very  well  when  Roland  was  to 
enter,  and  every  moment  Sonnenkamp  ex- 
pected to  see  a  sign  given  to  one  of  the 
chamberlains  to  hand  him  his  patent  of  no- 
bility, but  it  did  not  come.  The  Prince 
talked  very  earnestly  with  the  Professorin, 
expressing  his  regret  that  a  lady  of  such 
rare  spiritual  and  mental  endowments  should 
have  withdrawn  from  Cour-t. 

They  soon  rose  from  the  table,  and  Son- 
nenkamp was  made  happy  by  the  Prince's 
praise  of  his  green-house  and  park,  and  his 
skilful  fruit  culture.  Suddenly,  in  the  or- 
chard, the  Prince  asked  the  Professorin  :  — 

"  Where  is  your  sister-in-law,  the  beau- 
tiful Claudine  ?  " 

"  She  is  close  by  ;  she  lives  with  me  in  the 
house  in  which  Herr  Sonnenkamp  has  es- 
tablished us."' 

"  We  will  call  upon  her,"  said  the  Prince, 
abruptly ;  and  they  went  through  the  new 
gate,  across  the  meadows,  to  the  green  cot- 
tage. 

The  Aunt  was  very  much  surprised,  but 
retained  her  quiet  self-possession.  The 
Prince  told  her  that  he  could  never  think 
of  harp-playing  without  at  the  same  time 
thinking  of  Fraulein  Claudine ;  one  of  the 
pleasantest  recollections  of  his  youth  was 
of  seeing  and  hearing  her,  as  she  sat  with 
her  long  curls,  on  a  tabouret  in  his  mother's 
room ;  it  was  the  prettiest  bit  of  romance 
among  his  childish  memories.  Then  again 
he  expressed  his  gratitude  to  the  sister  of 
his  teacher,  and  extolled  Herr  Sonnenkamp's 
good  fortune  in  having  two  such  noble  la- 
dies as  neighbors. 

The  Prince  sincerely  desired  to  make 
people  happy,  and  he  believed  that  he  eould 
do  so  with  his  porcelain  flowers  of  speech ; 
he  was  perfectly  convinced  that  from  this 
day  forth  Aunt  Claudine  would  feel  an  un- 
exampled satisfaction  and  happiness. 

He  remained  a  long  time  at  the  cottage, 
and  gave  orders  that  the  carriages  should 
follow  him,  that  they  might  start  from  there 
on  their  return. 

Eric,  who  had  not  been  asked  to  join  the 
party,  remained  behind  at  the  villa,  and 


354 


THE  CO.UNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  KEINE. 


talked  with  a  tall  coal-black  negro,  named 
Adams. 

The  negro,  who  wore  a  fantastic  livery, 
soon  became  confidential,  and  said  that  he 
had  been  a  member  of  a  circus  company, 
and  was  much  applauded  for  his  bold  leaps, 
and  his  extraordinary  strength  ;  the  brother 
of  the  Prince,  when  travelling  in  America, 
had  bought  his  freedom,  and  he  was  now  the 
Prince's  favorite  footman.  His  only  trouble 
was  that  his  wife,  a  white  woman  who  had 
loved  him  dearly,  and  his  child  were  dead, 
and  he  should  never  get  another  wife. 

Eric  had  never  before  spoken  to  a  man 
who  had  been  a  slave,  and  he  could  not  help 
saying  how  much  it  moved  him  to  do  so. 

While  Eric  was  talking  with  the  negro, 
he  little  thought  that  he  was  being  talked 
of  in  the  green  cottage  ;  his  aunt  resolutely 
turned  the  conversation  upon  him,  and  told 
the  Prince  what  a  man  he  had  become.  As 
the  guests  were  about  to  enter  their  carriage, 
the  Prince  said,  in  quite  a  loud  voice,  to 
the  Professorin  :  — 

"Where  is  your  son?  Tell  him  that  I 
should  be  very  glad  to  prove  to  him  how 
well  I  remember  our  boyish  companionship."1 

The  Princess'  party  drove  off.  The  tall 
negro,  who  was  sitting  behind  the  carriage, 
gazed  back  for  a  long  time.  Sonnenkamp 
was  much  out  of  temper,  and  said  to  Pran- 
ken that  this  visit  from  the  Prince  had  taken 
an  incomprehensible  turn,  which  he  could 
not  understand ;  he  was  unused  to  such 
things.  It  was  clear  that  it  had  left  him  in 
most  decided  ill-humor. 

When  they  returned  to  the  villa,  Manna 
went  to  Eric  and  said, — 

"  The  Prince  left  a  special  message  for 
you  with  your  mother,  and  you  are  to  re- 
member that  you  were  his  comrade  in  bov- 
hood." 

Eric  answered  with  frank  cordiality  : — 

"  The  only  gratifying  circumstance  about 
the  Prince's  gracious  message,  Fraulejn 
Manna,  is,  that  you  bring  it  to  me." 

All  looked  surprised  at  this  friendly  dia- 
logue between  Eric  and  Manna.  Pranken 
ground  his  teeth,  and  clenched  his  fists  at 
the  ready  audacity  of  the  tutor. 

"Where  have  you  been?'1  asked  Son- 
nenkamp, in  a  tone  of  reproof. 

"I  have  been  talking  with  the  Prince's 
servant/' 

Sonnenkamp  gave  him  a  peculiar  look, 
and  then  went  to  his  green-house. 

Pranken  announced  that  he  must  now 
take  his  departure ;  he  evidently  expected 
Manna  to  raise  some  opposition,  but  she 
said  nothing.  So  he  rode  off,  leaving  a 
strange  feeling  of  disturbance  behind  him 
at  the  villa. 


CHAPTER  II. 
DEMONSTRATION  OF  RESrECT  FROM  ABOVE. 

A  flash  of  lightning  in  the  night-sky 
makes  us  fully  conscious  of  the  darkness, 
aud  our  eyes  are  blinded.  So  it  was  after 
the  departure  of  the  Prince  and  Princess ; 
every  one  sought  to  avoid  the  eye  of  an- 
other, every  one  went  his  own  way,  but  no 
one  spoke  out  his  vexation  and  disappoint- 
ment more  frankly  than  the  valet  Joseph, 
and  the  steward  agreed  with  him  ;  the  latter 
could  not  say  much,  because  his  mouth  was 
full  of  the  delicacies  which  had  been  re- 
moved from  the  table,  but  he  nodded  silent- 
ly, and  became  very  red  in  the  face.  Jo- 
seph said : — 

"  Not  to  leave  a  single  gratuity  behind 
them !  What  is  there  left  of  the  whole 
show  ?  Nothing ;  and  at  Court  there  isn't  a 
table  better  laid  and  served,  or  more  hand- 
somely provided.  They  ought  to  be  as- 
hamed of  themselves  !  Not  to  leave  a  sin- 
gle penny  for  the  servants  !  " 

Such  was  the  fact. 

No  one,  except  Aunt  Claudine,  of  whom 
nobody  had  thought,  could  find  any  good 
reason  for  satisfaction.  • 

Sonnenkamp  pondered  and  speculated 
how  he  could  have  brought  about  the  change 
in  the  Prince's  gracious  mood.  His  inmost 
soul  rebelled  against  being  so  dependent 
on  the  whim  or  the  glance  of  another  — 
he,  the  man  who  had  ruled  so  absolutely 
over  all  that  came  in  his  way.  He  torment- 
ed himself  till  his  head  burned,  to  think 
over  the  whole  course  of  the  visit,  and  at 
last  he  thought  he  had  found  out  the  trouble  ; 
it  was  only  a  hitch  at  a  glove  which  had 
shown  it,  but  that  was  doubtless  the  sign  of 
annoyance.  He  had  told  the  Prince  how 
delighted  he  should  be  to  drink  new  health 
from  the  same  spring  as  his  gracious  high- 
ness, and.,  when  the  Prince  looked  at*  him 
inquiringly,  he  had  added  that  he  also  was 
going  to  Carlsbad,  .where  he  should  have 
the  happiness  of  beholding  his  Prince's  face 
every  day.  Yes,  that  was  it ;  the  Prince 
had  cast  a  hasty  glance  of  astonishment 
upon  him,  and  given  his  glove  a  twitch. 

Sonnenkamp  acknowledged  to  himself 
that  he  had  made  a  decided  blunder  in  not 
using  more  reserve ;  for  nothing  of  the 
Prince's  journey  to  the  Baths  was  yet  offi- 
cially announced,  and  his  mentioning  it  had 
been  premature,  and  showed  some  private 
source  of  information.  He  was  more  vexed 
at  the  caution  and  self-restraint  that  one 
was  compelled  to  observe,  than  at  his  own 
want  of  tact.  Could  not  the  Prince  have 
taken  it  pleasantly  ?    Had  not  a  good,  and, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


355 


as  he  himself  thought,  a  most  graceful  turn 
been  given  to  his  allusion? 

The  thoughts  of  the  self-tormentor  went 
further,  and  new  tokens  appeared.  Had  not 
the  Prince  said  to  Aunt  Claudine  : — 

"  Everything  seems  so  thoroughly  pleas- 
ant here ;  here  I  find  nothing  disturbed 
from  its  usual  course." 

The  Prince  was  evidently  offended  that 
any  secret  preparations  had  been  made  for 
his  reception  ;  it  probably  seemed  to  him  that 
he  was  surrounded  by  spies. 

And  now  Sonnenkamp's  wrath  broke  out 
anew,  not  against  himself,  but  against  the 
Prince,  who  ought  to  remember  how  long  he 
had  lived  in  a  foreign  land ;  and  the  Pro- 
fessorin ought  to  have  managed  matters 
better,  for  she  had  been  a  lady-in-waiting 
at  Court ;  and  Pranken  ought  to  have  man- 
aged better,  too,  for  was  he  not  a  chamber- 
lain ? 

Sonnenkamp  fumed  with  rage  over  the 
whole  business,  and  now,  for  the  first  time, 
it  struck  him  how  strange  it  was  that  these 
people  should  treat  all  this  humbug  of  rank 
so  seriously ;  they  knew  that  it  was  hum- 
bug, but  its  very  existence  depended  on 
their  vying  with  each  other  to  keep  up  the 
appearance  of  entertaining  religious  vener- 
ation for  the  humbug. 

For  a  little  while  Sonnenkamp  thought 
of  giving  up  the  whole  scheme.  Why 
should  he  be  ennobled  ;  why  should  he  enter 
the  Court  circle,  and  put  himself  under  a 
lasting  obligation  ?  He  was  proud  of  pos- 
sessing an  independent  nature,  and  now 
was  he  to  allow  himself  to  be  put  in  uni- 
form, and  to  measure  every  step,  every 
movement,  and  every  word,  according  to 
the  court  etiquette  ?  He  would  rather  re- 
main as  he  was,  proud  of  his  own  position, 
and  show  openly  the  contempt  which  he 
felt  for  the  whole  body  of  nobles. 

Then  ho  felt  with  pain  that  he  had  already 
gone  too  far ;  a  retreat  would  be  a  mere  dis- 
grace. And  how  long  he  had  consoled  Fray 
Ceres  with  this  hope,  how  far  he  was  bound 
for  Pranken's  sake,  and,  more  than  all,  for 
Roland's !  What  was  to  become  of  the 
latter,  if  he  was  not  raised  to  the  nobility? 
Were  Roland  and  his  descendants  to  be 
impoverished  again  ?  No,  rank  must  be 
won.  On  the  boldly  earned  property  an 
entail  should  be  laid,  so  that  generation 
after  generation  of  his  descendants  should 
never  be  stripped  of  rank  and  wealth ;  the 
villa  and  the  castle  should  remain  an  in- 
alienable possession  in  ihe  family. 

Something  of  his  own  past  life  rose  in 
Sonnenkamp's  memory,  and  he  said  to  him- 
self aloud,  — 

*'  You  owe  it  to  your  child  to  turn  aside 


from  him  what  has  brought  you  to  this 
pass." 

Calm  and  resolved  he  went  back  to  the 
house,  and  appeared  to  all  highly  gratified 
with  the  visit.  Indeed,  when  Joseph  told 
him  that  the  Princess'  party  had  not  left  a 
single  present  for  the  servants,  he  gave  him 
a  handsome  sum,  saying  that  it  had  been 
entrusted  to  Pranken ;  the  servants  would 
j  spread  the  report  far  and  wide,  that  the 
i  Prince  had  been  at  the  villa  and  left  large 
gratuities  for  them ;  this  would  rouse  the 
envy  of  the  neighbors,  and  the  envy  would 
carry  the  report  still  farther,  and  the  best 
of  it  was  that  they  would  all  be  deceived. 

Sonnenkamp  whistled  softly,  a  sure  sign 
that  he  was  particularly  cheerful  and  con- 
I  tented.    He  devoted  himself  with  special 
J  attention  to  the  Aunt,  praised  her  modesty 
and  the  Prince's  insight  in  knowing  how  to 
I  value  her  as  she  deserved.    It  seemed  really 
j  to  delight  him  to  see  people  decline  praise 
which  really  tickled  them  excessively. 

On  the  next  evening  but  one,  when  the 
Aunt  and  Manna  went  out  upon  the  flat 
roof  to  look  at  the  stars,  they  found  an 
excellent  telescope  placed  on  a  movable 
stand.  When  they  thanked  Sonnenkamp 
for  this  surprise,  he  asked  in  return  only 
one  favor,  that  Fraulein  Dournay  would 
accompany  the  family  to  Carlsbad ;  but  she 
declined  positively,  as  the  Professorin  also 
did. 

Pranken  had  come  back ;  he  thought  it 
absurd  to  appear  offended,  and  to  do  this 
tutor  the  honor  of  looking, upon  him  as  a 
rival.  He  was  made  happy  by  the  uncon- 
strained and  cordial  greeting  he  received 
from  Manna,  who  treated  him  .with  more 
familiarity  than  ever  before. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said  to  her,  "  that  you 
have  something  of  the  sphinx  in  you,  like 
other  women.  I  was  mistaken  in  you,  and 
am  rejoiced  that  I  was  mistaken.  What  is 
puzzling  and  constantly  offering  new  prob- 
lems, keeps  life  fresh." 

Manna  did  not  understand  him,  but  she 
asked  for  no  explanation ;  she  only  told 
him  with  regret  that  the  Aunt  and  the  Pro- 
fessorin were  not  going  with  them  to  Carls- 
bad. Pranken  thought  this  very  proper, 
and  Manna  looked  at  him  in  surprise  when 
he  spoke  of  the  pretensions  of  these  Hugue- 
nots. 

"  And  Herr  Dournay,"  he  added,  "  will 
he  stay  behind  also,  declining  as  firmly  and 
decidedly  as  he  did  to  go  to  Vichy  last 
year  ?  " 

"*  I  don't  know,"  answered  Manna. 
"Papa,"  she  called  out  to  her  father,  who 
came  up  just  then,  "  is  Herr  Captain  Dour- 
nay going  with  us  to  the  Baths  ?  " 


356 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHJNE. 


"  Certainly.  lie  belongs  to  the  family, 
and  understands  that  he  does ;  he  has  not 
objeeted  for  a  moment." 

Tranken  was  in  some  embarrassment; 
he  took  this  compliance  quite  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  added  that  perhaps  Herr 
Captain  .Dournay —  emphasizing  the  title, 
would  find  his  friend,  the  negro  Adams,  the 
Prince's  footman,  at  Carlsbad,  and  would 
be  able  to  perfect  the  intimacy  which  he 
had  begun  here.  Pranken  hoped,  perhaps, 
to  bring  out  some  cutting  remark  about 
Eric,  but,  to  his  surprise,  neither  Sonnen- 
kamp nor  Manna  answered  a  word  :  he  was 
forced  to  wind  up  the  subject,  by  saying 
that  these  atheists  and  democrats  must  of 
course  disorganize  all  social  arrangements, 


and  fraternize  with  a  negro ;  it  was  only 
praiseworthy  in  Herr  Dournay  to, act  con- 
sistently with  his  principles. 

Bella  and  Clodwig  only  just  made  a  pass- 
ing call,  to  say  that  they  were  going  to 
Carlsbad  and  should  be  very  glad  to  meet 
their  friends  there. 

Bella  was  especially  animated  in  her  ex- 
pressions of  pleasure  at  the  idea  of  meeting 
them  constantly  for  weeks  together ;  she 
promised  herself  and  her  friends  great 
enjoyment,  ancf  was  enough  at  her  ease  to 
say  jokingly  to  Eric,  that  if  a  charity-con- 
cert was  given,  at  which  she  played,  he  must 

sin«\ 

Eric  assented,  without  the  least  embar- 
rassment. 


THE  COUNTKY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


357 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  PRIDE  OF  OUR  PLANET. 

The  season  at  Carlsbad  was  unusually 
brilliant.  Seldom  had  so  many  of  the  no- 
bility and  so  many  adventurers  assembled 
at  the  Baths.  To  the  second  class,  but 
perhaps  also  to  the  first,  belonged  Sonnen- 
kamp, who  arrived  with  a  great  retinue,  wife 
and  daughter,  son,  tutor,  gouvernante,  and  a 
numbe:*  of  servants,  the  latter,  however, 
not  dressed  in  livery,  but  modestly,  in  plain 
citizens1  clothes. 

The  Count,  as  well  as  Clodwig  and  Bella, 
had  been  at  the  Baths  a  week  when  Son- 
nenkamp's  household  arrived.  Clodwig 
took  his  young  friend,  with  some  solemnity, 
to  the  spring,  and  told  how  he  himself  had 
once  been  brought  thereby  the  philosopher, 
Schelling,  who  said  to  him, — 

"  Behold !  this  spring  is  the  pride  of  our 
planet." 

All  conventional  distinctions  must  cease 
before  such  a  fountain  of  health  as  this, 
Clodwig  added,  for  it  says  to  us,  —  You 
must  leave  your  lofty  and  your  lowly  dwell- 
ings ;  in  my  presence,  all  are  alike  high-born 
and  low-born.  Clodwig  had  already  caught 
the  liberal  tone. 

On  the  very  day  of  Sonnenkamp's  arrival, 
a  guest  was  departing  whose  modesty  was 
equal  to  the  consideration  in  which  he  was 
held ;  it  was  Weidmann.  Eric  met  him 
just  as  he  was  drinking  his  last  draught 
from  the  spring.  The  relations  between 
the  Sovereign  and  this  President  of  the  rep- 
resentatives, an  unyielding  opposer  of  the 
Court  policy,  long  furnished  matter  of  con- 
versation among  the  guests  ;  the  Sovereign 
had  twice  invited  him  to  his  table,  and  ad- 
dressed him  several  times  when  they  had 
met  upon  the  morning  walk.  Statisticians 
differed  somewhat  in  regard  to  the  latter 
point,  some  maintaining  that  these  morning 
conversations  had  taken  place  twice,  others 
that  they  had  occurred  as  often  as  thrice,  or 
even  four  times. 

Again  Eric's  meeting  with  Weidmann 
was  short  and  unsatisfactory,  and  he  disliked 
to  be  always  reiterating  his  intention  of  vis- 
iting him. 

Clodwig  also  presented  Eric  at  once  to 
an  old  friend  of  his,  a  well-known  banker 
of  liberal  education  from  the  great  business 
capital,  whom  he  met  every  year  at  some 
baths,  either  at  Gastein  or  Ostend,  if  not 
here,  and  with  whom,  on  such  occasions,  he 
always  spent  many  hours  of  the  day.  The 
two  men  were  both  seventy  years  old,  but 
the  Banker  had  all  the  restlessness  of  youth  ; 
he  was  as.  eager  for  knowledge  as  a  German 
student,  and  as  talkative  as  a  Frenchman 


in  a  railway  carriage.  Clodwig,  on  the 
other  hand,  preserved  always  a  great  repose 
of  manner,  hardly  ever  speaking  when  in 
motion,  but  always  «topping  if  he  had  any- 
thing to  say,  or  any  reply  to  make  to  the 
remarks  of  a  friend. 

The  Banker  took  pains  to  tell  Eric,  early 
in  their  acquaintance,  that  he  was  a  Jew. 

Owing,  doubtless,  to  the  warm  commen- 
dations Xhat  Clodwig  had  bestowed  upon  his 
young  friend,  the  old  man  took  advantage 
of  every  opportunity  of  being  in  his  com- 
pany, a  complaisance  which  Eric  did  not 
reciprocate,  he  not  being  accustomed  to 
play  the  part  of  listener  rather  than  of 
speaker,  and  feeling  moreover  jealous  of 
the  banker,  who  engrossed  so  much  of  Clod- 
wig's  time,  when  he  had  depended  on  en- 
joying the  Count's  society  himself  every 
day  during  their  visit  here. 

At  the  breakfast-table,  the  Prince  and 
Countess  Bella  were  as  usual  a  frequent 
subject  of  conversation ;  they  were  served 
up  with  the  favorite  dish  of  delicate  pastry. 
A  more  interesting  topic  than  even  the 
Countess's  toilette  were  the  frequent,  almost 
daily  walks,  which  the  Prince  took  in  her 
company,  apparently  much  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  both  parties,  as  the  King  was  often 
heard  laughing  at  her  ready  sallies.  Clod- 
wig also  could  congratulate  himself  on  hav- 
ing received  many  marks  of  favor. 

Bella  established  a  little  court  of  her  own. 
She  breakfasted  with  a  company  of  chosen 
friends  in  the  open  air,  where  every  one 
could  see  her,  and  her  table  was  always 
adorned  with  the  choicest  flowers.  It  was 
even  said  that  the  bands  played  a  waltz  of 
her  composition. 

The  Wine-Cavalier  also  spent  a  few  days 
at  the  Baths,  and  the  painter  Potiphar,  as 
Bella  called  him,  because  he  had  the  misfor- 
tune to  be  surnamed  Tailor.  This  was  the 
fourth  watering-place  that  the  Cavalier  had 
honored  this  summer  with  his  studied  ele- 
gance, his  private  album,  and  his  neat  little 
anecdotes.  His  only  object  in  coming  to 
Carlsbad  was,  as  he  often  repeated,  to  pay 
his  respects  to  his  highly  esteemed  neigh- 
bors. Bella  received  him  coldly,  and  Clod- 
wig pleaded  business  as  an  excuse  for  seeing 
but  little  of  him,  so  that  after  playing  a  few 
games  with  a  famous  chess-player  who  was 
among  the  visitors,  he  departed. 

The  painter  Potiphar  zealously  instructed 
Eric  in  the  private  histories  of  all  the  men 
and  women  who  were  drinking  the  waters, 
and  his  companion's  ignorance  and  innocence 
in  these  interesting  matters  were  a  marvel  to 
him. 

When  Sonnenkamp  met  Bella  and  the 
Prince  walking  together,  as  he  did  every 


358 


THE  .  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


day,  Bella  nodded  graciously,  and  the 
King  also  bowed  silently,  but  in  spite  of  the 
frequency  of  their  meeting  ne\ner  addressed 
him. 

The  Cabinetsrath  was  present  as  one  of 
the  Court,  and  with  him  and  an  experienced 
officer  of  police,  who  always  hovered  about 
the  sovereign  at  a  distance,  Sonnenkamp 
usually  took  his  morning  walk. 

Pranken,  who  had  his  own  independent 
lodging,  but  joined  himself  to  the  Sonnen- 
kamp party,  was  soon  initiated  into  the  life 
of  the  various  groups. 

A  beautiful  Wallachian,  who  always  went 
about  dressed  in  deep  mourning,  with  a 
black  veil  upon  her  head,  and  spoke  to  no 
one,  contested  with  Sonnenkamp  the  glory 
of  being  the  most  remarkable  object  of  the 
season.  It  was  said  that  the  handsome 
stranger  had  had  the  misfortune  to  discover, 
soon  after  her  marriage,  that  her  husband 
had  another  wife. 

Manna  took  no  part  in  the  morning  gaie- 
ties at  the  spring ;  after  holy  mass,  she  re- 
mained in  the  house,  spending  a  great  por- 
tion of  her  time  in  practising  on  the  harp, 
for  which  purpose  she  had  chosen  a  room 
out  of  hearing  of  the  other  visitors. 

Frau  Ceres  awakened  general  excitement, 
by  being  taken  to  the  spring  every  morning 
in  a  chair  on  wheels.  In  her  lap  she  always 
held  a  little  dog,  and  in  her  hand  a  fresh 
rose. 

Pranken  was  assiduous  in  his  attention  to 
her,  and  Fraulein  Perini  never  failed  to 
walk  by  her  side.  At  noon,  Frau  Ceres 
appeared  beautifully  dressed  among  the 
promenaders.  . 

All  the  visitors  at  the  spring  were  aston- 
ished at  this,  and  every  morning  all  eyes 
followed  her,  in  wonder  at  her  allowing 
herself  to  be  wheeled  through  the  crowd, 
though  she  was  in  perfeet  health.  But  the 
lady  was  unconscious  of  the  anger  she 
excited,  and  only  rejoiced  in  what  seemed 
to  her  the  general  admiration. 

After  the  first  three  days,  Eric  forbade 
his  pupil  to  go  to  the  spring  in  the  morn- 
ing, a  regulation  which  Sonnenkamp  remon- 
strated against,  feeling  a  pride  in  the 
universal  admiration  the  handsome  boy 
received.  But  Eric  declared  that  it  was 
impossible  to  attend  to  studies  after  hearing 
music  in  the  morning,  and  the  two  there- 
fore remained  by  themselves.  Whenever 
they  appeared  abroad,  however,  men  and 
women  alike  agreed  that  they  had  never 
seen  a  handsomer  boy,  or  a  man  of  more 
attractive  appearance. 

Pranken  often  complained  that  the  ex- 
traordinary favor  shown  him  by  the  Sover- 


eign obliged  him  often  to  spend  whole  days 
away  from  his  friends. 

Sonnenkamp  could  boast  of  being  re- 
ceived into  the  most  select  society,  thanks 
to  the  influence  of  Bella,  It  was  no  mat- 
ter to  him  that  the  aristocracy  said  among 
themselves  that  a  bath-acquaintance  did 
not  necessitate  any  subsequent  relation 
with  a  man.  He  hoped,  nay,  he  was 
almost  sure,  that  during  his  stay  here  at 
Carlsbad,  the  first  step  would  be  taken 
that  should  put  him  on  an  equality  with  the 
best ;  in  the  meanwhile  he  conducted  him- 
self in  the  most  free  and  easy  manner,  as 
a  peer  among  peers. 

Already  his  relations  to  Bella  had  as- 
sumed a  character  which  added  a  fresh 
interest  to  his  life  here.  They  had  always 
been  secretly  attracted  together,  chiefly 
by  admiration  of  a  certain  heroic  power 
which  each  saw  to  exist  in  the  other,  and 
which  each  held  to  be  the  one  mark  of  dis- 
tinction from  the  masses.  This  daily  inter- 
course now  revealed  more  distinctly  to 
them  what  they  had  only  glimpses  of  during 
the  winter  in  the  capital. 

Both  agreed  perfectly  in  looking  upon 
all  communities,  all  human  society,  as  noth- 
ing but  a  tacit  agreement  to  tell  lies :  no 
one  believes  his  neighbor,  no  one  honors 
his  neighbor ;  all  that  is  valued  is  a  certain 
outside  show,  a  humbug,  which  must  be 
kept  up  as  long  as  it  can ;  no  one,  except  a 
few  idiots  of  teachers  or  idealists,  actually 
believes  in  the  idols  of  his  own  constructing. 

Sonnenkamp  admired  Bella  extremely, 
and  maintained  that  she  was  the  only  wo- 
man of  spirit  and  intellect  he  had  ever  met, 
a  declaration  which  both  knew  to  be  true, 
in  spite  of  their  agreeing  that  all  fair  words 
were  nothing  but  lying  conventionalities. 
Bella  knew  that  she  had  spirit,  and  ac- 
knowledged Sonnenkamp's  right  to  bear  wit- 
ness to  it. 

He  repeatedly  gave  her  to  understand 
that  he  alone  appreciated  the  greatness  of 
her  nature. 

"The  man  who  should  have  a  wife  like 
you,11  he  once  said  openly  to  her,  "  and 
were  himself  a  man  —  a  dominant  nature 
with  a  wife  like  you  would  establish  a 
new  throne  in  the  world.  I  consider  it  a 
privilege  to  have  been  allowed  to  know  a 
nature  so  born  to  rule  as  yours.11 

He  said  it  half  in  a  tone  of  gallantry,  but 
she  knew  he  meant  it  in  earnest,  and  she 
took  it  in  earnest,  being  full  of  contempt 
for  the  pettinesses  of  the  world,  where  half 
the  people  found  pleasure  in  intrigue,  and 
the  other  half  in  what  they  call  humanity, 
which  is  really  nothing  but  sentimentality. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


359 


Their  mutual  salutations,  therefore,  if 
they  only  met  and  passed,  were  significant, 
and  implied  a  secret  understanding.  Their 
glance  said :  We  alone  are  strong,  and  we 
are  great  enough  to  scorn  all  trifling. 

One  beautiful  July  morning  Bella  gave 
a  great  breakfast,  to  which  the  Sonnenkamp 
family  was  invited,  and  Manna  came  with 
her  mother ;  there  were  also  present  the 
Cabinetsrathin,  the  Adjutant-general,  be- 
sides several  others  of  the  highest  nobility, 
botL  gentlemen  and  ladies,  from  different 
countries. 

The  rich  and  tasteful  arrangement  of  the 
flowers  on  the  breakfast-table  excited  the 
admiration  of  the  guests.  Bella  presented 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  as  the  generous  and 
skilful  giver,  and,  with  great  tact,  called 
the  attention  of  the  guests  to  the  admirable 
taste  in  arranging  flowers  possessed  by  I 
this  famous  garden-artist,  whom  she  even 
proclaimed  the  true  high  priest  of  flowers. 

Sonnenkamp  was  delighted  at  the  impres- 
sion produced. 

Manna  timidly  remarked  that  her  taste 
was  offended  by  the  profusion  of  flowers 
displayed  here  on  all  occasions ;  she 
thought  that  massing  them  together,  arid 
tying  them  into  close  bunches,  destroyed  the 
whole  character  of  the  flowers,  of  roses 
especially ;  their  tender  nature  suffered 
from  such  treatment. 

Eric  replied  that,  without  these  flowers, 
life  here  would  lose  an  important  element 
of  brilliancy  and  cheerfulness ;  that  the 
purest  and  best  things  were  not  safe  from 
abuse  and  exaggeration,  but  that  we  should 
not  therefore  lose  sight  of  the  beautiful 
underlying  principle. 

Pranken  observed  the  impression  which 
these  words  made,  and  gave  a  more  lively 
turn  to  the  conversation,  by  saying  that  he 
too  did  not  like  bouquets  ;  flowers,  birds, 
and  women  were  the  ornaments  of  life,  and 
should  be  dealt  tenderly  with  and  left  un- 
confined. 

Jest  and  merriment  now  reigned  su- 
preme. All  were  in  that  happy  frame  of 
mind  which  is  induced  by  the  drinking  of 
the  waters  and  the  fresh  morning  air. 
There  was  not  wanting  an  object  on  which 
to  exercise  their  wit,  in  the  person  of  a  long 
lieutenant  from  Schwarzburg-Sondershau- 
sen.  or  Schwarzhausen-Sonderburg,  as 
Bella  always  called  it.  The  long  lieutenant 
had  openly  confessed  that  his  object  in 
coming  to  the  Baths  was  to  bless  the  daugh- 
ter of  some  rich  commoner  with  his  title. 
He  had  made  Bella  his  confidante,  and  she 
amused  herself  now  by  bringing  him  into 
all  manner  of  ridiculous  positions. 

The  tall  lieutenant  took  it  all  in  good 


part ;  his  standing  joke  was  that  he  regret- 
ted, on  his  honor,  Roland's  not  being  Son- 
nenkamp's  daughter,  that  he  might  marry 
her. 

.  Manna  blushed,  for  this  plainly  implied 
that  she  was  considered  betrothed  to 
Pranken. 

There  was  a  good  .deal  of  gossip  about 
some  of  the  guests  at  the  Baths,  their  loose 
and  frivolous  lives,  all  of  which  Manna 
listened  to  with  the  rest,  secretly  thinking 
all  the  while :  It  is  well  to  know  all  the  dis- 
cord and  confusion  of  the  wicked  world 
before  leaving  it  forever. 

Eric  divined  that  some  such  thought  was 
in  her  mind,  and  said  in  a  low  tone  :  — 

"In  the  Bible  God  says  that  he  will 
spare  Sodom,  if  a  few  righteous  persons  are 
found  in  it.    And  so  it  is  now.    The  sun 
[  shines,  the  birds  sing,  the  flowers  bloom, 
and  the  world  is  better  than  it  seems." 

"So  you  are  a  believer  too?1'  asked 
Manna  softly. 

"  Yes  ;  but  in  a  different  way  from  yours." 
On  rising  from  table,  Clodwig,  Sonnen- 
kamp, Eric,  Roland,  and  the  Banker,  started 
on  a  long  walk  in  the  woods,  while  Bella 
kept  Manna  by  her.  Pranken  also  staid 
behind  with  the  ladies,  being  excused  to- 
day from  attendance  on  the  Prince. 

Bella  had  succeeded  in  getting  invita- 
tions for  Sonnenkamp  and  his  family  to  the 
next  assembly,  at  which  only  the  first  no- 
bility of  Europe  were  to  be  present,  and 
began  to  talk  over  with  Manna  the  dress 
she  should  wear  on  the  occasion.  Manna 
had  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  at  home, 
but  this  was  declared  impossible,  and  she 
had  been  obliged  to  consent  to  appear. 

Meanwhile  the  men  were  taking  their 
walk  through  the  woods.!  Eric  had  joined 
Clodwig  at  once,  and  made  him  smile  by 
saying  that  he  had  never  before  participa- 
ted in  the  gaieties  of  a  watering-place,  and 
that  the  life  here  almost  bewildered  him. 
He  wondered  whether  it  would  be  possible 
to  induce  men  to  go,  for  a  few  weeks  of 
every  year,  to  some  place  for  the  cure  of 
their  souls.  In  this  care  for  the  bodily 
health  was  exhibited  a  selfishness  which  the 
world  usually  took  pains  to  conceal.  Clod- 
wig had  remained  standing,  while  Eric  thus 
spoke. 

"  You  will  never  feel  quite  at  home  in 
the  world,"  he  answered,  continuing  his 
walk. 

Af  a  turn  in  the  road,  Eric  fell  back  and 
allowed  Sonnenkamp  to  go  in  front  with 
Clodwig.  There  was  something  at  once  at- 
tractive' and  repulsive  to  Clodwig  in  the 
society  of  Sonnenkamp.  He  had  never 
seen  such  a  man  before,  and  was  chiefly  im- 


360 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


pressed  by  the  sort  of  courage  he  possessed 
in  assuming  no  foreign  disguise. 

Sonnenkamp  made  another  attempt  to  in- 
duce the  Count  to  use  his  influence  in  pro- 
curing him  a  title,  but  was  treated  as  he 
never  before  had  been  in  his  life,  by  receiv- 
ing a  most  crushing  answer  couched  in 
words  of  courtesy. 

"  I  am  amazed  at  your  courage  and  for- 
bearance," he  said ;  but  the  idea  conveyed 
by  the  words  was  :  I  detest  your  insolence 
and  importunity. 

"  You  are  indefatigable,  and  may  stand 
on  an  equality  with  the  rulers,1'  were  the 
words,  b*t  the  meaning  was :  You  are  a 
shameless  tyrant. 

Sonnenkamp  had  experienced  many 
strange  things  in  his  life,  but  never  this 
lashing  a  man  to  madness  with  courteous 
words.  He  kept  a  smiling  countenance, 
however,  not  daring  to  show  any  sense  of 
injury,  while  Clodwig  maintained  a  calm 
superiority,  tapping  occasionally  on  his 
golden  snuff-box,  as  if  saying  to  all  the 
tickling  spirits  within  :  Have  patience  ;  the 
man  is  getting  a  strong  dose.  Finally  he 
opened  the  box  and  offered  Sonnenkamp  a 
pinch,  which  the  latter  accepted  with  thanks. 

Eric  meanwhile  was  walking  with  the 
Banker.  There  was  one  point  of  common 
interest  between  them,  their  admiration  of 
Clodwig.  The  Banker  maintained  that 
scarce  any  one  but  a  man  of  rank-  could  be 
so  independent  and  thoroughly  human. 

Roland  cast  a  glance  at  Eric  which 
seemed  to  say  :  You  see  this  man  says  the 
same  thing. 

Eric  zealously  opposed  this  idea,  and  the 
Banker,  who  assumed  a  rather  patronizing 
tone  in  conversing  with  the  young  scholar, 
was  easily  converted,  and  broke  out  into 
enthusiastic  praise  of  Eric. 

A  great  pleasure  was  awaiting  Eric  on 
his  return  from  his  morning  walk,  in  the 
arrival  of  his  friend  and  teacher,  Professor 
Einsiedel. 

The  poor  man  of  science  felt  himself  quite 
lost  and  helpless  in  such  a  place  as  Carls- 
bad, whither  he  had  been  ordered  by  his 
fellow-professor,  the  first  physician  of  the 
University.  Eric  made  the  necessary  ar- 
rangements for  his  board  and  lodging,  and 
whatever  else  he  needed,  feeling  it  a  privi- 
lege to  serve  him  in  every  way  in  his 
power. 

AYhile  standing  with  his  teacher,  Eric 
perceived  Sonnenkamp  in  the  distance  talk- 
ing with  Professor  Crutius,  who  had  just 
arrived.  Crutius  seemed  unwilling  to  ac- 
cept Sonnenkamp's  friendly  advances,  and 
yet  could  find  no  way  of  avoiding  them. 
When   Sonnenkamp   offered   his  hand  at  I 


parting,  however,  he  did  not  take  it,  but 
raised  his  hat  instead  with  a  formal  salute. 

Eric  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  a  room 
for  his  teacher  in  the  same  house  with  his 
own  party. 

CIIAPTER  XIII. 
A  WHIRL  OF   BODY  AND  MIND. 

Beautifully  dressed,  with  flowers  in  her 
hair,  Manna  walked  to  and  fro  in  the  great 
drawing-room.  The  sight  of  her  uncovered 
neck  and  shoulders  in  the  long  mirror 
seemed  to  shock  her,  and  she  drew  more 
closely  about  her  the  encircling  cloud  of 
tulle.  Roland  and  Eric  entered.  Eric 
stood  motionless. 

"  How  late  you  are  ! 11  said  Manna. 
Eric  explained  that  he  had  been  intro- 
ducing his  teacher  to  the  routine  of  water- 
ing-place life,  and  expressed  the  hope  that 
Manna  would  enjoy  the  society  of  the  deli- 
cate-minded old  man. 

"Your  teacher?1'  said  Manna,  and 
again  Eric  noticed  the  tears  in  her  voice. 
"Introduce  me  to  him  to-morrow.  But 
now  make  haste,  or  you  will  be  late  to  the 
assembly." 

"I  am  not  invited,11  replied  Eric. 
44  No !  he  is  not  invited,  and  so  I  am  not 
going  either,11  cried  Roland. 

The  father  and  mother  appeared,  but 
their  persuasions  had  no  effect  upon  the 
boy.  He  would  not  even  yield  to  Eric's 
urgent  entreaty,  but  persisted  in  remaining 
behind.  After  the  family  had  actually 
driven  off  to  the  Hall,  Roland  appeared  to 
regret  not  having  gone  with  them,  and  in- 
sisted on  Eri^s  taking  him  to  the  gallery, 
whenee  they  could  see  the  dancing. 

Pranken  was  manager  of  the  assembly, 
and  Manna  shared  the  distinction  with  him. 
Her  cheeks  glowed,  and  she  seemed  in  great 
spirits,  but  to  Roland's  vexation,  she  did 
not  once  look  up  to  the  gallery.  Manna,  in 
fact,  hardly  knew  herself.  In  the  midst  of 
the  gaiety,  she  said  to  Pranken  :  — 

"  Did  you  know  that  Captain  Dournay's 
teacher  had  arrived  ?  " 

Pranken  knit  his  brows.  So  she  was 
thinking  of  him  in  the  midst  of  this  gaiety ! 
He  was  silent  for  awhile,  not  knowing  what 
to  reply  ;  at  last  he  said  in  a  light  tone  : — 
"Ah,  teacher!  Don't  you  get  tired  of 
this  whole  pack  of  teachers  ?  Here  we  have 
pleasing  music,  dancing, —  come  !  " 

He  whirled  her  swiftly  among  the  circle 
of  dancers,  and  she  felt  as  if  she  were  no 
longer  upon  the  ground,  but  were  floating 
in  the  air. 

"  Let  us  go  ! 11  said  Roland  to  Eric  in  the 
i  gallery.    They  left  the  hall,  and  took  by 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


361 


moonlight  the  same  beautiful  walk  through 
the  forest  that  they  had  enjoyed  in  the 
morning. 

"  Is  there  no  way  in  which  I  may  relieve 
myself  of  a  secret  that  has  been  confided  to 
me  ?  "  asked  Eoland.  "  I  should  so  like  to 
talk  it  over  with  you !  May  1  not  tell  it 
you  ?  " 

"No,  you  must  not  under  any  circum- 
stances break  your  word.  If  you  did,  you 
would  lose  all  hold  upon  yourself." 

Roland  sighed ;  he  sorely  wanted  to  tell 
Eric  that  his  family  was  to  receive  a  title. 

When  they  came  out  upon  the  clearing, 
and  saw  the  town  and  the  whole  valley  ly- 
ing in  the  moonlight,  and  heard  a  few  broken 
strains  of  music  from  the  ball-room  rising 
through  the  night  air,  Roland  returned  to 
the  subject :  — 

M  I  have  an  idea  that  this  evening  Manna 
is  to  be  openly  acknowledged  as  Pranken's 
bride.  My  mother  thinks  that  that  will 
help  forward  the  accomplishment  of  the  other 
secret.    Can  you  not  guess  what  it  is  ?  " 

Eric  replied  with  great  self-control,  that  it 
was  not  honorable  of  Roland  to  speak  of 
any  family  matters  that  had  been  confided 
to  him. 

He  spoke  with  a  trembling  voice.  This 
thing,  which  had  been  so  long  decided,  sud- 
denly came  upon  him  as  something  new, 
unheard  of,  improbable.  With  rapture  and 
yet  with  fear,  he  perceived  that  he  had  al- 
lowed Manna  to  become  dearer  to  him  than 
he  ought.  He  buried  the  point  of  his  cane 
deep  in  the  ground,  and  pressed  upon  it  so 
violently  that  it  broke  to  pieces  in  his  hand. 
He  told  Roland  it  was  time  they  went  home. 

The  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door  just  as 
they  reached  the  house,  and  out  of  it  came 
Sonnenkamp,  followed  by  Frau  Ceres  and 
Manna. 

"  Are  you  betrothed  to  Pranken  ?  "  asked 
Roland. 

"  You  silly  child  !  "  returned  Manna,  as 
she  ran  quickly  up  the  steps. 

Sonnenkamp  sent  Roland  to  bed,  and 
asked  Eric  to  go  with  him  into  his  room. 

"Here  is  a  mild  brand  of  cigar,1'  he  said, 
throwing  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair, 
'*  light  one.  Captain  Dournay,  I  look  upon 
you  as  one  of  the  family  ;  you  are  ours,  and 
must  ever  remain  so." 

Eric  trembled.  Had  the  father's  suspic- 
ions been  roused  by  Roland's  awkward 
question,  and  was  he  about  to  tell  him  that 
he  must  giv«  up  all  thought  of  Manna  ? 
Or  was  he  about  to  offer  him  his  daughter's 
hand  ?  He  had  time  enough  to  entertain 
these  opposing  thoughts,  for  Sonnenkamp 
made  a  lon<*  pause;  in  the  evident  expecta- 
tion of  receiving  some  answer  to  his  friendly 


address.  But  as  his  companion  remained 
silent,  he  got  up,  and  after  taking  several 
turns  up  and  down  the  room,  suddenly 
stopped  before  Eric  and  said  : — 

"  I  give  you  to-day  the  most  indubitable 
proof  that  I  consider  you  one  of  ourselves. 
Give  me  your  hand." 

Eric  did  so,  and  shuddered  as  he  touched 
the  iron  ring  on  the  man's  thumb. 

Sonnenkamp  continued : — 

"  I  recognize  and  honor  your  reserve." 

Eric's  eyes  wandered  uneasily.  What 
did  all  this  mean  ? 

After  several  hasty  puffs  at  his  cigar, 
Sonnenkamp  continued : — 

"  You  have  never,  in  any  way,  alluded  to 
what  has  been  going  on  among  us,  though 
you  cannot  have  failed  to  be  aware  of  it." 

Eric  .still  trembled.  Sonnenkamp  kept 
making  such  unusual  pauses. 

At  last,  bringing  the  words  out  with  an 
effort,  he  said : — 

"  You  know  that  I  am  about-to  receive  a 
title  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  not  know  it." 

"You  did  not?  Is  it  possible?  Did 
Roland  give  you  no  hint  ?  " 

"A  hint  indeed  of  some  secret,  but  I 
strictly  forbade  him  to  relate,  even  by  a 
breath,  any  confidence  that  had  been  re- 
posed in  him." 

"Good.  You're  a  good  teacher.  Iam 
grateful  to  you,  sincerely  grateful.  I  will 
be  yet  more  so.  You  shall  have  proof  of  it. 
To  be  open  with  you,  Captain  Dournay  — 
you  can  give  me  substantial  help  by  fur- 
thering this  plan  of  mine." 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you.  You  are  the  friend  of  our 
noble  Count  Wolfsgarten.  He  is  already 
one  of  our  family,  but  he  always  declines  to 
discuss  this  matter,  when  I,  or  any  of  my 
friends,  address  him  upon  the  subject. 
You  know  me,  my  dear  Captain  ;  you  have 
watched  my  life,  and  your  eye  is  keen ;  I 
have  a  right  to  expect  that,  with  all  my 
faults,  of  which,  unhappily,  I  have  my  share, 
you  will  judge  of  me  justly  and  charitably. 
You  are  a  man  who  will  act  as  he  thinks. 
You  understand  me  ?  " 

"  Not  entirely,  I  confess/' 

"  Plainly,  then,  in  a  few  days  I  shall  give 
a  rural  fete  at  Heilingthal.  I  will  take  the 
Jew  with  me,  and  you  can  go  with  your 
friend  Wolfsgarten,  and  can  easily  discover 
what  sort  of  opinion  he  will  give  of  me,  or 
has  already  given." 

"'Would  not  Herr  von  Pranken,  or  the 
Countess,  or  the  Cabinetsrathin,  be  better 
suited  for  such  an  office  ?  " 

"No;  in  that  case  I  should  not  trouble 
you  with  it.    Count  Wolfsgarten  has  de- 


362 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


clined  expressing  any  opinion,  saying  al- 
ways in  his  pedantic  —  I  mean  in  his  strict- 
ly honorable  manner,  that  a  judgment  which 
is  to  be  expressed  in  confidence  to  the 
Prince  should  be  made  known  to  no  one 
else.  In  a  few  days  the  Prince  will  depart ; 
he  is  favorably  disposed.  You  will  there- 
fore discover  this  for  me,  dear  Dournay, 
will  you  not  ?    It  will  be  so  easy  for  you  !  11 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp, 11  replied  Eric,  "  you 
had  the  kindness  to  say  a  few  moments  ago 
that  I  did  right  in  forbidding  Roland  to  be- 
tray a  secret.    How  shall  I  11 

"Ah,  my  dear  Dournay,11  interrupted 
Sonnenkamp,  "we  may  reasonably  allow 
ourselves  many  things  that  we  should  forbid 
a  young  person  to  do.  I  respect,  I  honor 
your  truthfulness.  I  acknowledge  the  great 
sacrifice  you  would  make  in  rendering  me 
this  service  fully,  thoroughly,  but  you  will 
make  the  sacrifice,  will  you  not?  11 

Eric  tried  to  decline  the  task.  Sonnen- 
kamp threvf  his  head  back,  and  whistled 
softly  to  himself,  while  Eric  maintained  with 
great  earnestness  that  he  was  not  good  at 
sounding  others1  opinions,  and  that  he  should 
consider  it  a  betrayal  of  friendship  to  repeat 
anything  which  was  said  to  him  confiden- 
tially. "Besides,11  he  concluded,  "I  do 
not  think  that  Count  Wolfsgarten  would 
express  his  opinion  any  more  fully  to  me.11 

Sonnenkamp  was  inwardly  angry,  but 
summoned  all  his  powers  of  self-control  to 
his  aid.  He  praised  Eric's  conscientiousness  ; 
spoke  with  enthusiasm  of  his  delicate  tact, 
his  moral  purity,  and  the  loftiness  of  his 
ideal ;  he  went  so  far  as  to  apologize  for 
having  fancied,  even  for  a  moment,  that  Eric 
was  more  than  a  friend  to  Bella ;  his  un- 
happy experience  among  men,  he  said, 
must  serve  as  his  excuse  for  the  injustice ; 
he  considered  it  as  the  greatest  of  privileges 
to  have  been  once  allowed  the  acquaintance 
of  a  thoroughly  pure  and  noble  man. 

Eric  had  never  supposed  that  this  man 
knew  him  so  well ;  this  Sonnenkamp  must 
have  a  nobler  mind  than  he  had  given  him 
credit  for,  to  be  able  to  read  so  well  the 
noble  struggles  of  others. 

The  impression  he  had  made  was  not  lost 
upon  Sonnenkamp.  He  laid  his  hand  on 
Eri^s  shoulder,  and  said  with  a  trembling, 
almost  a  tearful  voice,  — 

"  My  dear  young  friend  !  Yes,  my  friend 
—  I  call  you  so,  for  you  are  such  —  even  if 
I  have  not  myself  the  right  to  claim  so  close 
an  intimacy  with  you  as  I  should  like,  con- 
sider what  a  great,  what  a  necessary  influ- 
ence indeed  you  may  exert  —  not  for  me; 
of  what  consequence  am  I  ?  —  but  for  our 
Roland.  For  our  Roland  ! 11  he  repeated 
siirnificantlv.  The  mention  of  Roland's  name 


suddenly  roused  Eric  as  from  a  dream. 
He  answered  by  asking  why  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp desired  a  title  for  Roland. 

"  Oh,  my  friend  !  11  Sonnenkamp  contin- 
ued with  increasing  affection,  "  that  is  the 
last,  the  only  object  of  all  my  efforts  in  the 
Old  World  and  in  the  New.  Oh,  my  friend  ! 
Who  can  tell  you  how  soon  I  may  die  ? 
You  will  remain  the  friend,  the  support  of 
my  son.  Give  me  your  hand  upon  it. 
Promise  me  you  will  so  continue.  I  shall 
'die  without  a  fear,  knowing  he  is  under 
your  protection.  Alas,  no  one  suspects 
how  ill,  how  shaken  I  am.  I  force  myself 
to  appear  firm  and  erect,  but  I  am  inwardly 
broken.  The  labors  and  struggles  of  life 
have  sapped  my  strength.  Any  moment 
may  end  my  life,  and  I  would  gladly  leave 
my  son  in  an  assured  position.  You,  my 
friend,  love  our  beautiful,  glorious  Germany  ; 
you  will  be  glad  to  secure  to  her  a  strong 
and  faithful  son.  Should  Roland  continue 
as  he  is,  should  he  preserve  his  present 
name,  he  will  always  consider  himself  a  cit- 
izen of  the  world  across  the  ocean,  not  a 
true  son  of  our  noble  Germany,  where  alone 
a  man  of  mind  and  of  means  can  find  a 
sphere  for  his  usefulness.  Forgive  me  if  I 
do  not  express  myself  as  warmly  as  I  feel, 
and  as  I  ought,  to  a  friend  like  you.  I  ouly 
ask  you  to  add  to  your  other  benefits  to 
Roland  that  of  making  him  a  son  of  Ger- 
many;  if  not  for  our  sakes,  yet  for  the  sake 
of  our  dear  country.11 

Sonnenkamp  well  knew  what  a  responsive 
strain  he  touched  in  Eric,  by  those  tender 
!  words  from  the  anxious  heart  of  a  father, 
;  and  by  this  broad,  reverent  outlook,  not  only 
I  beyond  his  own  death,  but  beyond  all 
thought  of  self.  Eric  was  touched,  and 
'  said :  ' 

"  I  would  give  my  life  for  Roland  11 

Sonnenkamp  would  have  embraced  him, 
but  Eric  begged  him  to  listen  further. 

"  My  life  I  can  give  up,  but  not  my  prin- 
ciples. I  am  willing  to  adopt  your  views 
of  the  matter  in  a  moment,  if  you  can  con- 
vince me  I  am  mistaken.    Do  you  really 

j  believe  that  it  would  add  to  Roland's  happi- 
ness to  have  a  title  ?  11 

"It  would  make  his  happiness;  without 
that  he  would  have  no  happiness.  Iam  sure 

I  you  will  not  misunderstand  me,  my  very  dear, 

[  noble  friend.  I  frankly  confess  to  you  that  I 
prize  money  highly  ;  I  have  worked  hard  for 
it,  and  should  like  to  keep  it ;  I  should  like  to 
convert  my  personal  property  into  real  estate, 

j  at  least  in  a  great  measure  :  I  want  my  son 
freelv  to  enjoy  what  I  have  toiled  with  un- 

!  remitting  industry  to  obtain.  Oh,  my  friend, 
you  do  not  know  —  it  is  better  you  should 
not  know  what  blows  my  life  has  borne,  be- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


363 


cause  I  —  but  no  more  of  that;  it  would 
agitate  me  too  much  to-day.  I  had  a  tutor 
—  a  shrewd  man,  but  unhappily  not  of  such 
moral  purity  as  yourself —  who,  I  remem- 
ber, often  said  to  me  :  He  only  is  free  who 
is  not  bound  to  the  same  level  with  others, 
but  is  entitled  to  be  judged  by  a  loftier  stand- 
ard. Ä  genius,  a  man  like  yourself,  my 
dear  friend,  is  by  nature  so  entitled ;  but 
all  are  not  geniuses.  Genius  is  unattaina- 
ble, therefore  do  men  seek  a  title  of  nobility 
that  posterity  may  judge  them  by  that  higher 
standard.  I  express  myself  clumsily,  do 
I  not?  51 

"  Xo  !  the  thought  is  subtilely  developed.1' 
"  Ah,  let  us  leave  all  subtleties.  But  I 
have  after  all  omitted  the  chief  point;  it  is 
well  I  remember  it.  It  was  you  who  first  di- 
rected my  thoughts  and  my  efforts  towards 
this  aim."  • 
"I?  How  so?" 

"  Let  me  remind  you.  On  the  first  day 
of  your  coming  among  us  you  told  me,  and 
you  have  often  repeated  it  since,  that  Ro- 
land had  no  special  talent  that  would  lead 
him  to  the  choice  of  a  profession.  The  re- 
mark offended  me  at  the  time,  but  I  see 
now  that  it  was  perfectly  true.  For  the 
very  reason  that  Roland  is  not  gifted  with 
genius,  he  must  take  rank  among  the  no- 
bility, have  a  title,  which  of  itself  gives  po- 
sition and  dignity  to  persons  of  average  ca- 
pacity, who  are  not  able  to  carve  out  their 
own  career.  A  nobleman  is  not  sensitive ; 
that  is  his  great  advantage.  A  baron  or  an 
earl  is  somebody  at  the  start,  and  is  not 
obliged  to  make  himself  somebody ;  if,  be- 
sides that,  he  has  any  gifts,  they  are  all 
clear  gain,  and  the  world  is  grateful  for 
them.  We  commoners  must  begin  by  mak- 
ing ourselves  something  ;  we  are  nothing  at 
the  start  except  sensitive,  thin-skinned. 
Ah,  my  dear  friend,  I  speak  very  confus- 
edly.11 

"  By  no  means." 

"  I  will  say  but  one  thing  more.  Roland 
will  at  some  time,  and  it  may  be  soon, 
enter  on  the  possession  of  millions  ;  if  he  is 
a  noble,  he  will  not  only  stand  in  the  circle 
of  the  select,  but  he  will  have  all  the  obli- 
gations of  honor,  of  benevolence,  of  useful- 
ness, and  will  have  them  in  a  higher  degree, 
because  he  will  be  one  newly  raised,  to 
rank.  I  open  my  whole  heart  to  you,  my 
friend  —  I  conceal  nothing.  Almost  the 
whole  inhabited  world  is  known  to  me,  and 
shall  I  tell  you  what  I  have  found  in  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  know.1' 

"  Know,  then,11  here  Sonnenkamp  laid 
both  hands  upon  Eric's  shoulder,  "  you  are 
a  philosopher,  a  deep  thinker  —  learn  some- 
thing from  me.1' 


"Willingly." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  then,  my  friend,  there 
are  three  classes  among  mankind,  each 
bound  so  closely  together  that  no  member 
stands  alone.  A  man  must  belong  to  one 
of  these  in  this  degenerate  world." 

He  paused  awhile,  and  then,  in  answer  to 
Eric's  questioning  glance,  continued  :  — 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  in  this  world  a  man 
must  be  either  a  Jew,  a  Jesuit,  or  a  noble. 
You  smile  ?  The  idea  surprises  you  ?  Let 
me  explain.  If  you  survey  the  whole  world 
you  will  find  that  each  one  of  these  three 
classes,  and  only  these,  forms  a  firm,  last- 
ing, indissoluble  union  among  its  members. 
My  son  cannot  be-  a  Jew,  a  Jesuit  he  shall 
not  be,  therefore  he  must  be  a  noble.11 

Eric  was  fairly  bewildered  by  Sonnen- 
kamp's  arguments.  He  strove  to  exercise 
his  own  freedom  of  thought,  but  he  saw  how 
immovably  Sonnenkamp's  mind  wras  made 
up,  and  looking  over  the  past,  he  perceived 
how  everything  had  been  tending  towards 
this  one  aim.  And  after  all,  might  it  not 
be  an  advantage  for  Roland  to  enter  the 
ranks  of  the  nobility  ?  Might  not  this  be 
the  only  means  of  establishing  a  home  for 
him  in  Germany  ? 

The  interview  lasted  till  far  into  the 
night,  Sonnenkamp  constantly  endeavoring 
to  prove  the  necessity  of  making  Roland  a 
noble,  and  Eric  at  last,  almost  from  sheer 
weariness,  promised  to  use  his  influence  with 
Clodwig.  He  got  no  rest  as  he  lay  in  bed  ; 
he  seemed  to  himself  a  traitor,  but  the  voice 
of  the  tempter  said  :  —  t 

"After  all,  it  is  not  you  who  can  bring 
it  about,  nor  he,  but  the  Prince.  Whether 
you  lend  your  aid  or  not,  the  thing  is  sure 
to  be  done.  Why  should  you  be  disoblig- 
ing and  ungrateful? 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
THE  TEAQHER^  TEACHER. 

"  Ball" — "  American" — "  Betrothed" 
—  was  heard  the  next  morning  at  the  spring 
in  all  the  different  languages,  for,  inconsis- 
tent as  it  may  seem,  winter  gayeties  are 
brought  into  a  place  frequented  only  by  in- 
valids. 

Frau  Ceres1  carriage  did  not  appear  at 
the  spring ;  she  had  a  tumbler  of  mineral 
water  brought  to  her  room. 

Before  the  altar  in  the  village  church  lay 
Manna,  long  after  the  mass  was  over,  study- 
ing her  own  heart.  She  cried  out  for  help, 
for  support  against  the  world  ;  she  remem- 
bered the  advice  of  the  Priest  to  make  free 
confession,  wherever  she  might  be,  to  a 
brother  or  a  father,  and  she  longed  to  con- 
fess here ;  but  she  did  not,  for  there  was 


364 


THE  COUNTRY-nOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


one  thing  she  could  not  tell.  For  the  first 
time,  she  left  the  church  with  a  burden  on 
her  heart. 

Eric  was  fighting  his  fight  with  himself 
out  upon  the  hills.  Sonnenkamp  had  spo- 
ken with  great  openness  to  him,  but  one 
thing  he  had  not  said,  that  Pranken  was 
waiting  till  Manna  was  titled  before  an- 
nouncing the  betrothal.  He  was  angry  with 
himself  for  having' allowed  the  idea  to  take 
possession  of  him,  and  perhaps  increase, 
though  unconsciously,  his  repugnance  to  the 
commission  laid  upon  him. 

The  sudden  calling  of  his  name  terrified 
him,  though  it  was  pronounced  by  a  gentle 
voice.  Looking  up  he  perceived  Professor 
Einsiedel  coming  towards  him.  What  bet- 
ter man  could  he  have  to  clear  up  his  doubts 
and  restore  his  peace  of  mind  ?  For  one 
moment,  he  entertained  the  thought  of  laying 
all  his  questions  before  the  pure  and  child- 
like, yet  clear  and  brave  spirit,  of  his  old 
friend  ;  but  neither  could  he  confess,  neither 
could  he  tell  all,  and  so  he  too  shut  his  se- 
cret in  his  own  heart. 

The  good  old  man  could  not  understand 
how  he  was  to  live  for  weeks  without  work, 
without  books,  doing  nothing  but  nurse  his 
body.  Such  a  cure  as  this,  he  said  with  a 
childlike  smile,  was  only  a  sickness  with  the 
ability  to  take  walks,  and  it  would  be  noth- 
ing worse  than  sickness  if  he  lay  in  bed. 

But  he  soon  turned'  the  conversation  from 
himself,  and  asked  Eric  about  his  studies, 
and  how  he  was  getting  on  with  his  great 
work  upon  slavery.  Before  Eric  could  an- 
swer, the  Professor  told  him  that  he  was 
continually  making  notes  upon  the  subject 
for  him,  and  that  one  of  the  most  striking 
things  he  had  met  with  was  the  decision 
with  which  Luther,  from  a  religious  point 
of  view,  had  expressed  himself  in  favor  of 
holding  slaves. 

"  I  do  not  blame  Luther,"  he  continued  ; 
"  he  adopted  the  views  of  his  day,  just  as 
others  in  other  generations  have  believed  in 
the  agency  of  evil  spirits.  The  language 
of  the  great  Bossuet  shows  how  much  the 
strongest  minds  were  influenced  by  the  gen- 
eral belief  of  the  time  ;  he  said  that  whoever 
denied  the  right  of  holding  slaves  sinned 
against  the  Holy  Ghost.  Perhaps  a  future 
generation  will  be  as  little  able  to  under- 
stand our  prejudices.'1 

Eric  found  in  this  morning  walk  a  satis- 
faction to  which  he  had  been  long  a  strang- 
er. Professor  Einsiedel  had  looked  cau- 
tiously about  him  as  he  walked,  as  if  fearing 
some  one  might  overhear  the  great  secret 
he  was- about  to  reveal.    At  last  he  said  :  — 

"Dear  Doctor,"  he  always  called  Eric 
Doctor,  "I  have  been  thinking  a  grdat 


deal  about  the  task  of  educating  a  rich  youth. 
The  absolutely  right  I  have  not  found ; 
that  can  exist  only  in  the  imagination.  But 
so  to  educate  a  human  being,  intellectually 
and  morally,  that  we  can  be  approximately 
sure  —  mark  you,  I  say  approximately  — 
that  we  can  be  approximately  sure,  or  have 
reason  to  believe,  that  in  any  given  case  he 
will  be  guided  by  pure  moral  laws,  that  is 
all  that  we  can  hope  to  do  ;  and  1  am  verb- 
rauch mistaken,  if  that  is  not  what  you  have 
already  succeeded  in  accomplishing  with 
regard  to  your  pupil.  As  far  as  I  know 
the  world,  — and  I  was  tutor  myself  once, 
though  only  for  a  short  time  —  as  far  as  I 
know  the  world,  those  of  high  birth,  and  no 
doubt  it  is  the  same  with  those  of  great, 
wealth,  are  full  of  wishes  and  cravings  ;  and 
the  task  is  to  convert  these  wishes,  these 
cravings,  this  expectancy,  into  active  will 
and  effort.  Your  handsome  pupil  has  ex- 
cellent dispositions  in  this  respect ;  he  un- 
derstands the  seriousness  of  life." 

Never  had  the  forest  seemed  to  Eric  so 
grand,  the  sunlight  so  clear,  the  air  so  in- 
vigorating, the  whole  world  so  transfigured, 
as  when  he  heard  this  testimony  from  his 
teacher's  lips.  Silently  he  walked  by  his 
side,  and  sat  with  him  in  the  forest ;  he 
would  gladly  have  kissed  the  good  man's 
delicate  hand. 

At  another  time,  Professor  Einsiedel  ad- 
monished Eric  that  he  was  falling  into  the 
very  error  common  among  rich  men  of 
neglecting  his  own  culture. 

"  Living  with  others  is  good,"  he  said; 
"but  living  with  one's  self  is  better ;  and 
I  fear  you  have  not  lived  as  you  should 
with  yourself." 

He  asked  Eric  plainly  how  far  he  had 
finished  his  book,  and  like  a  school-boy 
who  finds  himself  detected  in  laziness  and 
neglect  of  duty,  Eric  was  obliged  to  con- 
fess that  it  had  altogether  dropped  out  of 
his  mind.  The  face  of  the  Professor  sud- 
denly collapsed,  as  if  it  were  nothing  but 
wrinkles  ;  after  a  long  silence  he  said,  — 

"  You  are  inflicting  the  greatest  injury 
on  yourself  and  your  pupil." 

"  On  myself  and  my  pupil?  "  . 

M  Yes.  You  have  no  intellectual  work 
of  your  own  to  counteract  the  daily  dis- 
tractions of  your  profession,  and,  there- 
fore, you  do  not  bring  to  your  teaching  the 
necessary  freshness  and  elasticity.  I  have 
been  a  teacher  myself,  and  always  made  it 
a  rule  to  preserve  inviolate  my  own  intel- 
lectual sanctum,  and  in  that  way  con- 
stantly renewed  my  strength.  It  is  one  of 
the  conditions  of  a  proper  education,  that 
the  teacher  should  not  be  always  at  the  dis- 
posal of  his  pupil.    The  pupil  should  un- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


365 


derstand,  that  living  side  by  side  with  him 
is  another  human  being  like  himself,  who 
has  his  own  life  to  nourish,  and  that  no  one 
has  a  right  to  command  from  another  the 
total  surrender  of  himself  and  all  his 
powers.  You  must  never  consider  your- 
self as  a  finished  man ;  mark,  I  say  fin- 
ished ;  you  must  keep  on  educating  your- 
self. To  be  finished  is  the  beginning  of 
death.  Look  at  the  leaves  upon  the  trees  ; 
as  soon  as  one  has  reached  its  perfection, 
it  begins  to  turn  yellow  and  shrink.1' 

The  words  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
Eric.  What  this  man  here  in  this  silent 
wood-path  was  saying  aloud,  he  had  often 
felt,  but  had  never  been  willing  to  confess 
even  to  himself. 

"  '  Non  semper  arcum  tendit  Apollo,1 
says  Virgil,11  Eric  answered,  quoting  from 
his  teacher's  favorite  poet. 

Good,  good!  that  agrees  with  what  I 
say.  Apollo,  to  be  sure,  is  not  always 
bending  his  bow,  but  he  never  lays  it 
aside ;  it  remains  his  inalienable  attri- 
bute.11 

They  went  on  for  some  time  in  silence, 
till  presently  the  Professor  began  again,  — 

"  You  are  still  young ;  you  must  not  waste 
these  morning  hours  of  your  life.  I  warn 
you  as  your  teacher  and  your  father,  yes 
in  the  very  spirit  of  your  father.  'It  is  my 
right  and  my  duty  thus  to  speak,  for  your 
father  should  serve  you  as  a  warning.11 

"  My  father  serve  me  as  a  warning  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  need  not  remind  you  of  the 
worth  and  importance  of  his  labors,  but 
your  father  often  lamented  that  he  had 
allowed  an  unworthy  regard  for  his  stand- 
ing in  society  to  interfere  with  his  devotion 
to  pure  knowledge;  he  could  not  resume 
the  steadiness  of  his  former  habits  of 
study.  More  than  that,  he  found  himself 
thinking  of  persons  while  he  was  writing, 
instead  of  thinking  only  of  ideas,  which  is 
our  religion.  If  we  lose  that,  we  are  the 
worst  of  idolaters ;  our  idol  is  even  less 
than  a  picture  in  a  temple ;  it  is  the  most 
worthless  of  all  idols,  the  fickle  voice  of 
society.11 

Eric  still  remained  silent,  and  the  kindly 
old  man  began  again,  — 

"  Here  is  another  proof  of  the  wonderful 
connection  of  events.  Our  clinical  Profes- 
sor had  to  overcome  a  strong  repugnance 
on  my  part  to  undertake  this  cure  ;  neither 
of  us  knew  that  the  real  object  of  my  being 
sent  here  was,  perhaps,  to  be  a  healing- 
spring  to  you.11 

"Indeed  you  are, 11  exclaimed  Eric,  as 
he  grasped  his  teacher's  delicate  hand. 
Only  for  a  little  while  longer,  he  said,  till 
Roland  had  entered  upon  whatever  work 


should  be  next  appointed  him,  he  wanted 
to  devote  himself  entirely  to  his  pupil; 
then  he  would  return  to  the  service  of  pure 
knowledge. 

The  Professor  warned  him  not  to  wait 
for  that,  for  he  should  never  lose  his  hold 
of  the  world  of  ideas. 

"Or  if  you  mean  to  devote  yourself  to 
practica^  life,"  he  added,  "  I  have  nothing 
to  say  against  that ;  only  you  must  decide 
on  one  or  the  other." 

Eric  returned  to  the  hotel  as  one  roused 
from  a  dream.  He  saw  the  danger  which 
threatened  him,  of  seeking  to  shine  in 
society  by  a  display  of  the  thoughts  and 
the  knowledge  he  had  acquired  in  the 
studies  which  he  now  no  longer  pursued. 
The  Professor  had  touched  a  very  different 
chord  in  him  from  what  the  Doctor  had 
once  stirred.  He  took  pleasure  in  making 
his  old  teacher  better  acquainted  with  Clod- 
wig,  the  Banker,  Sonnenkamp,  and  particu- 
larly with  Roland,  whose  lessons  he  now 
resumed  with  an  energy  which  filled  the 
boy  with  amazement. 

The  Professor  took  especial  pleasure  in 
the  society  of  Roland,  who  called  him,  as 
he  had  done  at  their  first  meeting,  "  grand- 
teacher.11  There  was  a  deference  and  a 
ready  submission  in  his  manner,  which  filled 
Eric  with  delight,  when  he  saw  them  to- 
gether. Many  a  saying  of  the  noble  old 
man's  sank  deep  into  the  boy's  mind. 

"Who  would  suppose  that  the  long 
lieutenant  and  the  Professor  belonged  to 
the  same  race  of  men  ?  "  he  once  said  to 
Eric. 

Eric  liked  to  leave  his  pupil  as  much  as 
possible  alone  with  the  Professor,  and  was 
gratified  by  having  the  latter  say  to  him 
after  a  few  days,  — 

' '  You  have  done  a  good  work  ;  the  boy 
has  that  sensitive  pride  in  him  which  we  are 
apt  to  associate  with  gentle  birth.  I  should 
have  no  fear  of  his  falling  into  low  or 
criminal  habits  ;  his  noble  pride  would  be 
repelled  by  their  vulgarity.  There  is  no 
denying  the  fact  that  self-esteem  amounting 
to  pride  can  become,  under  proper  guid- 
ance, a  sure  moral  principle." 

Bella  had  begun  by  trying  to  make  a 
butt  of  the  Professor,  but  the  old  man 
looked  at  her  with  an  expression  of  such 
childlike  compassion,  and  at  the  same  time 
of  such  mild  rebuke,  that  she  soon  dropped 
her  tone  of  banter,  and  overlooked  the 
good  Professor  altogether. 

This  unpretending  and  apparently  inex- 
perienced man  formed,  however,  very  de- 
cided opinions  upon  all  whom  he  met. 
Clodwig  he  perceived  to  be  a  good  and 
noble  man.     His  classical  education  de- 


3G6 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


lighted  him  particularly.  **  Classical  edu- 
cation,11  he  said,  "  is  the  stone  foundation, 
which,  firmly  planted  in  the  ground,  is 
itself  invisible,  but  bears  up  the  whole 
building." 

The  Banker  was  too  uneasy  and  restless 
to  please  him,  but  he  gave  him  credit  for 
possessing  a  characteristic  very  common 
among  the  Jews,  that  of  gratitude  even  for 
intellectual  benefits. 

Sonnenkamp  inspired  the  Professor  with 
a  shrinking  awe.  He  acknowledged  that 
the  feeling  was  unjust,  for  the  man  had 
always  showed  great  friendliness  towards 
him,  but  still  he  could  not  conquer  it. 

He  once  confessed  to  Eric  that  he  was 
afraid  of  persons  who  were  so  strong ;  he 
always  felt  as  if  Sonnenkamp  would  take 
him  up  in  his  arms  like  a  little  child  and 
run  away  with  him.  He  knew  he  should 
never  understand  the  man's  character  per- 
fectly ;  reading  characters  was  something 
like  deciphering  inscriptions  on  stone ;  if 
you  cannot  make  them  out  at  the  first 
glance,  you  will  succeed  no  better  with 
hard  study. 

Quite  a  new  influence  was  exerted,  how- 
ever, as  Professor  Einsiedel  became  more 
intimate  with  Manna.  In  Eric's  case,  he 
had  recognized  instantly  his  having  been 
sent  to  this  place  by  that  invisible  power 
.which  harmonizes  all  life,  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  help  to  his  young  friend.  Such 
was  even  more  the  fact  with  regard  to 
Manna,  though  here  he  was  not  conscious 
of  it.  Manna  was  needing  and  seeking 
help,  and  attached  herself,  with  the  loving 
watchfulness  of  a  daughter,  to  this  delicate 
man,  who  outwardly  was  so  childlike  and 
dependent. 

Geology  and  chemistry  have  not  yet  sat- 
isfactorily settled  the  manner  in  which  these 
medicinal  springs  work  their  cures,  and 
we  are  equally  ignorant  of  the  workings  of 
that  subtle  influence  by  which  one  man 
affects  another  for  good  or  for  evil.  Thus 
mysteriously  did  Professor  Einsiedel  influ- 
ence Manna.  When  she  told  him  of  her 
.  desire  to  enter  the  convent,  he  expressed 
his  envy. 

"If  I  were  a  Catholic,"  he  said,  "I 
would  enter  a  convent  too  ;  but  it  must  be  a 
different  kind  of  a  convent,  orfe  exclusively 
for  men  of  science,  who  have  no  time  or  fac- 
ulty for  providing  for  the  necessities  of  life, 
and  vet  have  works  of  importance  to  carry 
out." 

Manna  smiled,  for  she  could  not  help 
thinking  of  Claus,  who  also  wanted  to  enter 
a  convent,-  so  that  he  might  have  nothing  to 
do  but  drink  all  the  time.  But  she  quickly 
banished  all  such  comparisons  ;  for  here  was 


a  repose,  a  devotion  to  a  sacred  idea,  which 
might  boldly  compare  itself  with  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  church.  She  trembled  at  the 
thought,  but  could  not  drive  it  from  her 
mind.  With  some  timidity,  and  yet  em- 
boldened by  the  remembrance  of  her  former 
undoubting  confidence,  she  ventured  to  ap- 
proach the  Professor,  though  only  interrog- 
atively, upon  the  subject  of  the  necessity  of 
religious  faith,  as  the  only  means  of  salva- 
tion. She  was  amazed  at  the  sudden  ex- 
citement that  blazed  up  in  the  quiet  little 
man. 

.  "  We  are  no  enemies  of  the  church,"  he 
said,  "  for  we  only  make  war  upon  the  liv- 
ing. The  church  has  not  been  able  to 
fashion  the  world,  nor  society,  nor  a  single 
state ;  all  it  has  succeeded  in  doing,  is  to 
found  asylums  and  hospitals.  Not  to  her 
is  given  the  direction  of  life,  but  to  classi- 
cal education,  to  continually  advancing  cul- 
ture. My  child,  there  is  a  fellow-professor 
of  mine  in  the  University,  who  persistently 
maintains  that  the  Corpus  juris  has  done 
much  more  for  the  civilization  of  the  world, 
than  the  fragments  which  are  included 
under  the  name  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment. I  do  not  wholly  agree  with  him,  for 
the  Bible  has  touched  a  different  chord  in 
the  world.  Consider,  the  world  has  inher- 
ited from'classical  antiquity  two  great  ideas, 
those  of  state  and  nationality.  Men  were 
brought  up  in  these  two  ideas.  Then  came 
religion,  and  taught  universality,  the  one- 
ness of  all  mankind,  the  brotherhood  of 
man,  and  the  unity  of  humanity.  Religion 
alone  could  have  done  it ;  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  the  Roman  civilization 
under  the  old  and  new  Cassars.  The 
church  has  done  her  work ;  she  has  im- 
planted the  idea  of  humanity.  Now  people 
assemble  again  in  states,  in  nationalities, 
still  needing  to  preserve  the  idea  of  brother- 
hood. But  forgive  me,  I  am  falling  too 
much  into  the  schoolmaster's  tone.'' 

"  No,  no ;  pray  go  on ;  I  understand. 
Pray  go  on  ! 11 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  what  was  ever  purely 
ideal  is  not  lost  to  the  world,  only  it  must 
not  require  to  be  forever  and  ever  the  one 
sole  expression  of  truth.  Here  lies  the  dif- 
ference between  us  unbelievers,  as  we  are 
called,  and  believers.  Let  me  illustrate  my 
meaning  by  facts  —  or  do  I  weary  you  ?  " 

"  How  can  you  think  so  poorly  of  me?  " 

"Forgive  me.  The  present  century  is 
laboring  for  two  great  objects,  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  serfs,  and  the  abolition  of  sla- 
very. They  will  be  accomplished,  but  not 
by  the  church ;  no,  by  the'  progress  of  cul- 
ture. Forgive  me,  my  child,  I  do  not  want 
to  confuse  you.    Never  touch  upon  the  sub- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


367 


ject  again,  be  sure  you  never  do  again.  I 
am  a  patient  man,  very  patient.  I  want  to 
disturb  no  one,  but  I  pray  you,  most  ear- 
nestly I  must  pray  you,  never  to  touch 
upon  these  subjects  with  me  again.  As  I 
have  said,  I  am  sorry  if  I  have  spoken 
slightingly  of  anything  which  is  sacred  and 
dear  to  you ;  1  hope  it  will  so  continue  to 
you,  although  I  reject  it.  But  I  beg  you, 
earnestly  beg  you,  not  to  approach  this 
theme  again.1' 

As  Manna  walked  by  the  side  of  the  Pro- 
fessor, she  longed  for  some  hand  from 
heaven  to  snatch  her  away  from  him. 

What  had  she  fallen  upon  ?  What  words 
had  she  had  to  hear  ?  and  that  not  from  a 
man  of  the  world,  but  from  one  who  desired 
nothing  but  to  end  his  life  in  modest  quiet. 

No  hand  from  heaven  was  outstretched 
to  snatch  her  away,  and  she  gradually  suc- 
ceeded in  regaining  her  tranquillity. 

Ib  was  well  she  should  have  heard  this 
from  a  man  she  could  not  despise.  This 
was  the  last  assault  of  the  tempter ;  she 
would  not  yield  under  it.  So  she  promised 
herself,  and  pressed  her  hand  on  her  heart, 
as  if  there  was  something  there  of  which 
she  would  keep  fast  hold.  But  the  deed 
was  done ;  she  could  not  recall  it.  She 
had  lost  that  for  which  she  had  been  ready 
to  sacrifice  her  life,  for  the  church,  to 
which  she  had  been  ready  to  give  herself, 
had  done  nothing  towards  destroying  this 
monstrous  evil. 

She  felt  inclined  henceforth  to  avoid  the 
Professor ;  but  that  would  have  been  unjust. 
What  had  he  done  except  honestly  to  tell 
her  his  convictions  ? 

A  feeling  of  attachment  led  her  still  to 
devote  much  of  her  time  to  him,  but  both 
avoided  any  discussion  upon  matters  of  re- 
ligion ;  only  Manna  would  sometimes  look 
up  at  him  with  wondering  eyes,  when  he 
would  quote,  from  heathen  writings,  sayings 
which  she  had  been  taught  to  consider  the 
exclusive  property  of  the  church. 

A  wide  horizon  opened  before  her  eyes, 
in  which  the  different  religions  seemed  only 
so  many  promontories,  and  this  unassuming, 
delicately  organized  man  seemed  a  type  of 
the  human  individual,  who  had  received  into 
himself  and  harmonized  all  contradiction. 
She  saw  Eric's  reverence  for  the  Professor, 
his  childlike  deference,  his  respectful  atten- 
tion, the  submission  which  he  every  hour 
displayed  towards  him.  She  watched  Eric 
closely.  It  surprisedher  that  this  man  of 
strongly  marked  individuality  should  be  ca- 
pable of  such  humble  veneration  for  another. 

Professor  Einsiedel  was  often  accompa- 
nied also  by  a  little  dried-up  old  man  of  most 
humble  exterior,  who  always  withdrew  at 


Manna's  approach,  as  if  he  felt  himself  un- 
worthy to  intrude  upon  the  society  of  men. 

Professor  Einsiedel  once  told  Manna  the 
history  of  this  companion  of  his.  They  had 
been  school-fellows  together,  and  this  man 
was  early  taken  from  his  studies  on  account 
of  the  death  of  his  father,  and  the  necessity 
of  providing  for  his  brothers  and  sisters. 
He  became  book-keeper  in  a  great  banking 
house,  by  which  he  earned  enough  not  only 
to  support  a  widowed  sister  and  her  chil- 
dren, but  managed,  by  practising  the  strict- 
est economy,  to  lay  by  a  considerable  sum. 

One  night,  on  returning  from  the  theatre, 
he  found  that  his  nephew  had  broken  open 
his  desk,  stolen  his  whole  property,  and  es- 
caped with  it  to  America.  Without  telling 
any  one  of  the  robbery  —  for  how  could  he 
give  up  to  justice  his  sister's  son  ?  —  he  be- 
gan anew  to  spare  and  to  save,  and  thus 
sacrificed  his  life  for  that  of  another. 

Professor  Einsiedel  had  no  idea  what  a 
deep  impression  this  simple  history  made 
upon  Manna,  — this*  story  of  silent,  unobtru- 
sive self-sacrifice. 

One  subject  upon  which  Manna  and  Ein- 
siedel could  converse  with  perfect  sympathy 
was  Eric's  mother.  The  Professor  took  for 
granted  that  Manna  lived  on  terms  of  inti- 
mate friendship  with  the  noble  lady,  and  he 
could  not  find  words  strong  enough  to  ex- 
press his  appreciation  of  her  firmness  'and 
nobleness  of  mind.  Manna  smiled  to  hear 
him  say  that  the  Professorin  had  converted 
him  from  a  very  low  opinion  of  the  capabili- 
ties of  her  sex,  to  a  conviction  that  a  woman 
is  endowed  with  all  the  characteristics  of 
man,  only  in  a  more  beautiful  shape.  Man- 
na also  had  many  pleasant  things  to  tell  of 
Eric's  mother. 

This  unassuming  little  man,  who  had  thus 
dropped  by  chance  into  their  circle,  had 
exercised  on  the  minds  of  all  an  influence 
far  outweighing  that  of  the  excitements  and 
allurements  of  the  life  in  the  great  world. 

But  even  in  this  society,  Sonnen  kamp 
thought  only  of  advancing  his  own  plans  of 
self-aggrandizement.  In  a  few  days  the 
Prince,  Clodwig,  and  Bella  were  to  'take 
their  departure  ;  if  he  could  not  win  over  the 
Prince,  he  was  resolved  to  attach  all  the 
nobility  at  least  to  his  interests. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  MARRIAGE  PROCESSION  TURNED  TO 
STONE. 

The  day  of  the  fete  had  arrived.  Ro- 
land rode  on  in  front  with  Pranken,  Son- 
nenkamp  walked  with  the  Banker,  and  Eric 
with  Clodwig.  The  day  was  clear  and 
sunny,  without  being  too  warm.    A  brilliant 


368 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


company  left  their  carriages  upon  the  hill, 
and  .strolled  down  the  wood-path  to  the  val- 
ley below. 

Eric  tried  to  lead  the  conversation  to 
Sonnenkamp^  receiving  a  title  of  nobility, 
but  Clodwig  at  once  interrupted  him,  and, 
with  a  tone  of  almost  parental  authority, 
warned  him  against  mixing  himself  up  in 
any  way  with  that  matter.  For  the  first 
time,  there  was  something  in  Clodwig's  look 
that  Eric  could  not  fathom.  They  went 
down  the  path  in  silence.  A  struggle  was 
going  on  in  Eric's  mind,  and  in  Clodwig 
also  was  a  conflict  of  feeling  concerning  his 
young  friend. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  valley,  Son- 
nenkamp drew  Erie  aside,  and  asked  what 
opinion  Clodwig  had  expressed.  Eric  re- 
plied that  he  declined  speaking  at  all  upon 
the  subject. 

"Thank  you  —  thank  you  very  much,11 
ejaculated  Sonnenkamp,  with  no  apparent 
reason. 

By  the  side  of  the  brook  in  Heilingthal 
Joseph  had  already  spread  the  table,  and 
Sonnenkamp  had  only  the  addition  of  a  few 
trifles  to  suggest.  The  company  assembled 
was  most  select,  and  all  expressed  surprise 
and  pleasure  at  the  arrangements  that  had 
been  made.  The  long  lieutenant  was  par- 
ticularly eloquent,  and  called  up  a  singular 
expression  in  Sonnenkamp^  face  by  always, 
although  he  was  no  Austrian,  addressing 
him  as  Herr  von  Sonnenkamp.  A  band  of 
music,  stationed  in  the  forest,  played  sweet 
and  lively  airs.  A  great  point  of  interest 
was  the  group  of  rocks  above  where  the 
company  were  seated,  which,  the  story  ran, 
had  been  the  living  figures  of  a  marriage 
procession  turned  into  stone  by  spirits  from 
the  lower  world. 

"  What  can  have  been^the  origin  of  this 
tradition  ?  11  asked  Bella,  turning  to  Eric. 

All  gave  polite  attention,  as  Eric  ex- 
plained that  this  was  one  of  the  many  vari- 
ations of  the  Tannhäuser  tradition,  and  that 
nations  in  the  dawn  of  civilization  gave 
themselves  up  to  a  belief  in  the  old  tradi- 
tions*, which  have  their  root  in  the  ever 
haunting  mystery  of  the  origin  of  the  earth. 

Suddenly  a  foresters  horn  was  heard, 
and  rocks  and  valley  became  the  theatre  of 
a  strange  spectacle.  A  band  of  gipsy  mu- 
sicians, fantastically  dressed,  came  sud- 
denly to  view,  playing  wild  melodies,  —  one 
young  fellow  in  particular,  with  raven  hair, 
leaping  and  dancing  as  he  played  upon  his 
fiddle.  Great  praises  were  bestowed  upon 
Sonnenkamp  for  his  ingenuity  in  always 
devising  some  new  entertainment,  and  his 
protestations  that  this  was  a  surprise  even 
to  himself,  were  taken  by  some  for  truth, 


and  by  others  as  modesty.  A  rapid  glance, 
exchanged  between  himself  and  Lootz,  would 
have  proved  to  any  one  who  had  seen  it  his 
sincerity  in  disclaiming  all  knowledge  of 
the  exhibition. 

Bella  encouraged  the  gipsies  to  wilder 
and  wilder  music,  and,  on  learning  that 
their  camp  was  pitched  in  the  neighborhood, 
she  went  to  visit  it,  accompanied  by  Roland 
and  some  of  the  ladies.  The  absence  of 
Professor  Einsiedel  she  greatly  lamented," 
as  he  had  told  her  that  the  language  of  the 
gipsies  bore  some  connection  with  the  Sans- 
crit. Eric  was  much  surprised  at  being 
able  to  say  a  few  words  to  these  strange 
people  in  their  own  tongue.  Bella  asked 
if  there  was  no  one  in  the  company  who 
could  draw,  and  insisted  on  the  long  lieu- 
tenant beginning  a  sketch  at  once  of  the 
gipsy  camp,  the  wretched  horse  eating  a 
wisp  of  hay,  the  wagon,  and  the  old  women 
sitting  about  an  open  fire.  A  wild,  impu- 
dent looking  girl,  who  wore  a  large  crino- 
line, and  smoked  a  short  pipe  in  a  free  and 
easy  fashion,  soon  became  her  especial  fa- 
vorite. One  old  hag,  pointing  her  skinny 
hand  at  Roland,  cried  out :  — 

"  He  shall  be  our  king.11 

"Can  you  not  tell  fortunes?"  asked 
Bella,  extending  her  hand  to  the  old  wo- 
man. 

"Not  yours,11  said  the  gipsy.  "But  I 
want  that  one  next  you  to  show  me  her 
hand.11  With  great  reluctance,  Manna  con- 
sented. The  old  woman  gave  a  wild  cry, 
and  exclaimed : — 

"  You  have  a  lover  by  your  side,  but  you 
must  go  across  the  water  to  get  him,  and 
water  must  flow  from  your  handsome  black 
eyes.  But  then  three  sons  and  two  daugh- 
ters shall  you  have  11 

Here  Manna  tore  her  hand  away,  and 
walked  on  apart  from  the  rest  of  the  party. 
Much  as  she  despised  this  criminal  sport, 
and  little  as  the  whole  company  believed  in 
it,  it  yet  strangely  affected  her.  Could 
Pranken  have  been  the  originator  of  it  ?  It 
almost  seemed  so,  and  yet  he  was  innocent 
of  the  whole  thing. 

"  I  should  like  to  pronounce  a  ban,1' 
cried  Bella. 

"  What  sort  of  one  ?  11  asked  all  present. 

"  That  for  the  next  fifty  years  the  gipsies 
should  be  under  its  power ;  that  no  poet 
should  glare  to  sing  of  them.11 

Manna  went  on  with  the  others,  but  she 
and  all  around  her  seemed  as  in  a  dream. 
In  her  heart  she  felt  that  all  this  had  hap- 
pened, in  order  that  the  thought  of  it  might 
one  day  serve  to  recall  the  world  to  her 
mind,  when  she  had  left  it  forever.  It  al- 
ready seemed  distant,  among  the  things  of 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


369 


the  past.  She  stood  in  the  life  about  her  as 
not  a  part  of  it,  and  she  was  not  of  it,  for 
the  one  thought  was  ever  present  to  her  of 
renouncing  it  altogether.  This  year  in  the 
world  was  her  trial  year,  and  she  rejoiced 
to  think  that  several  months  of  it  were  al- 
ready gone. 

Bella,  who  prided  herself  upon  her  skill 
in  reading  character,  often  shook  her  head, 
and  confessed  to  her  brother  tliat  she  could 
make  nothing  out  of  Manna ;  in  vain  she 
tried  to  win  her  confidence ;  there  was 
something  at  bottom  which  she  could  not 
fathom.  Manna  never  spoke  to  Bella  of 
her  desire  to  return  to  the  convent.  Bel- 
la now  put  her  arm  about  Manna's  waist, 
and  teased  her  about  the  three  sons  and  two 
daughters,  but  the  girl  only  smiled  as  if 
the  words  had  been  addressed  to  some  other 
person. 

On  the  brow  of  the  hill,  under  the  shade 
of  the  pine-trees,  carpets  had  been  spread 
for  the  ladies,  where  they  rested,  while  the 
gentlemen  still  sat  at  table,  and,  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  the  long  lieutenant,  who  had  fin- 
ished his  sketch,  passed  round  the  wine. 

"Why  are  you  not  of  the  nobility?" 
asked  the  long  lieutenant  of  Sonnenkamp. 

"  Because  Herr  Sonnenkamp  is  a  citizen,1' 
replied  Clodwig. 

"  Citizens  can  be  made  nobles  when  they 
have  millions  " 

At  an  angry  sign  from  Pranken  the  young 
man  was  here  brought  to  a  sudden  pause. 
The  Cabinetsrath,  however,  thought  it  his 
duty  to  add,  in  consideration  of  Clodwig's 
being  an  influential  member  of  the  Com- 
mittee on  Orders,  whose  good  opinion  was 
therefore  important : — 

"Truly,  if  nobleness  of  mind,  great  pow- 
ers, beneficence,  and  worth  of  character 
raise  one  to  the  ranks  of  nobility,  our  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  is — will  certainly  become  a 
nobleman." 

The  long  lieutenant  considered  himself  a 
great  wit,  and  wits  are  not  easily  sup- 
pressed, even  when  they  have  not  been 
drinking  champagne ;  he  therefore  ex- 
claimed : — 

*  •  Excellent  —  delicious  !  Count  von  Wolfs- 
garten,  you  are  the  wisest  of  us  all;  are  you 
also  of  opinion  that  a  million  must  have  a 
title  ?  I  mean,  of  course,  not  the  million,  but 
the  man  who  has  the  million  ?  " 

"  It  is  most  amiable  of  you,"  replied 
Clodwig,  "to  exercise  in  my  favor  your 
sovereign  right  to  point  out  the  wisest  of 
us  all." 

"  Thanks,"  cried  the  long  lieutenant, 
"  that  blow  told.  But  I  pray  you  let  me 
have  your  opinion." 

"  I  think,"  said  a  stout  retired  court- 


marshal  who  boasted  of  having  already  lost 
sixteen  pounds  at  the  Baths,  "I  think  that 
our  noble  host  has  the  right  to  require  that 
this  discussion  should  not  be  continued  at 
this  time  and  in  this  place.  Does  not  your 
Excellency  agree  with  me  ? "  he  added, 
turning  to  Clodwig. 

Before  the  Count  had  time  to  answer, 
Sonnenkamp  broke  in  : — 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  should  be  most  hap- 
py if  my  honored  guests  would  so  far  favor 
me  as  to  continue  the  discussion,  and  allow 
me  to  be  a  listener ;  I  should  take  it  as  a 
proof  that  they  did  not  regard  me  as  stran- 
ger." 

Clodwig,  who  had  broken  through  his  usu- 
al strict  rule  of  temperance,  and  allowed 
himself  to  be  persuaded  to  drink  t  wo  glasses 
of  champagne,  suddenly  assumed  a  knowing 
look  and  said  : — 

"  In  that  case,  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  let  us 
hear  your  own  opinion  upon  the  subject." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  the  long  lieutenant; 
"  the  man  who  has  earned  millions,  and  has 
got  up  such  a  fairy  entertainment  as  this, 
must  " 

"Pray,  let  Herr  Sonnenkamp  speak," 
interrupted  Clodwig. 

"  My  honored  guests,"  began  Sonnen- 
kamp, "I  have  visited  every  part  of  the 
inhabited  globe,  and  have  learned  that  there 
is  and  must  be  everywhere  an  aristocracy, 
.one  class  distinguished  above  the  rest." 

"  It  is  so  among  horses  and  dogs,"  broke 
in  the  long  lieutenant.  "  Countess  Dingsda 
of  Russia,  has  two  gcayhounds  descended 

from  the  Empress  Kitherine  1  mean 

from  the  Empress  Katherine's  days." 

The  Court-marshal  who  had  lost  the  six- 
teen pounds  of  flesh  admonished  the  long 
lieutenant  in  a  whisper  to  hold  his  tongue, 
£or  he  was  exposing  himself  and  putting  out 
the  whole  company.  The  long  lieutenant 
passed  his  hand  over  his  brow,  and  softly 
promised  to  obey. 

"Let  us  hear  you  further,"  urged  Clod- 
wig, and  Sonnenkamp  continued,  — 

"  It  is  fortunate  also  for  barbarous  races 
when  they  possess  certain  families  who  pre- 
sent them,  in  historical  continuation,  the 
various  decisive  points  in  their  career,  and 
when  new  families  become  distinguished  by 
courage  or  wisdom,  and  form,  as  it  were,  a 
new  dynasty." 

Clodwig  observed  that  the  sweat  stood  in 
great  drops  on  Sonnenkamp's  forehead,  and 
said,  with  great  friendliness,  — 

"  It  might  be  said  that  the  distinctive 
prerogative  of  the  nobility  was  to  unite  cul- 
ture and  courage  ;  one  should  never  be  sep- 
arated from  the  other.  I  hope  you  will  un- 
derstand me  aright  when  I  say  that  the  titles 


370 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


of  nobility  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of 
the  gifts,  the  acquisitions  of  transcendent 
genius  in  a  former  time,  and  they  have  now 
become  an  inherited  right,  or  rather  involve 
an  inherited  duty.  The  nobleman  is  the 
free  human  being,  uniting  in  himself  the 
gilts  of  nature  and  fortune,  and  preserving 
a  certain  chain  of  connection  through  the 
ever  changing  generations  of  men.  Nobil- 
ity is  a  kind  of  public  office  to  which  a  man 
is  born.  The  nobleman  should  act  out  his 
own  nature,  but  is  bound  at  the  same  time 
by  the  conditions  of  history." 

"  May  the  wine  freeze  in  my  body,  if  I 
understand  a  word  of  what  he  is  saying,1' 
said  the  long  lieutenant  to  the  Court  Mar- 
shal, who  was  trying  hard  to  fight  off  the 
sleep  which,  contrary  to  all  the  rules  of  the 
treatment,  was  stealing  over  him.  He  sud- 
denly woke  up  and  said,  — 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  you  are  perfectly  right;  but 
do  keep  quiet." 

"  You  yourself,"  said  the  Marshal,  "  must 
reverence  an  honest  pride  in  the  virtues  and 
bravery  of  our  ancestors.  The  man  who 
walks  through  a  gallery,  from  whose  walls 
the  pictures  of  a  long  line  of  progenitors  look 
down  upon  and  watch  his  steps,  receives  a 
life-long  impression  ;  through  his  whole  life 
he  is  followed  by  the  watchful  eye  of  his 
ancestors." 

"True,  true  !  "  cried  many  voices. 

"And  what  follows  from  that?"  asked 
Clodwig.  "  Let  us  return  to  our  original 
question." 

"  Just  what  I  am  doing.  Why  should 
not  these  historical  conditions  be  constantly 
reversed  ? " 

"  Quite  right ;  that  is  the  proper  way  to 
state  the  question,"  replied  Clodwig.  "  Is 
this  an  age  which  can  concede  any  special 
duties,  and  with  them  any  special  privileges, 
to  the  nobility  ?  This  is  the  day  of  equal 
rights  ;  there  are  no  more  members  of  a 
privileged  class.  There  are  but  two  classes 
of  men,  men  of  renown  and  men  without 
renown.  The  nobility  which  claims  to  rest 
upon  hereditary  honor  is  effete  ;  it  is  incon- 
testable' a  dying  institution.  Of  what  use 
are  coats  of  arms  ?  Of  none  but  to  be  em- 
broidered on  fire-screens,  sofa  cushions,  and 
travelling-bags.  The  equal,  universal  duty 
of  bearing  arms  furnishes  the  reasonable 
claim  to  nobility.  Science,  art,  business, 
are  the  factors  of  our  time,  which  the  whole 
people  without  distinction  is  equally  bound 
to  take  part  in.  We  stand  in  opposition  to 
history.  The  nobleman  was  of  importance 
so  long  as  landed  property  was  the  founda-' 
tion  of  the  nation's  power.  That  time  is 
passed,  since  those  high  chimneys  have 
reared  themselves  into  the  air;  since  the 


power  of  movable  property,  ideal  posses- 
sions —  for  all  state  securities  are  but  ideal 
possessions  —  has  surpassed  that  of  landed 
estates,  those  days  have  been  no  more. 
One  advantage  of  this  personal  property  is, 
that  it  cannot  be  clutched  by  the  dead  hand  ; 
the  hand  of  inheritance  is  a  dead  hand.  I 
am  not  opposed  to  having  the  nobleman  of 
the  present  day  give  his  name  to  business 
transactions ;  there  are  better  things  than 
titles  and  orders  by  which  not  only  money, 
but  influence,  can  be  gained.  1  thank  the 
noble  Jacob  Grimm  for  exposing,  as  he 
does  in  his  essay  on  Schiller,  the  folly  of 
supposing  that  Goethe  and  Schiller  can  be 
ennobled.  The  nobility  of  to-day  means 
nothing  but  a  name,  a  desolation  ;  we  go  so 
far  as  to  bestow  it  even  upon  the  Jews." 

"But  you,  certainly,"  interrupted  the 
Banker,  "would  not  deny  the  equal  rights 
of  the  different  religions,  the  moment  this 
equality  of  rights  knocks  at  the  emblazoned 
door  of  nobility  ?  " 

"Equal  rights!"  exclaimed  Clodwig. 
"  Quite  right,  my  friend  descended  from  an 
ancient  race.  But  is  it  not  an  absurd  per- 
version to  use  equal  rights  for  the  abolish- 
ment of  equal  rights  ?  If  anybody  can  be- 
come a  noble,  without  the  necessity  of  hav- 
ing been  born  so,  of  course  the  Jews  can ; 
but  they  ought  not  to  desire  it,  they  ought 
to  see  the  disloyalty  of  it.  So  far  as  I  see, 
the  Jews  —  I  am  speaking  now  with  no  ref- 
erence to  their  religion  —  are  a  living  lesson 
to  us  not  to  judge  of  men  by  what  they  be- 
lieve, but  by  their  progress  in  virtue  and 
culture.  The  Jews  are,  according  to  our 
way  of  regarding  them,  a  race  made  up  of 
nobles  —  for  who  has  a  longer  and  purer 
pedigree  ?  —  or  they  are  a  people  in  a  cer- 
tain degree  proud  of  being  descended  from 
slaves.  I  am  indebted  to  an  old  rabbi, 
whom  I  once  met  a£  the  Baths,  for  a  noble 
thought." 

"  What  was  it  ?  "  asked  the  Banker. 

"  He  said  to  me  —  we  were  in  Ostend  at 
the  time,  walking  on  the  sea-shore  and  talk- 
ing of  the  negro,  discussing  his  capability 
for  freedom  and  culture,  and  this  rabbi 
made  a  very  beautiful  remark  " 

Clodwig  paused  for  a  time  as  if  trying  to 
recall  something,  then,  laying  the  finger  of 
his  left  hand  upon  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  he 
said,  — 

"The  rabbi  declared  that  the  looking 
back  to  a  past  time  of  slavery  was  a  great 
spur  to  ambition,  and  that  many  things 
which  at  first  sight  appear  strange  in  the 
Jews,  may  be  accounted  for  by  the  impor- 
tant fact  of  their  tracing  their  history  back 
to  a  period  of  slavery.  They  have  had  im- 
planted in  them,  by  their  bondage  in  Egypt, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


371 


a  pride  and  a  humility,  a  steady  resistance 
to  oppression,  a  quick  perception  of  injus- 
tice and  of  every  injury  inflicted  on  others, 
and  hence  a  sympathy,  which  is  unparalleled 
in  history.1' 
"  Certainly." 

"  A  Jew  with  a  coat  of  arms,"  continued 
Clodwig,  "with  helmet  and  shield  and  all 
the  gewgaws  —  the  very  sight  of  them 
should  be  an  offence  to  him,  for  at  the  time 
when  men  wore  helmets  and  shields,  his 
ancestors,  the  Jews,  were  servants  of  the 
emperor,  and  almost  outside  the  protection 
of  the  laws.  A  Jew  may  become  Christian 
from  conviction,  because,  apart  from  the 
dogma,%he  perceives  the  advance  in  civiliza- 
tion and  culture  which  the  religion  of  Jews 
has  accomplished.  Many  change  their  faith 
from  want  of  deep  principle,  not  having  the 
courage,  or  not  feeling  it  to  be  their  duty, 
to  inflict  upon  themselves  and  on  their  chil- 
dren a  life-long  martyrdom.  But  a  Jew 
with  a  title  is  the  most  ridiculous  anachro- 
nism that  can  be  imagined.  To  become  a 
citizen,  to  enter  that  class  which-  is  ever 
increasing  in  numbers  and  importance,  is 
the  right  and  the  duty  of  a  Jew.  But  shall 
there  be  a  union  of  Jewish  noble  families, 
who,  like  others,  shall  marry  only  among 
themselves?  'The  more  we  think  of  the 
matter,  the  more  absurd  the  contradictions 
that  arise.  However,  I  did  not  mean  to 
speak  of  the  Jews,  and  pray  the  company 
to  pardon  me  for  having  thus  strayed  from 
our  main  point.11 

"Had  we  not  better  put  an  end  to  the 
discussion  altogether  ?  11  suggested  Pranken. 

"  I  have  done  ;  only  one  word  more.  A 
piece  of  music  always  leaves  a  painful  im- 
pression if  we  have  not  heard  the  final  ca- 
dence, and,  therefore,  let  me  say,  in  a  few 
words,  that  I  consider  the  raising  of  a  citi- 
zen to  the  ranks  of  the  nobility  a  histori- 
cal absurdity,  to  use  no  harsher  term.  The 
man  who  leaves  the  ranks  of  the  citizens  is 
a  deserter,  an  apostate,  I  will  not  say  a  trai- 
tor and  a  fool  also,  for  forsaking  the  con- 
quering banner  of  the  people.  I  under- 
stand the  temptation  ;  they  want  to  secure 
their  possessions  to  their  family^  to  estab- 
lish the  right  of  entail ;  the  sons  want  to  be 
knights ;  but  it  is  a  stinted  race  after  all,  a 
mongrel  stock,  from  which  no  good  tree  can 
grow.11 

Clodwig  had  several  objects  in  view  in 
speaking  thus ;  he  wanted  to  make  a  direct 
appeal  to  his  companions  in  rank,  and  he 
wanted,  once  for  all,  to  divert  from  their  pur- 
ose  Sonnenkamp  and  the  Banker,  who  he 
new  had  also  been  induced  to  aspire  to  a 
title. 

Perceiving  a  peculiar  expression  in  the 


countenance  of  his  old* friend,  he  turned  to 
him,  and  said  :  — 

"  I  see  you  have  something  on  your  mind 
you  would  like  to  say.11 

"  Nothing  of  any  consequence,11  replied 
the  Banker,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders, 
offering  his  gold  snuff-box  to  Clodwig  and 
Sonnenkamp.  "  Our  host  is  a  perfect  ex- 
ample of  what  is  called  in  America  '  a  self- 
made  man,1  a  term  of  great  distinction. 
There  is  no  term  in  our  language  which  ex- 
actly expresses  it.  To  have  inherited  noth- 
ing, but  to  have  won  everything  by  his  own 
effort,  is  the  greatest  pride  of  an  American. 
'  Self  made  man1  is,  so  to  speak,  the  motto 
upon  his  shield.  Their  president-  elect, 
Abraham  Lincoln,  is  the  best  example  of 
this  class,  who,  from  being  a  rail-splitter 
and  a  boatman,  has  attained  the  highest 
honor.  Are  you  personally  acquainted  with 
Lincoln  ?  11 

"  I  have  not  the  honor,11  replied  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

Roland  here  approached  the  gentlemen, 
and  requested  them  to  join  the  rest  of 
the  company,  as  the  plan  was  to  have  the 
band  play,  while  all  walked  together  to  the 
place  where  they  had  left  the  carriages.  All 
arose  from  table.  The  nobles  from  the 
various  German  principalities  stared  at  one 
another  in  amazement,  and  if  any  magical 
change  could  have  come  over  them,  would 
certainly  have  been  turned  into  stone,  as 
the  bridal  procession  had  been.  The  long 
lieutenant  and  the  sleepy  Court-marshal 
would  have  made  most  grotesque  figures. 
How  was  it  that  a  nobleman,  a  Count  von 
Wolfsgarten,  could-  use  such  language  ?  The 
man  must  be  drunk  ! 

They  joined  the  ladies.  Clodwig  and 
Eric  lingered  a  little  behind.  Eric  had  not 
spoken  a  word  during  the  discussion,  and 
Clodwig  expressed  his  vexation  at  having 
inconsiderately  opened  his  whole  mind  to 
persons,  who  did  not  want  to  listen  to  seri- 
ous words. 

"I  am  grateful  to  you  for  it,11  replied 
Eric. 

"I  will  try  to  think,11  said  Clodwig  in 
conclusion,  "  that  I  have  been  talking  only 
to  you.11 

The  two  went  together  into  the  woods, 
where  the  ladies  had  now  risen  from  their 
carpeted  resting-place,  and,  seating  them- 
selves on  the  ground,  watched  the  young 
people  dancing  on  the  meadow  below. 

Sonnenkamp  stood  leaning  against  a  tall 
pine-tree,  as  if  turned  into  stone,  and  al- 
most wishing  1*hat  the  whole  company  might 
be  actually  petrified  like  the  marriage  pro- 
cession. A  butterfly,  which  flew  over 
Clodwisfs  head,  and  fluttered  back  and  forth 

o  7 


372 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


in  the  valley  before  Sonnenkamp's  eyes, 
might  have  told  him  what  Clodwig  was  say- 
ing to  Erie  on  the  hill. 

"  You  asked  nie  this  morning  my  opinion 
on  this  mutter;  I  think  you  know  it  now.  I 
have  declared  distinctly,  that  I  shall  decid- 
edly oppose  all  conferring  of  titles  upon  new 
men.  I  do  not  mind  telling  you,  however, 
my  young  friend,  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp's 
chances  are  very  good,  for  my  voice  is  not 
decisive." 

Eric  was  strangely  tempted  to  go  down 
to  where  Sonnenkamp  was  standing  and  tell 
him  this.  He  had  witnessed  the  man's  dis- 
appointment to-day,  and  would  have  been 
glad  to  encourage  him,  feeling  sympathy  for 
one  who  desired  all  things  for  his  son's  sake. 

He  restrained  himself,  however,  being 
resolved  to  keep  himself  aloof  from  the 
whole  matter.  He  told  Clodwig  how  Ro- 
land had  wished,  on  the  evening  of  the  ball, 
to  confide  to  .him  the  secret  of  their  being 
about  to  receive  a  title,  but  that  it  was  his 
intention  not  to  mention  the  subject  to  the 
boy,  although  his  father  had  opened  the  way 
for  him  to  do  so.  Roland  had  thus  far  been 
keeping  the  matter  quietly  in  his  own  mind, 
and  it  seemed  better  now  to  ignore  it  alto- 
gether, than  than  to  have  the  son  conceive 
any  disapprobation  qf  his  father's  proceed- 
ings. Clodwig  agreed  perfectly  with  his 
young  friend,  and  repeatedly  expressed  his 
present  contentment  at  Eric's  having  re- 
jected his  proposal  to  live  with  him,  for 
there  was  a  wider  and  richer  field  of  useful- 
ness open  to  him  where  he  was. 

Both  were  refreshed  by  their  quiet  inter- 
course. 

The  long  lieutenant  now  broke  in  upon 
Sonnenkamp's  solitary  musings.  The  but- 
terfly flew  up  again,  and  might  have  told 
those  on  the  hill  what  was  passing  in  the 
valley  below. 

"  Herr  von  Sonnenkamp,11  began  the  long 
lieutenant,  "have  the  negroes  any  musical 
talent  P 11 

' '  The  negroes  are  very  fond  of  a  kind 
of  music  of  their  own,  which  is  nothing 
but  noise,11  replied  Sonnenkamp;  "and 
many  wise  men  consider  that  conversation 
which  — 11  he  paused  for  a  word,  but  seemed 
to  find  none  sharp  enough,  and  at  the  same 
time  sufficiently  polite.  At  last  he  said  — 
"  which  perhaps  might  pass  for  such  in  the 
little  capital.11 

He  joined  the  gay  company,  and,  while 
the  band  played, "  they  all  walked  to 
the  place  where  the  carriages  were  wait- 
ing. 

It  so  happened,  neither  knew  how,  that 
Manna  and  Eric  walked  together  through 
the  woods.    They  went  on,  side  by  side, 


in  silence,  though  each  had  so  much  to  say 
to  the  other. 

"  I  hear,"  Manna  began  at  last,  "  that 
Count  Clodwig  expressed  himself  warmly 
against  rank ;  did  he  think  that  distinction 
of  birth  was  in  any  wav  opposed  to  relig- 
ion?'1 

"  He  said  nothing  of  the  kind." 

Again  they  went  on  in  silence. 

"  I  wonder  where  our  friend,  Professor 
Einsiedel,  has  been  to-day,11  began  Manna 
again  ;  "I  am  a  pupil  of  his,  too,  now." 

"  It  is  a  great  privilege,"  answered  Eric, 
"  to  know  such  a  liberal,  devout  mind." 

They  said  no  more,  but  both  felt  that 
there  was  a  sort  of  sympathy  established 
between  them  by  their  reverence  for  the 
same  man.  Not  only  Was  their  faculty  of 
reverence  now  the  same,  but  there  was  a 
common  object  of  their  reverence. 

"  Eric  !  Manna  !  11  suddenly  cried  a  voice, 
which  was  repeated  by  all  the  echoes  of 
the  forest.  They  stood  startled  at  hearing 
their  names  thus  coupled  together,  and  sent 
back  again,  and  again,  by  the  stone  figures 
of  the  bridal  procession. 

Roland  came  back  to  find  them,  and,  giv- 
ing his  right  hand  to  Manna  and  his  left  to 
Eric,  led  them  thus  to  the  carriage,  in 
which  all  took  their  seats. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
CHANGES  WROUGHT  IN  MANY  MINDS. 

Sonnenkamp  felt  himself  set  aside  by 
the  Court,  or  rather  completely  overlooked  ; 
but  he  could  not  demean  himself  by  allow- 
ing any  feeling  of  wounded  pride  to  appear, 
therefore  he  omitted  none  of  the  customary 
salutations  of  respect,  even  when  the  Sov- 
ereign looked  ungraciously  at  him.  That 
was  the  regular  court  service,  to  which  he 
was  determined- to  accustom  himself. 

The  day  was  fixed  for  the  departure  of 
the  Prince  and  his  retinue.  Sonnenkamp 
stood  among  the  other  distinguished  vis- 
itors, making  the  last  salutations  beside  the 
royal  coach,  and  received  his  share  of  the 
Sovereign^  gracious,  parting  glance.  The 
Cabinetsriithin  said  to  him,  as  he  was  about 
to  take  his  place  in  the  second  carriage,  — 

"Your  cause  stands  well,  in  spite  of  the 
very  learned  and  honorable  Court  Wolfs- 
garten." 

The  departure  of  the  court  was,  to 
a  large  circle  of  the  visitors,  like  the  with- 
drawal of  the  bride  from  the  marriage 
dance;  the  dancing  goes  on,  there  is  an 
exaggerated  assumption  of  gaiety,  but  the 
main  point  of  interest  is  wanting. 

Crowds  of  people  came  and  went ;  the 
lively  circle,  of  which  Bella  formed  the 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


373 


centre,  lost  every  day  one  or  another  of  its 
members  ;  Sonnenkamp  was  often  obliged, 
against  his  will,  to  grace  a  departure  with 
his  offering  of  flowers.  Bella,  and  Clod- 
wig  too,  now  prepared  to  depart.  Erie  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  a  close  at- 
tachment had  been  formed  between  Clod- 
wig  and  his  friend  and  teacher,  Professor 
Einsiedel. 

The  last  few  days  were  a  pleasant  relief 
to  Eric  and  Roland,  after  the  life  of  excite- 
ment that  had  gone  before.  They  took 
even  the  loss  of  Clodwig  and  Bella  lightly, 
for  they  still  had  Professor  Einsiedel. 
Sonnenkamp  and  Frau  Ceres,  on  the  con- 
trary, were  sorely  out  of  spirits ;  they  felt 
like  persons  who  have  outlived  their  day. 

Sonnenkamp  compared  himself  to  a  bou- 
quet that  has  not  found  a  purchaser. 
What  is  it  at  evening  ?  It  is  put  in  water 
through  the  night ;  the  withered  flowers 
are  pulled  off  the  next  morning,  and  it  is 
again  'exposed  for  sale.  Will  the  success 
be  any  better  this  time  ?    It  must  be  tried. 

The  men  and  women,  who,  as  long  as 
Bella  was  present  had  been  their  constant 
associates,  now  saluted  them  formally,  and 
joined  themselves  to  new  comers.  They 
often  met  Professor  Crutius  in  company 
with  a  number  of  Americans  who  were  at 
the  Baths,  and  who  almost  always  looked 
curiously  at  Sonnenkamp.  Crutius  himself 
hardly  acknowledged  his  friendly  greetings. 

The  morning  fixed  for  departure  came 
at  last ;  Sonnenkamp  and  his  retinue  set  off 
in  three  carriages.  There  were  fewer 
friends  to  bid  them  good-bye  than  they 
had  expected,  yet  still  the  carriages  were 
adorned  with  flowers ;  there  was  a  wreath 
upon  the  roof  of  Sonnenkamp's  coach,  and 
even  the  spokes  of  the  wheels  were  twined 
with  garlands ;  the  postilion  also  wore  a 
wreath.  All  had  the  appearance  of  being 
done  by  friends,  but  was  in  reality  the  work 
of  Lootz. 

The  party  breakfasted  in  the  open  air, 
and  entered  the  carriages  quietly  from  the 
street,  without  returning  to  the  house. 

Professor  Einsiedel  was  among  those 
who  came  to  take  leave,  and,  drawing 
Manna  a  little  apart,  he  said  to  her  in  a 
low  voice,  — 

"  I  told  you  in  my  last  lecture — I  beg 
your  pardon,  my  dear  child  ;  I  forgot  I  was 
speaking  only  to  you.  I  have  already  told 
you  of  my  desire  to  enter  a  convent,  but 
a  free  convent,  now  that  I  have  grown 
weary  of  life  in  the  world,  am  solitary,  and 
am  inclined  to  finish  in  retirement  whatever 
I  may  still  be  able  to  accomplish.  But 
whether  yoa,  my  dear  child,  before  you 


have  done  with  life,  should  withdraw  your- 
self from  it,  is  a  question  you  ought  very 
seriously  to  consider ;  there  can  be  no  more 
terrible  fate  than  to  feel  your  soul  filled 
with  all  manner  of  unrest  when  you  have 
taken  the  vow  to  consecrate  yourself  to  the 
noblest  thoughts.  Consider  it  seriously, 
dear  child ;  I  speak  only  from  my  interest 
in  your  welfare,  my  heartfelt  interest," 
said  the  little  man,  in  a  voice  broken  with 
emotion. 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  believe  you,"  answered 
Manna.  The  tears  stood  .  in  her  eyes,  and 
two  big  drops  fell  upon  the  flowers  she  held 
in  her  hand. 

Roland  came  up  to  them  and  took  off  his 
hat  to  the  Professor,  who,  laying  his  hand 
on  the  boy's  head,  said,  — 

"  Keep  on  well,  and  remember  that  you 
too  have  a  friend  in  me." 

Roland  was  too  much  moved  to  speak ; 
he  could  only  kiss  the  old  man's  delicate 
childlike  hand.  The  people  at  a  distance 
looked  on  in  amazement.  The  postilion 
blew  his  horn  till  he  started  the  echoes  in 
mountain  and  valley.  With  no  decisive 
point  gained,  they  left  the  place  where  they 
had  experienced  so  much  that  was  painful 
and  pleasant. 

The  carriage  rolled  on  for  a  long  time 
without  a  word  being  spoken ;  at  last  Ro- 
land said  softly  to  Eric  :  — 

"  Now  I  have  a  grandfather  too." 

Eric  remained  silent.  Roland's  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  the  flowers  that 
strewed  the  road ;  not  only  withered  flow- 
ers, but  fresh  bunches  also  that  had  been 
thrown  after  the  departing  guests,  and  now 
lay  in  the  street  to  be  crushed  under  the 
carriage  wheels.  He  was  reminded  of 
Manna's  complaint  at  the  waste  of  flowers 
here,  and  thought  how  just  it  was. 

Manna  sat  buried  in  thought.  She  had 
come  to  the  Baths  only  for  the  sake  of  being 
with  her  family,  yet  in  no  one  of  the  party 
had  such  a  vital  change  been  effected. 
But  she  did  not  own  it  yet  even  to  herself. 
She  silently  folded  her  hands  and  prayed. 

They  reached  the  station. 

"  Hear  the  whistle  of  the  engine  !  "  said 
Roland.  "  I  feel  that  we  are  already  at 
home,  now  I  hear  that  whistle,  don't  you? 
We  seem  to  have  been  in  a  different  world 
where  that  sound  never  reaches.  I  hope 
we  shall  find  all  right  at  home." 

Eric  rejoiced  in  Roland's  animation,  and 
told  him  they  must  keep  up  good  courage 
if  they  did  find  some  things  changed.  They 
would  not  let  anything  spoil  the  pleasure 
of  their  getting  home  again. 


374 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  AFTER-EFFECTS. 

"You  will  see  the  effects  by-and-by," 
the  Doctor  had  ^aid  to  Sonnen kamp  and 
his  wife  at  their  departure.  "  You  will  see 
the  effect  by-and-by,"  had  been  the  point  of 
the  Cabinetsrath's  parting  words. 

The  Sonnenkamps  returned  to  the  Rhine, 
full  of  fresh  expectations. 

They  arrived  at  the  villa  and  found 
everything  in  excellent  condition.  The 
great  corridor,  connecting  the  green-houses 
with  the  stables,  a  graceful  structure  of 
cast  iron  which  Sonnenkamp  had  planned 
before  his  4eParture>  was  completed,  and 
its  iron  pillars  already  so  hung  with  climb- 
ing plants,  that  no  trace  of  its  being  a  re- 
cent addition  appeared.  Sonnenkamp  ex- 
pressed the  satisfaction  he  felt. 

Every  one  felt  himself  animated  with  fresh 
cheerfulness.  The  pleasant  home  feeling 
was  enhanced  by  the  recent  excitements  of 
the  journey. 

Sonnenkamp  asked' if  many  strangers  had 
visited  the  bouse  and  garden  during  his  ab- 
sence, for  he  allowed  the  servants  every 
year  the  privilege  of  exhibiting  to  visitors, 
while  he  was  at  the  Baths,  the  lower  story 
of  the  villa,  the  hot-houses,  fruit-garden, 
and  stables. 

The  butler  replied  that  there  had  never 
been  so  many  visitors  as  this  year,  and  that 
he  had  pointed  out  to  every  one  the  place 
where  the  Prince  and  Princess  had  sat. 

Sonnenkamp  ordered  the  man  to  bring 
him  the  visitor's  book,  which  was  kept  in 
the  billiard-room,  a  great  hall  adjoining  the 
hot-houses.  Strict  orders  were  given  that 
only  names  should  be  inscribed  in  the  book. 
In  an  excited  tone  he  asked,  after  reading 
a  long  list  of  names  :  — 

"  Who  wrote  that?  " 

At  first  no  one  confessed  to  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  names,  but  finally  the  second 
gardener,  the  '  squirrel,'  said  that  two  gentle- 
men had  come  together,  one  of  whom 
wanted  once  to  be  Roland's  tutor;  and  the 
other  was  a  tall,  stately  man  who  spoke 
Westphalian  German.  The  tall  man*  with 
the  light  curling  hair,  did  not.  write  any- 
thing, but  the  other,  whom  he  addressed  as 
Professor,  wrote  all  these  names.  The 
man  remembered  being  struck  by  it  at  the 
time. 

Sonnenkamp  at  once  concluded  that  the 
man  who  had  written  the  names  could  be 
no  other  than  Professor  Crutius.  The 
names  were  those  of  the  leaders  of  the 
slave  party  in  the  Southern  States.  It  was 
out  of  the  question  that  these  men  had  been 


there  themselves ;  but  what  meant  this  re- 
minder of  them  ? 

The  matter  disturbed  Sonnenkamp  for  a 
while,  but  he  finally  succeeded  in  dismiss- 
ing it  from  his  mind. 

"  Your  old  enemy,"  he  said  almost  aloud 
to  himself,  "has  come  back,  and  that  is 
nothing  but  your  unhappy  brooding  imagi- 
nation.'" 

Eric  himself  had  no  greater  pleasure  in 
embracing  his  mother  again,  than  Roland 
and  Manna  felt. 

"  You  and  Aunt  Claudine,"  cried  Roland, 
"  are  dearer  to  me  than  all  the  trees  in  the 
park,  the  house,  and  everything  else.  You 
too  have  been  staying  here  faithfully,  wait- 
ing for  us  to  come  home.  How  good  it  is 
to  have  you  here,  that  we  may  have  some 
one  to  receive  us  when  we  come  back  !  " 

The  boy's  whole  heart  swelled  with  in- 
ward happiness. 

Manna  said  nothing,  but  her  look  showed 
how  deeply  she  felt  the  peaceful  influence 
of  the  two  ladies.  She  found  in  this  little 
home  some  of  the  rest  she  had  found  in  the 
convent,  and  yet  here  no  outward  vows  had 
been  taken ;  these  two  women  were  com- 
pletely free.  By  little  and  little,  she  told 
the  mother  about  Professor  Einsiedel,  and 
rejoiced  her  by  showing  her  appreciation' of 
the  deep  consecration  of  spirit,  to  which  this 
student  of  science  had  attained. 

Sonnenkamp  was  more  thoughtful  than 
ever.  This  striving  after  a  title  seemed 
to  him  a  loss  of  independence,  a  loss  that 
he  was  voluntarily  incurring.  He  returned 
from  the  Baths  with  the  impression,  that 
he  should  be  always  treated  by  the  nobles 
themselves  as  a  stranger  and  an  interloper, 
and  would  always  have  to  be  on  his  guard 
against  misconstruction  of  his  smallest  ac- 
tions. The  words  of  the  Banker  rang  in 
his  ears :  Every  one  should  hold  fast  to 
the  distinction  of  being  a  self-made  man. 

Was  it  not  better  that  a  man  should  be 
the  source  of  his  own  honor,  than  that  he 
should  allow  it  to  be  conferred  upon  him  by 
another? 

Here  he  was  brought  up  before  an  insur- 
mountable wall.  He  was  vexed  at  having 
to  worry  and  brood  so  over  the  matter,  yet 
he  could  not  dismiss  it  from  his  mind.  He 
had  just  come  to  the  resolution  of  begging 
the  Cabinetsrath  to  give  it  all  up,  when  he 
received  a  letter  from  him,  saying  that  the 
matter  might  be  considered  as  in  a  fair  way 
of  being  satisfactorily  concluded." 

Sonnenkamp  looked  about  him  when  he 
had  read  the  words.  Now  he  had  it  in  his 
grasp,  and  he  would  throw  it  from  him. 
There  would  be  more  greatness,  more  sat- 
isfaction, in  that  than  accepting  it.  But 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OK  THE  RHINE. 


375 


then  what  would  become  of  Frau  Ceres, 
Manna,  and  Roland  ?  How  could  he  draw 
back  ?  For  a  moment  the  thought  passed 
through  his  mind  that  he  would  sell  all  his 
property  here  and  remove  to  Switzerland, 
France,  or  Italy.  But  he  imagined  the 
longing  he  would"  feel  to  be  back  here  a°jain  ; 
he  felt  that  the  social  position  and  consider- 
ation to  which  he  had  grown  accustomed 
here,  had  become  a  necessity  to  him.  He 
walked  among  the  trees  which  he  had  plant- 
ed, which  he  had  trained  and  cared  for,  and 
felt  that  they  had  grown  to  be  a  part  of 
himself;  he  looked  towards  the  Rhine,  and 
was  conscious  of  that  magic  power  of  at- 
traction which  takes  possession  of  every  one 
who  has  once  made  his  home  beside  it. 

Forward  !  he  cried  to  himself.  The  ball 
has  been  set  rolling  and  must  reach  its 
goal ! 

He  read  the  letter  again,  and  perceived 
that  the  Jewish  banker  had  applied  for  a 
title  at  the  same  time  with  himself,  but, 
strange  to  say,  had  withdrawn  his  name. 
The  letter  also  said  that  an  expression  of 
opinion  from  Herr  Weidmann  was  expect- 
ed, and  as  it  was  not  sure  how  he  would 
view  the  case,  it  would  be  desirable  for 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  to  cultivate  a  closer  ac- 
quaintance with  him. 

Another  point  in  the  letter  gave  Sonnen- 
kamp cause  for  wonder;  the  Cabinetsrath, 
with  many  charges  of  secresy,  wrote  that 
the  opinion  of  Count  Wolfsgarten  had  been 
most  plainly  spoken,  but  that  a  remark  of 
his  had  decided  the  case  in  Herr  Sonnen- 
kam p's  favor. 

Here  were  too  many  riddles.  Sonnen- 
kamp resolved  to  do  nothing  for  the  pres- 
ent. He.  had  been  kept  waiting  so  long 
that  others  might  as  well  take  their  turn 
at  it. 

The  Doctor  came  and  reviewed  the  fam- 
ily. He  thought  that  all  had  been  benefit- 
ed by  the  Baths,  but  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
was  still  feeling  too  much  the  exciting  ef- 
fects of  the  life  there. 

The  Doctor  had  felt  the  pulse  of  each  one, 
and  reviewed  them  all,  but  that  did  not  tell 
him  the  changes  that  had  taken  place  in 
their  souls. 

Frau  Ceres  was  as  tired  and  bored  as  ever, 
and  thought  it  terrible  to  come  back  to  hav- 
ing nothing  to  hear  of  but  the  beauties  of 
nature. 

Manna  could  hardly  believe  that  she  had 
been  through  so  much  noise  and  excitement. 

The  most  opposite  effects,  however,  had 
been  produced  upon  Roland  and  Eric. 

Eric  had  to  acknowledge  that  Professor 
Einssedel's  warnings  had  been  just.  In  this 
life  of  dissipation,  of  constant  devotion  to 


others,  his  own  self  was  getting  lost.  He 
wished  now  to  hedge  in  a  certain  enclosure 
about  himself  that  he  could  devote  to  study, 
and  in  which  he  could  build  up  his  own  life 
anew.  He  set  Roland  solitary  tasks,  and 
in  reply  to  his  questions  often  gave  evasive 
and  unsatisfactory  answers,  telling  him  that 
he  wanted  to  leave  him  to  work  out  as  many 
questions  as  he  could  by  himself. 

Roland  for  the  first  time  felt  deserted  by 
Eric,  and  at  a  time,  too,  when  be  needed 
him  more  than  ever.  The  idle  life  at  the 
Baths,  the  excitement,  the  gaieties,  the  con- 
stant intercourse  with  men  and  women  who 
openly  expressed  their  admiration  for  him, 
all  this  left  in  his  heart,  as  soon  as  the  first 
feeling  of  delight  in  getting  home  had  passed 
away,  a  void,  a  restless  craving,  which  made 
the  quiet  of  the  house,  the  regular  routine 
of  study,  an  intolerable  burden  to  him.  He 
wanted  to  be  away  among  people  again, 
among  his  comrades. 

The  Cadet  told  him  that  he  had  been 
made  an  ensign,  and  should  soon  make  him 
a  visit,  with  some  of  his  comrades. 

Roland  kept  impatiently  looking  out  for 
some  diversion,  some  excitement.  A  re- 
mark of  the  long  lieutenant,  that  he  ought 
no  longer  to  be  under  the  rule  of  a  tutor, 
rose  to  his  mind,  and  made  him  fret  under 
his  want  of  freedom. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  he  sought  his  father, 
and  asked  if  the  title  of  nobility  had  not 
been  received  yet.  Sonnenkamp  comfort- 
ed him  as  well  as  he  could  from  day  to  day, 
but,  happening  to  tell  hi  m  once  that  Eric 
knew  of  what  was  in  anticipation,  Roland 
was  filled  with  anger.  Why  had  Eric  never 
said  a  word  to  him  about  it  ? 

Eric's  mother  became  conscious  of  the 
change  in  Roland  long  before  Erie  himself 
did,  but  he  perceived  it  at  last,  and  laid 
aside  his  own  work.  But  his  efforts  to  re- 
gain his  old  influence  over  his  pupil  seemed 
for  a  time  quite  fruitless.  An  unexpected 
event  was  to  come  to  his  assistance. 

The  Major  came  one  day  with  a  request, 
that  Sonnenkamp  would  allow  the  Free 
Masons  to  have  an  entertainment  in  the 
newly  finished  armory  of  the  castle,  as  Herr 
Weidmann  was  desirous  of  having  the  fete 
come  off  there.  Sonnenkamp's  first  impulse 
was  to  consent,  feeling  some  surprise  at  the 
extraordinary  coincidence  that  should  lead 
Weidmann  to  enter  into  communication 
with  him  just  at  this  time.  Unwilling  to 
appear  too  eager  to  oblige,  however,  he 
asked  why  Herr  Weidmann  had  not  made 
the  request  himself. 

This  seemed  to  embarrass  the  Major  some- 
what, for  he  could  not  explain  that  the  sug- 
gestion had  originated  with  himself,  and 


376 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


that  Weidmann  bad  sharply  refused  to  have 
any  dealings  with  Sonnenkamp. 

Sonnenkamp  asked  if  he  might  be  in- 
formed of  the  names  of  the  persons  in  the 
neighborhood  who  belonged  to  the  body, 
and  found,  upon  looking  over  the  list  the 
Major  handed  him,  that  there  were  not 
enough  names  of  consideration  among  them  ; 
even  Herr  von  Endlieh  having  withdrawn 
his,  since  his  elevation  to  the  ranks  of  the 
nobility.  Sonnenkamp  therefore  deelined, 
but  requested  the  Major  to  bring  about,  in 
some  way,  a  nearer  acquaintance  between 
himself  and  Weidmann. 

"  I  know  an  excellent  •way,"  said  the 
Major.  "  Herr  Weidmann  is  very  desirous 
of  receiving  a  visit  from  Roland  and  Eric. 
Send  them  to  him." 

This,  too,  Sonnenkamp  declined,  thinking 
it  not  his  place  to  make  advances  towards 
a  man  who  kept  aloof  as  Weidmann  did. 
The  following  day,  as  he  was  riding,  he  al- 
most dropped  the  bridle  from  his  hand,  on 
meeting  a  carriage  in  which  sat  Weidmann, 
and,  beside  him,  a  man  who  ought  to  be  on 
the  other  side  of  the  ocean. 

The  man  was  remarkably  tall,  and  had  a 
strikingly  fresh  and  youthful  appearance. 
As  Sonnenkamp  rode  by,  Weidmann  bowed. 
His  companion  seemed  surprised,  but  raised 
his  hat  also,  and  in  so  doing  showed  a  head 
which  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  thick, 
wavy  hair,  the  high  forehead,  the  kindly 
expression,  in  the  glance  of  the  blue  eyes, 
were  all  unmistakable.  Sonnenkamp  could 
not  help  looking  back,  to  make  sure  that  he 
had  not  been  deceived.  The  stranger  in  the 
wagon  also  had  risen  and  was  looking  back, 
and  Sonnenkamp's  eye  detected  something 
like  a  nod,  such  as  a  man  might  make  who 
found  his  suspicions  confirmed. 

Sonnenkamp  reined  in  his  horse,  feeling 
weak  and  paralyzed,  as  if  he  could  no  longer 
keep  his  seat  in  the  saddle.  Yes,  'tis  he  ! 
'Tis  his  deadly  enemy,  his  most  violent  an- 
tagonist !  How  happens  he  here  now  ?  He 
listened  until  he  no  longer  heard  the  rat- 
tling of  the  wheels,  and  then  turned  and 
walked  his  horse  towards  home.  But 
shortly  after,  gathering  up  the  reins,  and 
whipping  and  spuring  his  black  steed,  he 
rode  toward  the  Major's. 

He  did  not  find  him  at  home.  Fraulein 
Milch,  whom  he  always  disliked,  was  there, 
and  told  him  that  the  Major  was  at  the  castle. 

He  rode  to  the  castle,  and  in  a  very  nat- 
ural way  spoke  of  a  visitor  at  Weidmann's. 
The  Maior  stated  that  Weidmann's  nephew, 
Doctor  Fritz  had  been  there  now  for  a  short 
time,  having  come  to  take  away  his  child, 
who  had  been  at  Mattenheim  under  Knopf's 
instruction. 


"  Was  this  visitor  at  the  villa  while  I  was 
away  ?  "  asked  Sonnenkamp. 

'*  Yes,  indeed,  he  and  Professor  Crutius. 
Both  of  'em  were  highly  delighted  with  the 
beauty  of  your  house,  and  your  skill  in  gar- 
dening. The  seeds  I  bought  of  the  head- 
gardener  are  for  Dr.  Fritz,  who  '11  take  them 
to  America.  Send  Eric  and  Roland  to 
Mattenheim  ;  'twill  be  delightful  to  both  of 
'em  to  know  the  excellent  Doctor  Fritz,  but 
you  must  do  it  speedily,  for  I  hear  he's  go- 
ing away  very  soon." 

Eric  and  Roland,  fortunately,  came  just 
at  this  moment  to  the  castle,  and  the  Major 
took  great  satisfaction  in  spurring  them  up 
to  make,  at  last  the  visit  to  Weidmann. 
Roland  was  highly  delighted  that  there  was 
some  diversion  in  prospect,  that  he  was  to 
make  a  journey  and  break  in  upon  the  hum- 
drum life ;  and  Eric  hoped  that  Roland 
would  receive  a  new  impulse  from  observing 
a  life  of  active  usefulness. 

This  time,  Sonnenkamp  laid  his  plans 
more  prudently.  With  Clodwig,  Eric  had 
brought  nothing  to  pass,  although  he  had 
had  a  direct  commission  ;  but  now  he  gave 
Eric  instructions  which  appeared  very  nat- 
ural under  the  circumstances,  but  which 
would  enable  him  to  gain  a  knowledge  of 
everything  which  it  was  important  for  him- 
self to  know.  Eric  was  to  send  a  message 
after  several  days,  and  then  Sonnenkamp 
would  come  for  him  at  Mattenheim.  In  the 
mean  time  he  wanted  to  make  a  carriage- 
journey  to  another  part  of  the  country. 

In  the  morning,  when  Eric  and  Roland 
were  setting  out  for  Mattenheim,  Manna 
concluded  to  make  her  long  delayed  call 
upon  the  Priest.  Fräulein  Perini  had  said 
in  direct  terms,  that  the  Priest  had  ex- 
pressed his  surprise  at  her  not  having  been 
to  see  him  since  her  return  home.  Fräu- 
lein Perini  wanted  Manna  to  hear  from  her- 
self, that  she  had  been  at  the  Priest's  ;  but 
of  course,  she  did  not  inform  her  that  she 
had  given  to  the  Priest  a  very  circumstan- 
tial account  of  their  residence  at  Carlsbad. 

Manna  had  no  sooner  entered  the  Priest's 
house,  than  she^  wanted  to  turn  back  again 
immediately,  for  she  learned  from  the  house- 
keeper that  the  Dean  from  the  capital  was 
on  a  visit  to  the  Priest.  But  the  latter 
must  have  heard  her  when  she  arrived,  for 
he  came  out  and  led  her  by  the  hand  into 
the  study.  He  introduced  her  to  the  Dean 
as  a  postulant. 

Manna  did  not  know  what  he  meant ;  and 
the  Dean,  perceiving  this,  explained  to  her 
that  he  knew  of  her  pure  purpose  to  take 
the  veil. 

Manna  cast  down  her  eyes  timidly  and 
humbly,  while  she  was  obliged  to  listen  to 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


377 


her  praises  from  both  of  the  men.  She  could 
not  help  herself,  and  yet  she  experienced  a 
deep  internal  conflict. 

The  Dean  asked  if  there  had  been  any 
high  dignitary  of  the  Church  at  the  springs, 
and  Manna  said  that  there  had  not. 

When  the  Priest  now  asked  if  she  had  be- 
come acquainted  with  any  men  of  distin- 
guished attainments,  Manna  considered  it 
her  duty  to  mention  particularly  Professor 
Einsiedel. 

"  Then  you  have  made  the  acquaintance 
of  that  incarnate,  shrivelled  up  darkness 
—  that  miserable  mannikin,  who  is  fond  of 
being  styled  an  ancient  Greek  ?  " 

Both  of  the  men  laughed,  and  Manna  was 
amazed  to  see  how  the  Professor,  so  highly 
venerated  by  her,  was  made  a  complete 
laughing  stock.  She  did  not  feel  adequate 
to  defend  him  here,  and  kept  silence.  "  We 
will  accompany  you  home,11  said  the  Priest 
at  last.  "  You,  my  honored  fellow  la- 
borer, must  see  for  once  the  beautiful 
villa.11 

Escorted  by  the  two  ecclesiastics  Manna 
went  home,  appearing  to  herself  like  a  cap- 
tured criminal,  and  yet  the  men  were  very 
friendly  and  confiding. 


They  met  Sonnenkamp  in  the  courtyard. 
He  was  very  complaisant  and  respectful ; 
and  he  took  especial  satisfaction  in  showing 
to  the  highly  venerated  men  the  park,  the 
orchard,  the  hot-houses,  and,  finally,  the 
villa. 

The  Dean  exhibited  a  fine  appreciation 
of  everything,  and  when  Sonnenkamp  dwelt 
upon  the  fact,  with  a  certain  degree  of  pride, 
that  every  fire-place  had  its  own  separate 
flue,  he  all  at  once  noticed  that  the  Dean 
exchanged  a  passing  glance  with  the  Priest, 
at  the  same  time  wearing  a  satisfied  smile. 

Ho,  ho  !  thought  Sonnenkamp.  You  think 
that,  do  you  ?  These  men  are  taking  a  view 
of  the  villa,  in  order  already  to  make  their 
dispositions  how  to  turn  this  house  into  a 
convent,  when  Manna  has  carried  out  her 
plan  ?  Ho,  ho  !  I  would  rather  burn  up  the 
house  and  everything  in  it  ! 

The  two  ecclesiastics  could  not  under- 
stand why  the  expression  of  Sonnenkamp^ 
countenance  was  so  suddenly  changed  and 
so  exultant ;  he  was  delighted  to  penetrate 
the  deception  of  other  people.  He  bore 
the  men  company  as  far  as  the  gate,  and 
begged  them  to  visit  his  modest  house  very 
frequently. 


378 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


BOOK  XI.     CHAPTER  I. 

A  FAIRY  STORY  AT    THE  AGRICULTURAL 
FAIR. 

Eric  and  Holand  walked  inland  over  the 
hills,  keeping  step  together^ 

There  is  no  better  time  for  a  pedestrian 
journey,  than  some  bright  day  of  the  early 
autumn ;  the  eows  are  pasturing  in  the 
meadows,  the  vegetable  produets  are  being 
harvested  in  the  fields,  the  foliage  assumes 
variegated  colors  on  the  trees,  and  all  day 
there  is  a  dewy,  morning,  or  rather,  evening 
freshness  in  the  air,  for  the  evening  of 
summer  is  now  coming  on.  All  nature  ap- 
pears sated,  and  like  one  who  has  accom- 
plished his  work. 

Eric  and  Roland  wandered  on,  as  if  they 
must  so  wander  on  forever,  with  no  rest,  no 
goal,  always  keeping  step.  And  yet  they 
had  a  goal,  Eric  especially.  Roland  had 
never  yet  seen  a  life  of  active  endeavor, 
and  now  he  was  to  be  made  acquainted 
with  one. 

Eric  related  to  him,  as  they  were  going 
along,  his  own  life-history,  but  in  a  wholly 
different  way  from  his  narration  to  Clodwig, 
and  afterwards  to  Sonnenkamp,  dwelling 
principally  upon  the  failure  of  his  military 
career.  This  must  have  its  influence  upon 
Roland. 

Eric  had  the  feeling  that  this  was  the  last 
journey  he  should  make  with  Roland ;  and 
the  latter  confirmed  this  feeling  when  he 
related  that  Pranken  had  already  bespoken 
a  uniform  for  him;  late  in  the  autumn  he 
would  enter  the  military  school. 

Roland  also  spoke  particularly,  for  the 
first  time,  of  Knopf,  the  teaeher  at  Matten- 
heim. He  frankly  said  that  before  he  en- 
tered a  different  course  of  life,  he  should 
like  to  become  reconciled  with  him.  And 
Eric  now  learned  how  deeply  Roland  had 
wounded  his  former  tutor.  He  and  a  for- 
mer valet,  who  had  been  the  instigator,  had 
cut  off  the  beard  on  one  side  of  Knopfs 
face,  while  he  was  asleep ;  he  sincerely  re- 
gretted this  now,  and  wanted  to  acknowl- 
edge it  to  Herr  Knopf. 

And  so  this  journey  had  a  variety  of  ends 
in  view. 

They  were  all  the  time  going  farther 
away  from  the  Rhine,  and  the  country  had 
a  poorer  look.  They  now  met  cows  decked 
with  gay  ribbons  ;  hogs  and  sheep,  and  also 
choice  products  of  the  fields,  were  carried 
along,  arranged  in  excellent  order. 

"  What's  going  on?1' 

"It's  the  District  Agricultural  Fair  at 
Mattenheim. " 

They  reached  the  village  at  a  short  dis- 


tance from  Weidinann's  property ;  it  was 
adorned  with  flags,  and  peasants  stood  in 
their  wagons  decorated  with  garlands,  and 
imitated  in  sport  their  different  occupations. 

Here  was  one  wagon  with  threshers, 
another  with  reapers,  and  others  with  weav- 
ers, vine-dressers,  shinglers,  and  wood- 
cutters ;  every  sort  of  heavy  work  had  been 
turned  for  once  into  play.  The  horses  and 
oxen  that  were  harnessed  to  the  wagons 
wore  garlands  and  ribbons,  and  everybody 
was  shouting,  rejoicing,  and  welcoming  the 
fresh  arrivals. 

They  entered  the  village. 

Flags  were  streaming  from  the  Rathhaus  ; 
they  said  that  Weidmann  was  there  deliv- 
ering a  discourse. 

They  went  in. 

In  the  great  hall  Weidmann  was  standing 
behind  a  table,  and  giving  to  the  people  a 
scientific  and  at  the  same  time  a  perfectly 
comprehensible  and  directly  practical  essay 
on  the  best  method  of  "  making  flesh ;  "  for 
such  was  the  term  he  continually  used  in 
speaking  of  feeding.  "  Making  flesh  "  was 
his  constantly  recurring  theme ;  and  he 
pointed  out  the  different  kinds  and  quanti- 
ties of  food,  how  roots  and  oil-cakes  must 
be  alternated  and  supplied  so  as  to  give  the 
most  nourishment,  laying  a  special  empha- 
sis upon  the  necessity  of  accurate  calcula- 
tion in  order  to  receive  the  proper  returns. 

He  had  a  thermometer  in  his  stable,  and 
the  heat  there  was  never  allowed  to  be 
above  63  1-2°  Fahrenheit ;  he  had  also  a  tel- 
egraphic clock  which  communicated  from 
the  stable  to  his  study,  so  that  he  could 
know,  to  a  minute,  whether  the  servants 
foddered  the  cattle  at  the  proper  time. 

He  represented  to  the  people  how  much 
better  off  they  were  with  a  small  amount  of 
landed  property,  for  they  could  have  it  all 
under  their  own  eye,  while  he  had  to  be  at 
the  mercy  of  hired  laborers  ;  and  one  could 
know  very  well  when  Monday  came,  for  on 
Sunday  there  was  always  bad  foddering. 
Each  cow  has  its  own  name,  and  a  register 
is  kept  of  the  amount  of  milk  from  each, 
and  any  one  that  does  not  come  up  to  the 
requisite  standard  to  yield  a  profit  is  got 
rid  of. 

He  repeated  to  his  hearers  often,  how, 
within  the  circuit  of  a  few  miles,  more  than 
a  million  was  thrown  away  by  cutting  the 
grass  too  late,  and  not  getting  it  in  until  it 
had  become  dead  ripe.  And  he  succeeded 
in  setting  all  this  off  in  a  humorous  way. 

If  he  had  occasion  to  show  that  his 
method  was  profitable  pecuniarily,  he  would 
strike  his  hand  upon  his  pantaloons1  pocket, 
and  say :  — 

"  Then  there's  something  goes  in  here." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


379 


There  was  much  merriment  when  he 
illustrated  with  his  hand  the  remark  :  — 

"Profit  —  profit  is  the  whole  story. 
Just  look  at  this  !  The  human  hand  moves 
its  fingers  inward  towards  us,  not  outwards 
to  give  away." 

He  was  strongly  opposed  to  pasturing 
in  common;  and  everything  went  to  show 
that  people  were  foolish  and  wasteful,  since 
they  would  not  understand  how  to  procure 
good  food  for  themselves  by  means  of  their 
cattle. 

Roland  listened  with  astonishment,  won- 
dering at  this  man's  sphere  of  influence, 
who  showed  such  zeal  in  teaching  people 
how  to  feed  themselves  well. 

Eric  also  had  something  to  think  about ; 
for  when  Weidmann  declared  that  the  par- 
ticular breed  was  not  of  so  much  account, 
that  the  food  of  animals  was  a  far  more 
vital  matter  than  what  blood  they  were  of, 
Eric  cast  down  his  eyes.  Perhaps  he  made 
a  particular  application  of  the  remark. 

When  the  address  was  over,  Eric  and 
Roland  were  warmly  welcomed  by  Herr 
Weidmann;  and  on  Eric's  expressing  his 
satisfaction  at  the  address,  Weidmann  said  : 
"I  was  intended  once  for  a  parson,  and 
the  son  of  a  parson  still  sticks  to  me." 
Eric  replied,  smiling  :  — 
"  There  are  so  many  who  preach  about 
spirit,  that  it  is  well  for  you,  for  once,  to 
preach  about  flesh.11 

Weidmann  answered  very  seriously:  — 
"  But  I  do  not  at  all  deny  the  spirit;  it  is 
even  incomprehensible  to  me  how  people 
can  manage  not  to  believe  in  a  God.  I  find 
traces  of  him  everywhere.  But  we  will 
speak  of  this  by  and  by.    Let  us  go.11 

The  audience  went  out  into  the  street, 
where  the  procession  was  now  passing  along. 
First  came  the  fire-companies  of  that  and 
the  neighboring  villages,  fine  fresh-looking 
young  fellows  in  drab  linen  clothes,  with 
gleaming,  yellow  helmets  on  their  heads. 

"  This  is  a  new  order  of  things,11  Eric 
said  to  Weidmann. 

Weidmann  rejoined,  nodding:  —  "Yes, 
no  age  before  ours  has  had  the  like,  and 
who  knows  what  will  come  of  it !  " 

Now  the  wagons  came  along  with  their 
\  merry  occupants,  and  occasionally  the  fe- 
male hemp-dressers  would  scatter  chopped 
straw  upon  the  gazing  crowd.  New  wine 
was  handed  out  from  the  wagon,  and  a  joy- 
ous hilarity  was  everywhere  seen.  Weid- 
mann again  welcomed  his  guests,  saying 
that  he  woulfl.  take  them  home  with  him  at 
evening,  and  that  Herr  Knopf  would  be 
particularly  delighted.  He  introduced  them 
also  to  his  nephew,  Dr.  Fritz,  adding  that 
Herr  Knopf  held  himself  back  for  the  dance. 


They  next  proceeded  to  the  fair-grounds, 
where  the  prizes  were  being  awarded,  and 
Weidmann  took  his  guests  to  the  exhibition 
of  agricultural  implements.  He  pointed 
out  that  there  was  no  perfect  shovel  and 
no  perfect  plough,  and  commended  the  plan 
of  distributing  the  improved  implements  by 
lot  among  the  people. 

"  It  is  difficult,11  he  declared,  "  to  get  the 
peasant  to  adopt  any  new  invention  ;  the 
husbandman  cannot  be  an  innovator,  he 
must  not  be  ;  he  is  to  be  the  representative 
of  the  conservative  element,  and  yet  he 
must  keep  pace  with  the  progress  of  the 
new  age.  This  is  difficult,  and  great  pa- 
tience is  needed.11 

He  spoke  of  a  long  cherished  plan  he  had 
entertained  of  sending  out  agricultural  mis- 
sionaries, or  rather,  of  making  missionaries 
out  of  some  of  the  peasants  themselves  ;  for 
the  peasantry  always  had  a  prejudice  against 
a  man  who  made  use  of  learned  words. 

Roland  went  into  the  exhibition,  and 
round  among  the  multitude,  as  if  he  were 
suddenly  transported  into  a  wholly  new 
world.  Here  was  a  man,  living  only  a  few 
hours1  distance  from  Villa  Eden,  who  was 
laboring  with  such  zeal  and  such  devotion, 
in  order  to  supply  good  nourishment  to  his 
fellow  human  beings.  And  what  are  we 
trying  to  do?  Something  of  this  was  appa- 
rent when  he  said  to  Eric :  — 

"Herr  Weidmann  has  a  noble  calling, 
even  if  he  does  speak  a  great  deal  about 
manure.11 

Among  all  those  who  were  shouting  and 
rejoicing,  there  was  not  one  so  happy  as 
Eric  was,  when  he  heard  his  pupil  say  this. 
This  acknowledgment, —  that  none  of  the 
material  substances  on  which  human  activ- 
ity was  employed  were  impure,  if  one  consid- 
ered the  real  thought  thereby  unfolded, — 
this  was  a  result  far  beyond  his  expectation. 
He  congratulated  himself  on  having  come 
here  ;  here  must  Roland  find  his  true  voca- 
tion, he  must  devote  himself  to  agriculture, 
for  in  that  there  is  a  direct  means  of  bene- 
fiting the  many. 

"  You  must  see  my  pigs,11  urged  Weid- 
mann, "  Yorkshire  pigs,  six  weeks  old,  splen- 
did creatures  !  Have  you  too  an  antipathy 
to  pigs  ?  I  can  very  easily  imagine  it.  But, 
my  young  friend,  of  the  meat  that  goes  for 
food  in  our  country,  seventy  per  cent,  is 
pork,  twenty  per  cent,  beef  and  veal,  and 
only  ten  per  cent,  mutton,  lamb,  fowl, 
game,  etc.,  is  eaten.11 

The  Yorkshire  pigs  were,  in  fact,  very 
pretty-looking  animals. 

Roland  did  not  go  to  see  them,  but  re- 
mained a  long  time  looking  at  the  so-called 
Hercules'  Clubs,  or  the  Serpent's  Gourds, 


380 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


as  they  are  also  termed,  a  huge  growth, 
half  as  long  as  a  man,  and  double  the  thick- 
ness of  his  arm. 

The  prizes  were*  awarded,  the  rejoicing 
of  the  people  became  tumultuous,  and  it 
was  a  continual  delight  to  Eric  to  point  out 
to  his  pupil,  that  this  was  a  festival  got  up 
by  the  people  themselves,  and  was  estab- 
lished neither  by  Church  nor  State.  Weid- 
mann, who  heard  something  of  this,  added 
smiling :  — 

"Yes,  this  is  our  new  self-government  in 
all  matters,  high  and  low.  We  have  no 
overseers,  neither  consecrated  nor  unconse- 
crated." 

The  sun  shone  down  brightly  upon  the 
lively  scene  of*  joyous  festivity,  and  Roland, 
standing  upon  the  now  empty  platform,  said 
to  Eric :  — 

"  If  my  father  were  only  here  !  Suppose 
now  that  to  each  one  of  the  multitude  here, 
all  of  them, —  how  many  do  you  think  there 
are  ?  " 

"  At  least  a  thousand.1' 

"A  thousand  persons,"  he  repeated. 
"  Then,  if  one  should  give  this  very  minute 
a  thousand  gulden  to  each  one  of  them  ?  " 

"This  would  be  very  well  for  a  day,  a 
year,  or  even  several  years,  but  not  for  life. 
You  have  been  told  that  the  way  to  help 
people  is,  to  put  good  tools  into  their 
hands,  and  good  tools  into  their  souls,  so 
that  they  may  get  their  own  living  —  that's 
the  thing." 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  was  only  a  dream,"  said 
Roland,  and  his  countenance  fell. 

Why  had  Eric  not  shared  with  him  in  the 
joy  of  this  dream  ? 

It  was  time  for  them  to  go  to  the  dance ; 
they  heard  the  sound  of  music.  They  en- 
tered the  Raven  Inn,  where  a  green  garland 
was  hanging  outside,  and  inside,  peasants 
and  peasant  girls  were  dancing  merrily. 
On  a  little  platform  among  the  musicians 
there  was  a  man  playing  the  flute,  who 
nodded  to  them  as  they  came  in ;  it  was 
Knopf.  Roland  seized  Eric's  hand,  trem- 
bling, and  pointing  to  a  table  covered  with 
a  red  cloth  where  several  well-dressed  peo- 
ple were  sitting,  he  cried  :  — 

"  There  she  is  !    There  she  is  !" 

A  child  of  slender  form,  and  of  a  bloom- 
ing, rosy  countenance,  with  long,  flowing 
hair,  was  standing  on  the  knee  of  a  hand- 
some, powerfully  built  man,  with  a  massive 
head,  who  was  addressed  as  Doctor  Fritz. 

Knopf  gave  a  signal  to  the  trumpeter 
near  him,  and  the  dance  ceased.  He  came 
down,  and  shook  Eric  and  Roland  by  the 
hand.  Tears  stood  in  his  eyes  under  his 
huge  spectacles,  and  fell  upon  the  glasses,  so 


that  he  had  to  doff  his  spectacles,  and  look 
at  the  neAv-comers  with  blinking  eyes. 

"  You  come  at  a  good  time,  at  the  best. 
We  are  celebrating  the  District  Fair." 

"  Forgive  me,"  exclaimed  Roland. 

"  I  did  that  a  long  while  ago.  Dear  — 
you  have  grown  very  tall.    Come  with  me." 

lie  conducted  them  to  the  large  table, 
and  introduced  Eric  to  Frau  Weidmann. 
And  another  person,  who  was  sitting  behind 
the  table,  shook  Eric  and  Roland  by  the 
hand  ;  it  was  the  Russian,  who  was  now  liv- 
ing with  Weidmann  as  a  pupil:  Weid- 
mann's  two  sons,  Dr.  Fritz,  from  America, 
and  his  child,  were  also  introduced.  Roland 
and  the  maiden  gazed  at  each  other  as  if 
they  were  in  a  dream. 

"  Father,  this  is  the  Forest-prince  whom 
I  saw,"  said  the  maiden  to  the  handsome, 
strongly-built  man. 

Her  voice  made  Roland  look  round ;  so 
would  the  lilies  of  the  valley  have  rung  out 
their  soft  tones,  if  their  little  bells  could 
have  emitted  any  sound. 

The  adventure  in  the  wood  was  now  gaily 
narrated,  and  Knopf  was  especially  de- 
lighted. 

"Miracles  still  take  place!  Miracles 
still  take  place  !  "  he  kept  exclaiming,  flour- 
ishing at  the  same  time  his  flute.  "  But 
now,  children,  follow  me;  do  not  speak  — 
not  a  single  word.  Roland  can  dance,  and 
you  can  dance  too,  Lilian.  I  beg  you 
would  be  quiet !  "  he  cried  aloud  to  the  as- 
sembly. "  Our  children  are  going  to 
dance  —  our  children  are  going  to  dance  by 
themselves." 

He  stationed  himself  again  on  the  plat- 
form, and  played  a  waltz  on  his  flute ;  the 
children  danced,  and  all  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  them,  as  if  it  were  a  fairy  spectacle. 

Roland  and  Lilian  had  nut  yet  spoken  a 
word,  and  they  had  so  much  to  say  to  each 
other ;  but  they  were  dancing  together. 
Who  knows  how  long  Knopf  would  have 
kept  on  playing,  had  not  Dr.  Fritz  called 
out : — 

"That'll  do  for  the  present,  Herr  Can- 
didate ! "  Knopf  flinched  ;  the  word  can- 
didate, in  the  midst  of  this  fairy  tale, 
seemed  to  annoy  him,  it  sounded  so  horri- 
bly prosaic. 

Roland  and  Lilian  took  their  seat  with 
the  others  at  the  table.  Knopf  exhorted 
Lilian  to  give  her  partner  something  to 
drink,  but  Frau  Weidmann  insisted  upon 
the  children's  waiting  awhile  before  they 
drank.  They  sat  quietly,  looTung  at  each 
other  without  speaking. 

Eric  begged  that  his  coming  should  make 
no  interruption  in  their  plans,  but  Weid- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


381 


mann  declared  that  he  wanted  to  leave,  at 
any  rate ;  he  had  already  been  obliged  to 
answer  hundreds  of  questions.  Frau  Weid- 
mann regretted  that  the  best  rooms  in  the 
house  were  already  occupied,  and  that  Eric 
and  Roland  would  have  to  put  up  with  such 
poor  accommodations. 

"Don't  be  uneasy,"  interposed  "Weid- 
mann; "all  women,  even  the  best,  make 
apologies  for  their  housekeeping,  however 
good  it  may  be." 

The  whole  company  adjourned  from  the 
table  to  the  courtyard,  Dr.  Fritz  leading 
his  little  daughter  by  the  hand  ;  and  now  it 
was  learned  that  he  and  his  child  were  go- 
ing to  start  the  next  day  for  America. 

Knopf  took  Roland's  arm,  and  Eric  walked 
between  Weidmann  and  his  wife  ;  the  Rus- 
sian had  gone  out  into  the  fields  with  a  son 
of  Weidmann,  while  the  second  accompan- 
ied Dr.  Fritz.  Frau  Weidmann  could  not 
forbear  letting  Eric  know  why  her  husband 
was  so  taciturn ;  that  he  devoted  himself 
too  much  to  other  people,  and  then  he  came 
home  all  lagged  out.  Who  knows  whether 
he  would  not  have  taken  his  violin  and 
played  for  the  people,  if  Eric  had  not  come  ? 

Weidmann  declared  that  he  had  done 
this,  and  was  not  at  all  ashamed  of  it. 

Eric  replied  that  it  was  exceedingly  pain- 
ful to  see  how  often  it  was  that  one  was  al- 
most ashamed  of  manifesting  any  good  feel- 
ing in  the  world,  because  so  many  merely 
pretended  to  possess  it,  and  only  used  it  as 
a  means  of  acquiring  popularity. 

Weidmann  made  mention  of  Eric's  office 
in  the  House  of  Correction,  adding  that  the 
man  who  played  the  key-bugle  had  been  a 
convict  formerly,  and  had  conducted  him- 
self well  for  years. 

Frau  Weidmann,  who  was  of  the  opinion 
that  talking  was  too  much  of  an  exertion 
for  her  husband  at  present,  now  resumed 
the  thread  of  conversation,  and  asked  Eric 
whether  it  was  a  settled  matter  that  Pran- 
ken was  to  marry  the  rich  Sonnenkamp's 
daughter. 

Eric  could  not  keep  saying  yes,  and  Frau 
Weidmann  was  exceedingly  vexed. 

"  It  always  puts  me  out,"  she  said, 
"  when  a  healthy  and  wealthy  girl  of  the 
middle  class  marries  a  nobleman  ;  our  good, 
solid,  industrial  acquisitions  are  alienated. 
I  do  not  wish  to  say  that  the  noble  is  not 
our  friend ;  but  he  does  not  belong  to  us, 
he  considers  himself  something  different 
from  us,  and  the  fruit  of  our  toil  goes  to 
him.  A  girl  of  the  middle  class,  who  buys 
a  title  by  marriage,  betrays  her  ancestors, 
and  betrays  us  in  her  posterity.'' 

Frau  Weidmann  spoke  so  excitedly  and 
angrily,  that  her  husband  tried  in  vain  to 


pacify  her ;  he  took,  however,  the  wrong 
means,  informing  her  that  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp himself  wanted  to  receive  a  title. 

Eric  was  startled  to  hear  this  matter, 
which  had  been  regarded  as  a  great  secret, 
here  spoken  of  so  openly. 

Frau  Weidmann  had  a  special  dislike  to- 
wards Pranken ;  she  disliked  him  because 
he  induced  so  many  people  to  place  good 
breeding,  as  it  was  termed,  above  plain  up- 
rightness. You  could  hear  hundreds  of 
persons,  women  as  well  as  men,  speak  well 
of  him  in  spite  of  his  vicious  life,  because 
he  was  so  well  bred,  as  they  called'it. 

"Suppose  Manna  had  come  here?" 
thought  Eric  to  himself. 

Weidmann  turned  to  Eric  with  the  ex- 
planation that  his  wife  was  pretty  severe 
against  Pranken,  as  two  years  agD,  about 
the  time  that  Eric  had  taken  the  position 
at  Sonnenkamp's,' Pranken  had  spent  a  few 
days  at  Mattenheim,  and  in  that  short  time 
had  introduced  a  disorderly  state  of  things 
at  the  farm,  which  was  not  without  its  effects 
even  at  the  present  time. 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  PEBBLE  ANSWERS  FOR  A  JEWEL. 

Knopf,  meanwhile,  talked  much  with 
Roland,  and  congratulated  him  in  having  a 
man  like  Eric  for  a  teacher.  Roland  was  as 
inattentive  as  ever,  asking  at  last  only  this 
question,  — 

"  What  is  the  maiden's  name  ?  " 

"  Lilian.  And  this  is  the  miraculous  part 
of  it !  You  gave  her  in  the  wood  a  May- 
flower, and  the  Mayflower  is  also  called 
Lily  of  the  Vallev;' 

"  What's  her  lather?  " 

"A  famous  lawyer,  a  leading  opponent 
of  slavery." 

Knopf  would  rather  have  given  himself  a 
slap  on  the  mouth,  than  to  have  uttered 
what  he  did.  But  it  couldn't  be  unsaid. 
He  turned  suddenly  and  looked  sharply  at 
Roland,  and,  to  his  satisfaction,  he  became 
convinced  that  no  effect  had  been  produced 
upon  the  youth. 

During  the  whole  distance  they  seemed 
to  be  hearing  the  music  of  the  waltz,  and 
now,  as  they  approached  the  farm,  that 
ceased,  for  there  struck  upon  their  ears  the 
rushing  and  roaring  of  a  mill-stream  and 
the  clattering  of  a  mill.  The  stream  flowed 
underneath  a  large  part  of  the  house,  and 
turned  the  mill  constructed  there.  * 

"  You  will  not  sleep  well  to-night,"  said 
Knopf  to  Roland. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  you  must  first  get  used  to  the 
noise  of  the  mill ;  if  one  is  accustomed  to 


382 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


it,  he  sloops  the  more  soundly  for  it.  It 
was  so  with  my  little  pupil.'1 

Not  far  from  the  farm  buildings,  the  dif- 
ferent individuals,  meeting  again,  were  stand- 
ing near  the  palings  of  an  inclosure,  where 
Roland  was  delighted  with  the  handsome 
colts  that  Avcre  frisking  about  within,  and 
which  all  came  up  to  the  fence  when  they 
sniffed  Herr  Weidmanns  proximity. 

Ho  informed  thorn  that  this  was  his  "  lit- 
tle children's  school ;  "  he  had  established  a 
"  eoltgarten  "  for  colts,  to  which  all  the 
breeders  of  horses  in  the  district  sent  the 
foals.  There  was  good  pasture-land,  where 
they  could  perform  their  gymnastic  exer- 
cises, be  well-sheltered  and  safely  cared  for. 
This  helped  the  whole  surrounding  country 
in  the  rearing  of  horses. 

Roland  was  highly  pleased  with  this  in- 
formation, and  Eric  took  fresh  satisfaction 
in  the  thought  of  having  brought  him  here. 
A  man  like  Weidmann  would  exert  an  in- 
fluence over  Roland  such  as  no  other  per- 
son could. 

"Have  you  studied  chemistry  ?"  Weid- 
mann asked,  turning  to  Roland. 
He  said  no. 

Weidmann  looked  down,  then  up,  and 
asked. — 

"Have  you  determined  yet  what  you 
mean  to  do  ?  " 

For  the  first  time,  Roland  hesitated  to 
give  a  direct  answer. 

Weidmann  urged  the  matter  no  further. 
Eric  could  not  conceive  what  made  Roland 
so  timid ;  but  he  saw  clearly  what  a  great 
influence  this  man  had  acquired  over  his 
pupil.  Perhaps  also  what  Roland  had  heard 
caused  him  to  waver,  and  he  was  reluctant 
to  speak,  before  a  man  of  such  active  useful- 
ness, of  a  vocation  in  which  outward  show 
and  glory  were  the  ends  in  view. 

But  there  was  another  reason.  The 
child  with  golden  hair  let  go  her  father's 
hand,  went  up  to  Knopf  and  whispered  to 
him,  that  now  he  must  be  convinced  all  was 
true  she  had  told  him ;  that  he  had  never 
believed  she  had  met  any  one  in  the  wood, 
but  now  the  witness  was  before  his  eyes. 

Roland  whispered  to  Knopf,  that  Eric  had 
never  boon  disposed  to  believe  that  such  a 
thing  hud  really* happened  to  him. 

Knopf,  who  saw  himself  placed  in  the 
midst  of  wonder-land,  moved  his  hand  re- 
peatedly over  his  breast,  while  his  eyes 
gleamed  behind  his  spectacles.  Yes,  in  the 
very  midst  of  chemistry,  scientific  feeding, 
locomotive  whistles,  and  dividend  calcula- 
tions—  in  the  midst  of  all  this  there  was 
still  romance  loft  in  the  world.  True,  this 
happens  only  to  children  born  on  Sunday, 
and  Lilian  was  a  Sunday-child. 


He  only  wished  that  he  could  do  some- 
thing towards  deepening  and  making  last- 
ing this  gleaming  romance  of  their  wonderful 
meeting. 

But  thafs  just  it !  One  can't  do  any- 
thing in  this  sphere  of  the  romantic,  it 
always  comes  of  its  own  accord,  unexpected 
and  surprising ;  it  won't  be  regulated  and 
reasonably  built  up.  All  one  can  do  is,  to 
keep  still  and  hold  his  breath,  and  make  no 
sound ;  otherwise  the  charm  is  broken. 
He  had  to  do  something  to  further  it,  and 
he  did  the  very  best  thing ;  he  went  off  and 
left  the  children  by  themselves. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  but  neither 
spoke.  A  handsome  red  heifer,  with  a 
bell  on  her  neck  and  a  garland  over  her 
horns,  was  led  into  the  farm-yard.  The 
maiden  went  up  to  her,  and  stroking  her, 
said,  — 

"Ah,  good  evening,  Brindy  !  Do  you 
feel  proud  because  you've  taken  the  prize? 
Shall  you  tell  your  neighbors  of  it  ?  Will 
you  enjoy  yourself  now  at  home,  or  don't 
you  know  anything  about  your  honors  ?  " 

The  heifer  was  led  to  the  barn,  and  the 
child,  turning  to  Roland,  cried,  — 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  know  whether  the 
heifer  has  any  notion  of  what  has  happened 
to  her  ?  " 

As  Roland  was  still  silent,  the  child  con- 
tinued, very  seriously,  — 

"Don't  you  want  to  be  a  husbandman, 
and  have  my  uncle  teach  you  ?  Then  you 
can  have  my  room.    It's  beautiful  there  !  " 

The  maiden  found  words  sooner  than  Ro- 
land, who  still  did  not  open  his  lips. 

She  continued,  — 

' '  Whv  haven't  you  been  to  see  us  be- 
fore ?  " 

"I  did  not  know  where  you  lived,  nor 
who  vou  were." 

"Ah!    That  was  why!" 

And  now  they  talked  of  their  first  meet- 
ing, how  Lilian  was  carried  away  by  her 
uncle,  and  how  Roland  wandered  on  to  find 
Eric.  Then  it  was  spring,  and  now  it  is 
autumn. 

"Just  think!  In  your  lilies  there  were 
some  pretty  little  flies,  which  went  along 
with  us  in  the  carriage,  and  didn't  stir." 

"  Have  you  kept  the  flowers?  " 

"No.  I  don't  like  withered  flowers. 
Give  me  something — give  me  something, 
that  doesn't  wither." 

"  I  have  nothing,"  replied  Roland.  "  But 
I  will  send  you  my  photograph,  taken  as  a 
page  —  no/  That's  not  fit  for  you.  Oh, 
if  I  only  had  my  rings  now  !  I  should  like 
to  give  a  ring,  but  Herr  Eric  has  taken 
them  all  off  my  fingers." 

"  I  don't  want  any  ring.    Well,  give  me 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


383 


that  —  give  me  the  pebble  that's  now  under 
-your  foot." 

Roland  stooped  down,  and  giving  her  the 
pebble,  begged  she  would  also  give  him 
one. 

She  did  so,  saying,  — 

"Yes,  this  is  dearer  to  me.  I'd  rather 
have  that  than  anything  else.  Now  I  shall 
take  a  part  of  Germany  with  me  over  the 
ocean.  Oh,  Herr  Knopf  is  right ;  it  is  all 
one  whether  you  have  a  pebble  or  a  dia- 
mond, if  you  only  hold  it  dear;  and  it's  very 
stupid  for  people  to  wear  pearls  and  think 
that  it's  something  very  fine,  because  they 
must  be  got  away  down  deep  in  the  sea. 
Herr  Knopf  is  right ;  it  doesn't  make  a 
thing  beautiful  or  good  to  cost  a  great  deal.11 

Roland  was  silent ;  his  heart  beat  fast. 

"You  are  the  Roland  then,  of  whom  the 
good  Herr  Knopf  is  always  talking  ?  You 
can't  think  how  much  he  loves  you." 

"  Probably  he  loves  you  as  much  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  loves  me' too,  and  he  has  prom- 
ised to  come  to  America  to  see  us." 

"  I  am  from  America,  too." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  Welcome,  my  dear  country- 
man ;  come  with  me  into  the  garden,  and 
help  me  get  a  nosegay  to  take  away  with 
me  to-morrow." 

"  But  where  are  you  going  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Very  early  we  start  for  home." 

The  children  were  confronted,  as  it  were, 
by  a  riddle.  These  children  of  the  New 
World  met  each  other  to  welcome  the  ar- 
rival in  the  Old  World,  and  now  to  bid 
each  other  farewell. 

"  We  see  one  another  only  to  say  a  wel- 
come and  a  good-bye,"  said  Roland. 

"  Come  into  the  garden  with  me,"  replied 
Lilian. 


CHAPTER  III. 
AX  HOUR  IX  PARADISE. 

The  children  walked  about  the  garden 
and  gathered  flowers,  and  they  seemed  to 
be  in  fairy  land.  They  went  first  into  the 
vegetable  garden,  where  dwarf  pear-trees 
were  set  out  at  regular  intervals,  and  Lilian, 
thinking  that  she  must  explain  everything 
to  the  visitor,  in  a  matronly  manner,  said  :  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  there's  no  rose-bush,  no  little 
tree,  which  my  aunt  has  not  budded,  and 
she  hates  all  vermin.  Now  just  think  what 
aunt  reckons  as  vermin  !  But  you  musn't 
laugh  at  her  for  it." 

"What?    Tell  me." 

"She  considers  the  birds  vermin,  too. 
Oh,  you  laugh  exactly  like  my  brother  Her- 
mann. Laugh  once  more  !  Yes,  he  laughs 
exactly  so.    But  my  brother  has  been  in 


business  for  three  years.    Come,  we'll  look 
for  some  flowers  now." 

They  went  into  the  flower  garden  and 
gathered  many  different  kinds  of  flowers, 
but  Lilian  threw  a  large  bunch  of  them  into 
the  brook,  and  pleased  herself  with  thinking 
how  the  flowers  would  float  down  to  the 
Rhine,  and  from  the  Rhine  to  the  sea,  and 
who  knows  but  they  would  go  straight  to 
New  York,  even  before  she  got  there  her- 
self! 

"  I  shall  come  to  America,  too,  to  see 
you,"  Roland  all  at  once  exclaimed. 

"  Give  me  your  hand  that  you  will." 

For  the  first  time,  the  children  took  each 
other  by  the  hand. 

A  shot  was  heard  behind  them.  Roland 
trembled. 

"  Just  be  quiet.  Are  you  really  fright- 
ened ?  "  Lilian  said,  soothingly.'  "It's 
aunt ;  she's  only  frightening  away  the  spar-  x 
rows  ;  she  fires  every  time  she  comes  into 
the  orchard.  A  pistol  is  always  lying  upon 
the  table  yonder." 

Roland  now  saw  Frau  Weidmann  putting 
the  discharged  pistol  down  on  the  table. 

"  We'll  be  perfectly  quiet,  so  that  she 
won't  hear  us,"  he  said  to  Lilian. 

They  sat  down  on  the   margin  of  the 
brook,  and  Lilian  whispered :  — 

"  The  mignonettes  I'll  keep,  they  smell  so 
sweet,  even  after  they're  wilted.1' 

"Yes,"  Roland  rejoined,  "give  me  a 
mignonette  too,  and  as  often  as  we  smell 
them,  we  will  think  of  each  other.  The 
field-guard  Claus,  told  me  once  —  he's  a 
real  bee-father —  that  the  mignonette  yields 
the  most  honey." 

O    all  his  knowledge,  nothing  else  now 
occurred  to  him. 

"You  are  very  clever!"  exclaimed  the 
child.  "  Now  tell  me,  do  you  think,  too, 
that  the  bees  smell  the  flowers  as  we  do, 
and  that  the  flowers  put  on  such  pretty  col-  . 
ors  so  that  the  bees  and  the  insects  may 
come  to  them  and  be  friendly  with  them? 
Just  think  !  Herr  Knopf  says  "so.  Oh,  what 
a  tiny  little  nose  a  bee  must  have  !  And 
I've  often  seen  that  the  humble-bee  isn't 
very  smart ;  it  flies  up  to  a  flower  twice, 
three  times,  and  it  might  know  that  there 
was  no  honey  there.  The  humble-bee's  stu- 
pid, but  the  honey-bees,  they  are  the  prettiest 
creatures  in  the  world.  Don't  you  love  them 
more  than  anything  else  ?  " 

"  No,  I  love  horses  and  hounds  more." 

"  And  only  think,"  Lilian  went  on,  "that 
the  bees  never  hurt  me  nor  uncle,  but 
aunt  has  to  take  care.  Have  you  ever 
caught  a  swarm  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  If  you're  ever  a  great,  rich  gentleman, 


384 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


you  must  get  some  bees  too.  But  the  bees 
do  well  only  in  a  family  where  there's  peace  ; 
Herr  Knopf  told  me  so.  And  when  we 
start  to-morrow,  my  father's  going  to  take 
a  bee-hive  with  him.  Ah,  if  we  can  only 
take  it  sale  to  the  New  World;  'twould  be 
frightful  if  all  the  good  bees  had  to  die  on 
the  way.  But  'twill  be  very  nice  when  they 
wake  up  in  America,  and  fly  away,  and  see 
wholly  different  trees  there." 

"  Is  it  really  true  that  you're  going  away 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  father  has  said  so,  and  when 
he's  said  it,  there's  nothing  can  hinder ;  you 
may  be  just  as  sure  of  it  as  that  the  sun 
will  rise.  My  father,  uncle,  and  Herr 
Knopf  have  talked  about  you  a  great  deal." 

"  About  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they've  wondered  ever  so  much 
what  you're  going  to  do.  Are  you  really 
worth  so  many  hundred  millions  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Lilian,  all  the  money  in  the  whole 
world  is  mine." 

"  Ah,  what  do  you  say!  you  must  think 
I'm  a  goose ;  I'm  not  so  simple  as  all  that. 
But  what  do  you  mean  to  be  ?  " 

"  A  soldier." 

44  Oh,  that's  nice;  then  you'll  come  over 
to  us,  and  help  kill  all  the  people  dead  who 
keep  slaves.  My  father  and  uncle  say 
'twill  be  done  soon.  Ah,  if  'twere  only 
now  as  'twas  in  the  old  times,  then  we'd  go 
away  together  into  the  great  forest,  far  off 
into  the  world,  and  then  we'd  come  to  a 
castle  where  there  were  only  wee-bit,  tiny 
dwarfs,  and  there'd  be  one  hermit,  a  good 
man  with  a  snow-white  beard,  whom  all  the 
animals  in  the  wood  loved  —  and  Herr 
Knopf  might  be  just  such  a  hermit  —  yes 
he's  to  be  our  hermit,  and  he'll  be  named 
Emil  Martin.  Come,  we'll  call  him  after 
this  brother  Martin." 

Thus  the  children  amused  each  other, 
and  Roland  again  asked,  — 

"Why  must  you  go  away  so  soon  as 
to-morrow  ?  " 

"And  why  must  you  stay  here  any 
longer  ?  "  answered  Lilian. 

"  I  must  stay  with  my  parents." 

"  And  I  with  mine.  Ah,  you've  a 
beard  already,"  cried  the  child,  pulling  sud- 
denly the  down  on  his  lip. 

"  That  hurts  ;  you've  pulled  out  a  couple 
of  hairs,  and  I'm  proud  of  them." 

"  You're  proud  of  them  then  ?  " 

And  she  tenderly  stroked  his  face,  pro- 
nouncing at  the  same  time  a  so-called  heal- 
ing-spell, which  she  had  learned  of  Knopf 
for  the  healing  of  a  wound. 

"  Have  you  the  dog  still  ?  "  asked  Lilian. 

"Yes,  he  must  have  gone  with  Eric. 
Where  is  he,  I  wonder  ?  " 


He  whistled,  and  Griffin  came  up.  Lilian 
caressed  the  dog,  and  kissed  him,  and  said 
all  kinds  of  loving  words  to  him. 

"  I'll  give  the  dog  to  you,"  said  Ro- 
land. 

"  See,"  cried  the  child,  "  he's  looking  at 
you ;  he  knows  he's  to  be  handed  over  to 
another  master,  just  as  a  slave  is.  But, 
Roland,  I  can't  take  the  dog  with  me.  I 
mustn't  say  anything  to  father  about  it. 
Only  think  how  much  trouble  we  should 
have  before  we  reached  New  York;  you'd 
better  keep  him." 

Roland  had  been  lost  in  thought ;  now 
he  asked  abruptly,  — 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  any  slaves  ?  " 

"  No,  when  they  come  to  us  they  aren't 
slaves  any  longer.  But  I've  seen  many 
who've  been  slaves  —  one  is  a  friend  of 
lathers,  and  father  goes  through  the  streets 
with  him,  arm  in  arm." 

"  Come  here,  Griffin,"  she  said  breaking 
off,  "  here's  something  for  you." 

She  gave  the  dog  a  piece  of  sweet  biscuit 
she  had  in  her  pocket,  which  he  ate,  licking 
his  lips  as  he  stood  calmly  gazing  at  the 
distant  landscape. 

For  some  time  the  children  were  silent, 
and  then  Lilian  again  asked,  — 

"  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
the  ever  so  many  millions,  when  you're  a 
man  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  ask  me  that  ?  " 

"Oh,  uncle  and  Herr  Knopf  have  often 
talked  about  what  you  were  going  to  do 
with  them  —  and  do  you  know  what  they 
said  ?  " 

"No.  What  would  you  do,  if  you  had 
so  much  money  ?  " 

"I?  I'd  buy  ever  so  many  pretty  clothes, 
real  gold  and  silver  clothes,  and  then  — 
well  then  —  then  I'd  build  a  splendid  church, 
and  everybody  would  have  to  be  beautifully 
dressed,  and  when  they  came  home,  they'd 
have  nice  things  to  eat.  And  you'll  do  all 
this,  won't  you  ?  or  you'll  tell  me  what  you 
mean  to  do." 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  But  you  are  to  be  something  great. 
Ah,  to  be  rich,  pooh!  Uncle  says  that's 
nothing." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  million  ?  "  asked 
the  child  again.  "I'd  like  to  see  a  million  for 
once.  The  whole  room,  clear  up  to  the 
top,  would  be  full  of  rolls  of  gold  —  no,  I 
shouldn't  like  that.  Tell  me  now,  have 
you  a  little  sister  ?  " 

"  No,  she's  a  year  older  than  I." 

"  And  is  she  beautiful  too  ?  " 

Lilian  did  not  wait  for  the  answer;  she 
beckoned  to  Roland  to  keep  quiet,  for  just 
then  a  lady-bug  ran  over  her  hand.  She 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


385 


placed  the  little  creature  on  its  back,  say- 
ing, — 

"Look,  now  it's  kicking,  it  can't  help 
itself —  there,  now,  its  little  wings  are  under 
its  back,  and  with  them  it  has  got  up  again, 
all  by  itself.  Hi !  it's  off.  'Twill  have  a 
long  story  to  tell  when  it  gets  home.  Ah, 
it  will  say,  There  was  a  great  animal  that 
had  five  legs  on  its  hand — my  fingers  must 
appear  to  it  like  legs,  and  when  it  eats 
supper  to-night  it  eats  with  " 

"Tell  me,  aren't  you  hungry  too?  I'm 
hungry." 

"  What  are  you  doing  there?"  suddenly 
called  out  a  woman's  loud  voice.  "Come 
into  the  house." 

Lilian's  aunt  had  made  her  appearance 
behind  the  children,  and  they  had  to  go 
witl^her  to  the  house. 

Lilian  saw  Roland's  frightened  expression, 
and  with  the  idea  that  he  must  certainly  be 
thinking  of  the  wicked  woman  in  the  story, 
who  eats  the  children  up  in  the  wood,  she 
said  in  a  low  tone,  — 

"Aunt  won't  do  us  any  harm;  instead, 
we'll  get  something  very  nice  to-night, 
great  pancakes  and  leeks.  Don't  you  see 
a  leek  in  her  hand,  which  she  has  just  cut? 
That's  for  the  pancakes." 

Roland  and  Lilian  accompanied  Frau 
Weidmann  into  the  house. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
VOCATION  AND  FATHER-LAND. 

While  the  children  had  been  dreaming 
and  chattering  together  in  the  garden,  the 
men  had  gone  into  the  house.  They  stepped 
into  the  large  wainscoted  entrance-hall, 
where  a  great  many  withered  wreaths  were 
suspended.  Weidmann  pointed  out  to 
Eric  that  forty-two  of  these  belonged  to 
him,  for  that  was  the  number  of  harvests 
he  had  worked  in  here. 

The  single  wreath  hanging  by  itself  was 
the  fiftieth  one  of  his  father-in-law,  which 
had  been  placed  upon  his  grave.  Weid- 
mann nodded  as  Eric  said  : — 

"This  is  a  decoration  which  cannot  be 
purchased,  which  one  can  acquire  only  for 
himself." 

Eric  was  glad  to  point  this  out  to  Roland. 

They  entered  the  sitting-room  on  the 
ground-floor.  It  was  spacious  and  comfort- 
able, with  pleasant  seats  in  the  window- 
recesses,  and  chairs  and  tables  scattered 
about  here  and  there. 

"  We  live  on  the  ground-floor  in  the  sum- 
mer," said  Weidmann  to  Eric  ;  "every  thing 
can  be  overlooked  here  better.  After  the 
leaves  have  fallen,  we  remove  to  the  upper 
story  for  the  winter." 


The  great  sitting-room  opened  into  an- 
other apartment,  where  the  heavy  damask 
curtain  had  just  been  drawn  back.  The 
Banker,  whom  Eric  had  become  acquainted 
with  at  Carlsbad,  came  out  of  it,  holding  in 
his  hand  a  bundle  of  papers,  and  gave  him 
a  friendly  greeting,  expressing  his  pleasure 
in  meeting  again  here  the  man  who  was  as 
intimate  a  friend  of  Clodwig's  as  he  was 
himself. 

A  new  subject  was  at  once  introduced. 
The  Banker  said  that  he  had  looked  over 
the  papers  thoroughly ;  the  public  domain 
did  not  seem  to  be  valued  at  too  high  a 
figure,  and  Weidmann  must  understand 
how  it  was  purposed  to  divide  it ;  but  he 
believed  that  it  would  be  hardly  possible  to 
extend  to  this  new  undertaking  the  plan  of 
insurance  which  Weidmann  had  adopted 
for  his  laborers  ;  that  it  was  very  question- 
able whether  the  income,  for  years,  would 
be  such  that  the  life-insurance  premium 
could  be  saved. 

Eric  learned  that  Weidmann  paid  the 
life-insurance  premium  of  all  his  employees 
after  they  had  been  with  him  four  years. 

Weidmann  gave  a  statement,  in  general 
outline,  of  the  manner  in  which  the  so- 
called  social  question  struck  him  as  being 
the  same  as  among  the  ancient  Romans  ; 
the  point  of  consideration  was,  to  make  free 
and  independent  cultivators  of  their  own 
lands.  And  he  laid  particular  stress  upon 
the  remark  that  this  social  question,  how- 
ever, was  not  to  be  solved  as  if  it  were 
merely  a  problem  in  arithmetic  ;  that  there 
must  be  a  moral  and  social  enthusiasm,  and 
he  must  confess,  although  many  would  shrug 
their  shoulders  at  it,  that  he  himself  was  of 
opinion  that  the  humane  principle  of  Free- 
masonry, which  had  too  much  lost  its  real 
meaning,  was  to  look  for,  and  to  find  here, 
a  new  inspiration  and  application. 

It  was  soon  evident  that  the  Banker  was 
a  brother  of  the  order. 

Eric's  heart  swelled  as  he  felt  obliged  to 
say  to  himself,  while  his  thoughts  were  car- 
ried away  to  the  grand  movements  of  the 
world  : — 

"  Everywhere,  in  our  day,  there  is  an 
active  endeavor,  a  care  for  the  neighbor, 
for  those  in  adverse  circumstances.  This  is 
our  religion,  which  has  no  temples  and  no 
established  days  of  festive  celebration,  but 
which,  everywhere  and  at  all  times,  strug- 
gles for  the  good." 

He  entirely  forgot  where  he  came  from, 
and  why  he  came,  and  lived  wholly  in  the 
present. 

Weidmann  postponed,  however,  the  sub- 
ject to  another  time,  and  asked  what  Ro- 
land was  going  to  do.    But  before  Eric 


386 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OX  THE  RniNE. 


could  reply,  a  man  came  in  with  Dr.  Fritz, 
to  whom  Eric  gave  a  cordial  reception.  It 
was  Weidmann's  son-in-law,  an  infantry 
offieer  of  high  rank.  The  two  men  request- 
ed that  the  conversation  might  not  be  inter- 
rupted, and  Weidmann  repeated  his  ques- 
tion about  Roland. 

Eric  informed  them  that  his  pupil  wanted 
to  become  a  soldier ;  he  expressed  his  own 
opposition  to  the  plan,  and  his  desire  that 
Roland  would  devote  himself  to  science  or 
agriculture. 

Weidmann  answered,  smiling,  that  Eric 
was  a  little  too  hard  on  this  mode  of  life, 
from  having  been  a  soldier ;  that  he  him- 
self was  convinced  it  was  of  essential  ad- 
vantage to  a  man  to  have  had  a  soldier's 
training.  A  man  became  ready,  resolute 
and  self-reliant,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
was  one  member  of  a  large  body.  No- 
where can  one  be  taught  punctuality  better, 
or  learn  better  what  it  is  to  command,  and 
what  to  obey,  than  in  the  military  service. 
Roland  must  be  made  to  realize,  however, 
that  this  soldierly  life  was  only  transitional 
with  him,  nothing  that  was  to  occupy  and 
fill  out  his  whole  existence. 

"  Then  he  will  be  no  true  soldier,"  inter- 
posed Weidmanns  son-in-law.  "  Whoever 
undertakes  anything  which  he  does  not  con- 
sider as  an  active  employment,  requiring 
the  full  energies  of  his  life,  and  whoever  is 
continually  looking  to  some  future  vocation, 
does  not  plant  himself  firmly  in  the  present." 

"  Here  you  agree  with  my  old  teacher. 
Professor  Einsiedel,"  Eric  went  on.  "He 
used  to  say  that  the  worst  ruler  is  the  pro- 
visional one.  It  would  be,  therefore,  im- 
portant for  Roland  to  adopt  some  perma- 
nent calling,  and  not  one  merely  temporary. 
With  his  peculiar  characteristics,  it  is  very 
hard  for  another  to  determine  for  him ;  but 
you,  Herr  Weidmann,  you,  with  the  pow- 
erful impression  which  you  and  your  active 
usefulness  have  made  upon  Roland,  you 
would  be  exceedingly  well  adapted  to  give 
to  him  the  decisive  impulse  in  one  partic- 
ular direction  which  1  could  not  do,  be- 
cause I  have  not  seen  clearly  what  is  best. 

"Let  us  take  counsel  together,"  agreed 
Weidmann.  "  We  here  have  had  a  great 
deal  of  experience." 

"Do  you  think,"  Eric  broke  in.  "that 
a  better  result  would  come  from  a  consulta- 
tion of  many,  than  from  the  quiet  medita- 
tion of  a  single  person  ?  " 

"Aha!  doubt  in  the  efficacy  of  parlia- 
mentarianism,"  said  Weidmann  smiling.  "  I 
can  imagine  it  possible.  I  answer  your 
question  with  a  simple  yes.  What  the  de- 
liberation  of  many  settles  upon  is  suitable 
for  many,  and  a  person  rich  like  him  has  in 


himself  the  power  of  many  and  for  many. 

Let  us  consult  together." 

They  sat  down,  and  the  Banker  began,  — 

"I  believe  it  is  Jean  Paul  who  said, — 
If  you  come  into  a  new  dwelling-place,  and 
it  does  not  seem  homelike  to  you,  then  go 
to  work  and  you  will  begin  to  feel  at  home. 
I  should  like  to  extend  this  further.  One 
feels  at  home  in  the  world  only  through 
labor;  he  who  does  not  work  is  homeless." 

The  conversation  was  again  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  the  Russian  prince, 
Weidmann's  son,  and  Knopf.  The  subject 
was' again  stated. 

"  We  have  a  good  council  of  deliberation," 
said  Weidmann,  sitting  back  in  his  chair. 
"  You  have  all  seen  the  noble-looking 
youth,  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  son,  and  Gap- 
tain  Dournay  has  trained  him  so  that  now, 
we  might  say,  he  is  fitted  to  enter  upon 
whatever  calling  he  may  adopt.  *What 
now  shall  the  boy  do  ?  " 

"Allow  me  one  preliminary  question," 
interposed  Knopf.  "  Must  a  rich  man  pro- 
duce, accomplish  anything  himself?  Is  it 
not  his  task  to  further  the  production,  the 
doing  of  others,  whether  art,  science,  in- 
dustry, or  labor,  and  to  make  himself  so  far 
familiar  with  it  as  to  give  such  aid  ? " 

"You  wanted  to  answer  something." 
Weidmann  pointed  to  the  Banker,  whose 
features  were  very  expressive,  and  who 
seemed  to  have  a  remark  on  his  lips. 

"Not  exactly  answer,"  responded  the 
Banker.  "  I  wanted,  first  of  all,  to  distin- 
guish between  vocation  and  business. 
There  are  active  pursuits  which  are  only  a 
business,  and  again  there  are  positions 
which  are  only  a  vocation.  This  is  the 
chief  difficulty,  that  a  person  so  excessively 
rich  must  have  only  a  vocation ;  there  is  no 
necessity  of  his  pursuing  any  business. 
Rich  people's  children  degenerate,  because 
there  is  no  such  necessity." 

' '  What  do  you  understand  by  vocation  ?  " 
asked  Weidmann. 

"  I  can't  at  once  define  it." 

"  Then  allow  me  to  help  you,"  said  Eric. 
"  Vocation  is  a  natural  gift,  or  a  necessity, 
which  we  turn  into  a  law  that  acts  freely. 
The  brute  has  no  vocation,  because  he  fol- 
lows natural  instinct  alone." 

"Very  true,"  nodded  the  Banker  grate- 
fully. "  One  question  more,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing to  Eric.  "  Hasn't  your  pupil,  as  I  am 
sorry  to  say  most  rich  men's  sons  have,  the 
desire  to  be  a  cavalier,  a  young  nobleman  ?  " 

As  Eric  made  no  answer,  he  continued,  — 

"  Our  misfortune  is,  that  the  sons  of  the 
rich  are  satisfied  with  being  heirs,  and  do 
not  want  to  find  a  means  of  active  develop- 
ment for  themselves." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


387 


"As  we  have  heard  already,"  began 
Weidmann's  son-in-law,  "  the  young  mar* 
wishes  to  become  a  soldier,  and  I  believe 
that  he  ought  to  be  encouraged  in  that  pur- 
pose. I  hope  that  it  won't  be  attributed  to 
prejudice  in  favor  of  my  own  calling,  but  I 
must  repeat  our  father's  view,  that  the  mili- 
tary profession,  more  than  any  other,  gives  a 
certain  decision  of  character.  To  have  to 
stand  ready  every  day  with  bag  and  bag- 
gage, scrip  and  scrippage,  this  makes  one 
prompt  and  decided ;  this  standing  army 
becomes  a  fact,  as  it  were,  in  each  individ- 
ual soldier." 

"  Granted,"  rejoined  Weidmann.  "  But 
is  it  not  to  be  feared  that  a  man,  who  has 
been  a  soldier  for  the  best  years  of  his  life, 
will  be  able  to  take  up  with  great  difficulty 
any  other  employment  ?  He  always  regards 
himself  as  on  furlough ;  and  the  great  mis- 
fortune—  I  might  call  it  the  leading  ten- 
dency of  our  time  —  manifests  itself  espec- 
ially in  the  rich,  who  look  upon  themselves 
as  on  furlough,  always  on  vacation." 

"  The  best  thing  about  it  is,  Roland  will 
run  through  his  money,  and  then  it  is  scat- 
tered among  the  people,"  jokingly  observed 
Weidmann's  son,  showing  those  imperti- 
nently white  teeth  that  Tranken  objected  to 
so  strongly. 

"I  would  like  to  say  one  word,"  the 
Russian  remarked  to  Knopf,  who  cried,  — 

"  The  Prince  requests  to  have  the  lloor." 

Weidmann   bowed   to   him  pleasantly. 

"  I  think  that  we  can  furnish  an  example  in 
Russia.  Our  wealthy  men  are  obliged  to 
become  agriculturists,  whether  the  inheri- 
tance consists  in  money  or  goods.  Why 
should  not  the  young  man  be  simply  an  agri- 
culturist ?  " 

"Agriculture  has  five  branches,"  replied 
Weidmann,  "  and  they  ought  to  have  their 
roots  in  five  corresponding  inclinations. 
Agriculture  consists  of  physics,  chemistry, 
mineralogy,  botany,  and  zoology,  and  one  of 
these,  that  is,  the  inclination  to  one  of  these 
sciences,  and  the  activity  growing  out  of  it, 
must  have  its  foundation  in  the  natural  bent 
or  genius,  otherwise  there  is  no  happiness  in 
one's  calling.  And  do  you  know,"  he  turned 
toward  the  Prince,  smiling,  "  do  you  know 
what  is  the  first  requisite  for  an  agrieultur- 
ist?" 

"  Money." 

"No,  that's  the  second.  The  first  is  a 
sound  human  understanding.  There  are  far 
more  intellectual  men  than  there  are  men  of 
genuine  common  sense." 

The  Prince  nodded  to  Knopf,  and  he 
gave  a  merry  nod  in  return. 

Weidmann  opposed,  with  a  warmth  that 
was  very  different  from  his  usually  composed  I 


manner,  the  view  generally  entertained  of 
agriculture  as  a  sort  of  universal  refuge,  to 
which  every  one  could  have  recourse ;  and 
yet  the  conclusion  was  finally  arrived  at, 
that  it  would  be  the  most  suitable  thing  for 
Roland  to  devote  himself  to  agriculture,  in 
connection  with  other  branches  of  industry 
carried  out  on  a  large  scale. 

The  conversation  broke  up  into  groups. 
Knopf  said  to  Eric,  that  at  the  present  time 
there  was  no  longer  an  Olympus  where  the 
fate  of  human  beings  could  be  decided,  and 
Weidmann  added,  that  the  worst  thing  of 
all  was,  that  Roland  had  nothing  to  expect, 
nothing  to  wish  for  and  to  obtain,  and  for 
which  he  must  exert  his  energies,  happy 
when  he  succeeded  in  his  first  attempt,  and 
then  girding  himself  immediately  for  an- 
other ;  for  this  is  the  impelling  cause  of  all 
movement  and  progress,  that  what  is  at- 
tained becomes  the  seed  of  a  new  effort. 

"  You  were  right,"  he  closed,  finally  turn- 
ing to  Eric,  "we  cannot  provide  for 
another  in  advance,  least  of  all  here.  And 
no  one  can  be  trained  to  be  a  giver  of  hap- 
piness. There  must  be  awakened  within 
the  youth  a  desire  to  associate  himself 
with  his  fellow-men ;  he  must  not  merely 
want  to  confer  happiness,  but  to  create 
something.  Out  of  creative  activity  alone 
proceeds  happiness.  He  must  be  educated 
both  for  himself  and  for  others  ;  he  must 
refer  everything  to  others,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  himself." 

Dr.  Fritz  had  taken  no  part  in  the  dis- 
cussion ;  he  sat  meditatively  with  his  brows 
contracted. 

"  Why  have  you  had  nothing  to  say?" 
said  Weidmann  in  a  low  tone  to  him,  when 
the  conversation  had  become  general.  Dr. 
Fritz  replied  in  the  same  low  tone  :  — 

"  It  is  hard  enough  to  know  what  to  do 
with  such  an  enormous  inheritance  right- 
eously acquired ;  but  how  much  harder, 
with  one  to  which  guilt  adheres." 

Weidmann  made  a  significant  sign  to  his 
nephew,  and  laid  his  finger  upon  his  lips, 
as  if  begging  silence.  Eric  had  heard  noth- 
ing of  the  conversation  between  the  two, 
but  as  he  looked  at  them,  he  had  a  feeling, 
as  if  something  transpired  there  which  was 
calculated  to  excite  alarm.  He  had  an 
involuntary  dread,  for  which  he  could  not 
assign  any  reason. 

Frau  Weidmann  now  came. in,  and  in- 
vited them  to  the  table.  They  got  up  at 
once  and  proceeded  to  the  dining-room. 

Eric  sat  by  the  side  of  Knopf,  and  said 
to  him  :  — 

"  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you,  Herr 
Colleague,  which  you  may  take  until  to- 
morrow to  answer." 


I 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


388 

"What  is  it,  pray?1' 

"  What  would  you  do,  if  you  should  be- 
come the  possessor  suddenly  of  many  mil- 
lions.? " 

Knopf,  who  had  just  put  his  glass  up  to 
his  mouth,  began  to  cough  and  choke  so 
that  he  was  forced  to  leave  the  table.  He 
came  back  again  after  a  while,  but  he  ate 
and  drank  nothing  the  whole  evening. 

The  Banker,  who  read  a  great  many 
journals,  asked  Dr.  Fritz  if  the  horrible 
stories  one  reads  of  American  life  had  any 
foundation  in  truth. 

"  Most  certainly,"  answered  Dr.  Fritz  — 
Roland  looked  sharply  at  him —  "if  we  fix 
the  gaze  upon  some  individual  and  separate 
fact  in  the  development  of  life  in  the  New 
World,  we  shall  often  be  wounded  by  mon- 
strous appearances  of  deformity ;  but  a 
very  distinguished  statesman  once  gave  me 
a  striking  illustration,  of  which  I  am  glad 
to  make  a  wider  extension.  This  gentle- 
man said  to  me  :  —  'I  was  at  Munich,  and 
there  I  first  understood  aright  my  father- 
land. I  was  at  the  foundry  where  the 
gigantic  statue  of  Bavaria  was  cast,  and 
the  different  parts  of  the  figure  were  lying 
around,  here  an  arm,  a  knee,  a  hand,  there 
the  head  and  a  part  of  the  trunk,  all  horri- 
ble to  look  at  in  this  separate  condition. 
But  when  I  saw  the  whole  colossal  statue 
set  up  in  its  place,  and  in  all  its  beautiful 
harmony  of  proportions,  then  it  occurred 
to  me  that  America  must  be  looked  at  in 
this  way.  The  separate  parts  appear  mon- 
strous, but  if  one  regards  it  at  as  a  whole, 
it  is  of  an  unequalled  beauty  and  gran- 
deur." 

At  these  words,  Roland  looked  up  at 
Eric  with  a  bright,  triumphant  glance,  and 
smiled. 

They  rose  from  the  table.  Lilian  was 
soon  put  to  bed,  and  when  Dr.  Fritz  took 
leave  previous  to  retiring,  Roland  retained 
his  hand  firmly,  saying  :  — 

"  I  thank  you  for  having  so  beautifully 
extolled  my  fatherland.  I  shall  never  for- 
get it." 

'"'  Shall  you  not  consider  Germany  as 
your  fatherland  ?  " 

"No,"^was  Roland's  loud  and  decided 
answer. 

"  Stay  here.  I  have  something  yet  to 
say  to  you,"  said  Weidmann  in  a  low  tone 
to  Eric. 

Roland  walked  about  with  Knopf  in  the 
bright  starry  night,  and  Knopf  had  to  prom- 
ise him  that  he  would  wake  him  up  to  say 
good-bye  to  Dr.  Fritz  and  his  child.  Ro- 
land then  consented  to  go  to  bed,  but  was  ; 
long  in  falling  asleep,  for  the  events  of  the 
day,  the  noise  of  the  brook,  and  the  clat-  I 


tering  of  the  mill  kept  him  awake.  But  at 
last  weariness  and  youth  gained  the  vic- 
tory, and  he  slept  soundly. 

CHAPTER  V. 

NOCTURNAL   INFORMATION,    AND   A  FARE- 
WELL LOST    BY  SLEEP. 

Roland  slept ;  he  little  thought  that  over 
him  and  his  destiny  two  men  were  keeping 
watch  in  the  deepest  anxiety. 

Eric  had  followed  his  host  into  the  work- 
room, and    here  Weidmann    asked  him: 
"  Do  you  know  why  you  are  sent  here?  " 
"  Sent  here?" 
"Yes." 

"Herr  Sonnenkamp  wants  to  establish 
friendly  relations  with  you,  and  I  myself 

have  wished  for  some  time  " 

"  Good.  The  best  spy  is  often  the  one 
who  doesn't  know  that  he  has  to  be  a  spy, 
who  looks  on  innocently  and  reports  inno- 
cently." 

"  I  don't  understand." 
"  Take  my  word  for  it,  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp didn't  for  a  moment  think  of  coming 
to  our  house,  especially  as  he  does  not 
yet  know  when  Dr.  Fritz  leaves  ;  his  pre- 
tending to  you  that  he  was  called  away  was 
quite  harmless.  '  Send  a  messenger,  and  he 
will  send  you  word  with  his  regrets  that  he 
cannot  come  himself,  but  will  send  the  car- 
riage. Ah !  my  young  friend,  there  is  no 
pleasure  in  following  up  the  trail  of  the 
beast  of  prey  in  man.  But  first  of  all,  one 
question.  Do  you  know  how  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp comes  on  in  his  endeavors  to  get  a 
title?" 
"No." 

"Do  you  know  that  I  have  hit  upon 
means  to  be  relied  on  of  forming  an  opin- 
ion of  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  deserts  ?  " 

Eric  expressed  his  ignorance,  and  Weid- 
mann continued :  

"  I  have  told  you  that  the  groom  who 
blows  the  trumpet  was  once  a  convict.  I 
have  still  another  convict  that  I  keep  on  an 
out  of  the  way  part  of  the  estate,  for  he 
doesn't  do  well,  not  so  much  from  an  evil 
disposition,  as  from  a  spirit  of  braggadocio 
when  he  is  amongst  men.  You  see  then 
that  I  do  not  reject  men  of  criminal  antece- 
dents ;  for  pride  in  our  own  yirtue  is  very 
weak-kneed.  It  is,  at  the  best,  only  good 
luck  if  we,  by  teaching  and  example,  and 
with  the  means  of  subsistence  assured  to  us, 
do  not  burden  ourselves  with  many  an  ill 
deed  that  we  cannot  blot  out.  Of  course, 
a  long-continued,  closely-calculating  occu- 
jpation,  revolting  to  every  feeling  of  human- 
ity—  but  as  I  said,  I  will  put  no  obstacle 
I  in  Herr  Sonnenkamp's  way,  only  it  is  in- 


THE  COUNTEY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


389 


comprehensible  to  me  that  he  should  seek 
to  be  ennobled,  and  in  that  way  voluntarily* 
challenge  inquiry  into  his  antecedents.  If, 
as  my  friend  Wolfsgarten  says,  you  have 
great  influence  over  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  ad- 
vise him  to  give  this  thing  up." 

Eric  held  his  hand  before  his  eyes ;  his 
eye  was  burning,  he  strove  to  speak,  but 
could  not. 

Weidmann,  who  misapprehended  this 
emotion,  said  in  a  mild  tone :  — 

"  I  admire  your  power,  in  having  been 
able,  as  Herr  Knopf  informed  me,  and  as 
I  myself  see,  to  bring  an  atmosphere  of  no- 
ble feeling  into  this  family,  to  hold  your  pu- 
pil in  the  path  of  innocence,  and  to  natural- 
ize him  in  all  that  is  good.  If  this  boy 
should  one  day  learn  11 

"Learn  what?  what?  I  beg  of  you," 
Eric  was  at  last  able  to  utter. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  answered  Weid- 
mann, pressing  his  head  with  both  hands, 
"  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  know  noth- 
ing about  it  ?  " 

"I  know  nothing  more  than  this,  that 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  owned  large  plantations 
with  great  numbers  of  slaves,  that  he  grew 
tired  of  the  life,  and  therefore  came  back  to 
Germany." 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp  —  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp !  "  said  Weidmann,  "  a  pretty  name  ! 
and  it  is  well  for  him  that  his  mother  bore 
it.  So  you  have  never  heard  of  a  Herr 
Banfield?" 

"Nothing  very  definite;  but  the  head 
gardener  told  me  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
was  very  angry  on  his  return  from  the  Baths, 
when  he  found  that  name  registered  in  the 
visitors'  book.  But  tell  me,  what  is  there 
in  that  ?  " 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  or  rather,  not  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  but,  as  his  name  really  is,  Herr 
Banfield,  is  in  so  many  words  the  most  no- 
torious slave-dealer  ever  known  in  the  South- 
ern States  ;  nay,  more.  My  nephew,  Doctor 
Fritz,  could  tell  you  many  a  thing  he  has 
done ;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  defend  sla- 
very in  the  public  prints,  and  he  was  so 
shameless  as  to  set  himself  up  as  a  proof 
that  all  Germans  had  not  degenerated'  into 
sentimental  humanity,  but  that  he,  a  repre- 
sentative of  Germany,  supported  slavery, 
maintaining  it  to  be  right.  He  has  a  ring 
on  his  thumb ;  if  he  takes  the  ring  off,  you 
can  see  the  marks  of  the  teeth  of  a  slave 
whom  he  was  throttling,  and  who  bit  him  in 
that  thumb." 

A  cry  of  horror  was  wrung  from  Eric's 
heart ;  he  could  onlv  gasp  out  the  words  :  — 

"O  Roland!  O  Mother  !  O  Manna  !  " 

"  It  grieves  me  to  tell  you  this,  but  it  is 
best  that  you  should  learn  it  through  me. 


You  cannot  conceive  that  a  man  with  such 
antecedents  can  at  times  appear  so  well, 
and  engage  in  the  discussions  of  principles. 
Yes,  this  man  is  a  swamp  encircled  with 
flowers.  The  fellow  has  cost  me  many  days 
of  my  life,  for  I  cannot  understand  how  he 
can  live.  Slave-dealing  is  murder  in  cold 
blood,  the  annihilation  of  free  existence  for 
one's  own  gain  ;  the  murderer  from  passion, 
and  the  murderer  from  rapacity,  stalk  over 
the  corpses  of  their  victims  to  gratify  their 
desire  of  establishing  their  supposed  rights. 
The  world  is  to  them  a  field  of  battle  and  a 
conflict,  an  annihilation  of  their  foes,  to  find 
room  for  themselves.  But  a  slave-dealer  — 
a  slave  murderer  !  And  this  man  is  now  a 
fruit-grower,  a  most  excellent,  careful  fruit- 
grower, in  mockery  of  the  words :  '  By 
their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them.'  Oh  !  my 
head  was  fairly  crazed  with  this  man,  until  I 
brought  myself  to  the  point  of  being  able  to 
forget  him !  " 

Weidmann  spoke  on  uninterruptedly,  as 
if  he  did  not  wish  these  sad  thoughts  to 
settle  down  upon  him. 

Soon  Eric  raised  his  head  and  besought 
him :  — 

"  Tell  me  all." 

"  Yes,  you  shall  know  all, —  ah,  what  is 
all  ?  You  have  heard  of  the  fate  of  Captain 
Brown  at  Harper's  Ferry  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Was  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
there  too  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  ringleader." 

Eric  related  how  Roland  at  one  time  in 
his  fever  dreams  shouted,  "John  Brown  is 
banning  on  the  gallows  !  " 

The  more  he  spoke  of  Roland,  the  more 
feelingly  his  voice  trembled,  and  at  last  hot 
tears  burst  from  his  eyes.  He  apologized 
for  this  weakness  before  Weidmann,  who 
said :  — 

"  Your  tears  consecrate  you  in  my  eyes 
forever ;  you  shall  find  in  me  a  friend  whom 
you  may  call  upon  at  any  time  and  in  any 
situation  of  life.  Whatever  is  in  my  power 
is  yours,  your  deeds  shall  be  mine.  You 
are  not  weak,  you  are  strong,  you  must  be ; 
and  it  is  a  noble  vocation  for  you  to  be 
placed  as  you  are  at  the  side  of  such  a  youth, 
with  such  a  fatal  inheritance." 

Eric  stood  up  and  drew  a  long  deep 
breath ;  the  two  men  held  fast  each  other's 
hands,  and  laying  his  left  on  his  heart,  Eric 
said :  — 

"  I  hope  that  I  shall  show  myself  worthy 
of  your  appeal." 

"  I  knew  this,  and  it  is  better,  as  I  said, 
that  you  have  learned  the  thing  from  me. 
There's  no  doubt  about  the  matter,  depend 
upon  it." 

For  a  long  while  not  a  word  was  spoken. 


390 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON  THE  RHINE. 


Eric  had  called  out  Manna's  name  with  Ro- 
land's and  his  mother's.  Now,  for  the  first 
time,  in  the  deepest  sorrow,  it  broke  upon 
him  fully,  that  he  loved  Manna ;  and  with  a 
sense  of  satisfaction  the  thought  shot  through 
his  soul  that  he  had  not  yet  spoken  to  her 
a  word  of  love. 

Terrified  at  this  selfishness  he  started  up. 

How  could  he  think  of  himself,  and  not 
of  her  hard  fate  ?  He  grieved  for  her,  above 
all,  that  she  should  be  the  daughter  of  such 
a  man. 

How  will  she  bear  it  ?  And  did  she  know 
it  perhaps  already  ?  Was  this  the  cause  of 
her  secluded  life,  of  the  eagerness  to  sacri- 
fice herself  and  take  the  veil  ? 

"  Don't  lose  yourself  in  thoughts  and 
anxious  speculations,"  said  Weidmann  ad- 
monishingly. 

Eric  did  not  dare  to  speak  of  Manna  ;  he 
merely  asked  Weidmann  whether  he  thought 
he  ought  to  communicate  this  information  to 
his  mother ;  for  it  was  doubly  agonizing  to 
have  involved  his  mother  in  such  a  connec- 
tion. 

Weidmann  said  that  he  well  knew  what 
a  frightful  thing  it  must  be  to  eat  this  man's 
bread,  to  drink  his  wine,  to  receive  services 
at  his  hand.  But  he  impressed  upon  Eric 
the  necessity  of  sparing  his  mother  the  reci- 
tal as  long  as  possible,  since  he  needed  her 
sorely  as  a  stay  for  Frau  Ceres  and  Manna. 
Yes,  Weidmann  called  it  a  rare  piece  -of 
good  fortune  to  have  at  one's  side,  aiding 
and  supporting,  a  woman  so  noble,  and  so 
tried  in  the  battle  of  life. 

It  was  long  after  midnight  when  Eric  left 
his  host. 

He  went  to  his  room ;  he  saw  that  Ro- 
land was  asleep,  and  a  silent  vow  rose  to 
his  lips,  as  he  gazed  upon  the  handsome, 
sleeping  boy. 

Eric  wandered  restless  through  the  house 
and  through  the  woods ;  meteors  darted 
hither  and  thither  through  the  sky ;  in  the 
distance  glistened  the  waves  of  the  Rhine  ; 
a  dewy  atmosphere  lay  upon  the  whole 
earth ;  Eric  found  no  rest,  nay,  he  found 
hardly  a  moment's  meditation.  What  should 
he,  what  could  he  do  ? 

Morning  began  to  glimmer ;  he  returned 
to  the  courtyard. 

Here  everything  was  full  of  life. 

He  first  fell  in  with  Knopf,  who  said  to 
him :  — 

"  I  haven't  slept  a  wink  the  whole  night 
on  your  account.  Ah,  that  question  of 
yours  !  Theoretically  it  cannot  be  solved, 
since  all  the  real  relations  of  life  are  made 
up  not  of  whole  numbers,  but  of  fractions 
only,  and  can  only  be  expressed  in  fractions. 
So  the  total  also  cannot  be  expressed  in  one 


whole  number.  I  can't  make  out,  and  it 
turns  my  head  to  think  of  what  I  should  do 
if  I  were  possessed  of  many  millions.  To 
found  benevolent  institutions,  that  is  hardly 
enough;  the  whole  world  shouldn't  be  a 
vast  almshouse,  a  piously  endowed  estab- 
lishment. I  would  have  joy  and  beauty 
everywhere ;  men  should  be  not  only  fed 
and  clothed,  they  should  also  be  happy. 
In  the  first  place,  I  would  xfound  in  every 
town  a  good  salary  for  the  teacher  who 
leads  the  singing-club,  and  a  pint  of  wine 
for  every  member  on  Sunday  ;  and  I  would 
build  a  concert-hall  in  every  town,  with  lofty 
summer-saloons,  and  well-heated  rooms  in 
winter,  ornamented  with  beautiful  paintings  ; 
and  in  them  should  be  hung  up  the  prizes 
gained  by  the  club. 

"  1  would  also  erect  an  institute  for  poor 
children,  and  make  myself  director  of  it; 
and  then  I  would  found  a  refuge  for  deserv- 
ing tutors.  I  have  even  fixed  on  the  name  it 
should  go  by,  —  "  The  Home  for  Eventide." 
Oh,  that  will  be  magnificent ;  how  the  old 
teachers  will  wrangle  and  each  extol  his 
system  as  the  best !  I  have  also  decided  to 
lefl  the  principal  lie,  and  take  a  million  from 
it  to  go  travelling  with.  I  would  take  with 
me  a  dozen  or  more  companions,  honest, 
capable  men,  naturalists,  painters,  sculptors, 
merchants,  politicians,  teachers  —  in  a  word, 
capable  men  from  all  callings.  I  would 
have  them  equipped  with  everything  need- 
ful, and  we  would  stop  wherever  and  as 
long  as  we  chose.  In  this  way  I  would 
learn  what  are  the  best  social  arrangements 
in  the  world,  and  when  I  came  home  I'd 
establish  similar  ones.  I  do  not  expect  to 
lind  it  out  all  at  once.  Only  think  what 
a  fine  thing  such  a  journey  would  be,  with 
a  dozen  or  more  right  clever  men,  with  our 
own  ship  for  the  sea,  and  with  mules  for 
the  mountains.  In  a  word,  it  would  be 
splendid,  and  useful  at  the  same  time. 
And  when  Roland  conies  home  he  must  turn 
agriculturist;  it  is  altogether  the  best  life; 
that  is  to  say,  man  has  in  that  life  the  best 
basis  to  stand  upon  —  the  most  natural 
basis.  But,  as  I  said,  I  am  counting  my 
chickens  before  they  are  hatched." 

Eric  hardly  heard  what  Knopf  was  say- 
ing, and  for  the  first  time  woke  up  out  of 
his  dreams  when  Knopf  asked  him,  — 

"Where  is  Roland  ?  I  promised  to  wake 
him  in  time  for  the  departure  of  Doctor 
Fritz  and  his  child." 

"  Just  let  him  sleep." 

"  On  your  responsibility  ?  " 

"  On  my  responsibility." 

**  Very  well,"  rejoined  Knopf.  "  Indeed, 
I  had  rather  not  wake  him.  In  that  way 
Roland  will  have  to  suffer  a  pretty  little  bit 


i 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


of  romantic  pain.  I  cannot  tolerate  this 
sentimental  nonsense  between  children. 
Now  he  has  taken  his  leave,  or  rather  not 
taken  his  leave  in  the  night,  and  while  he 
was  sleeping  she  disappeared ;  that  is  a  bit 
of  romantic  pain.  This  taking  leave  !  In 
the  morning,  shivering  and  shaking  on  the 
steamer-landing,  or  at  the  railroad  station, 
you  take  leave ;  then  the  ship  or  the  train 
moves  off",  then  you  stand  there  like  one 
who  has  been  robbed,  and-  then  you  have 
got  to  go  back.  Ab,  it  is  so  absurd  !  I 
shiver  a  whole  day  after  a  farewell.  But 
now  if  Roland  wakes  up  and  the  child  has 
flown  away,  that  may  leave  a  sweet,  strong, 
ecstatic  remembrance  behind  in  the  soul; 
and  we  too,  you,  Doctor,  and  I,  are  both 
giants  in  this  children's  story." 

At  this  point  Herr  and  Frau  Weidmann 
came  upon  the  scene,  as  well  as  their  sons, 
the  Russian,  the  Banker,  and  all  the  inmates 
of  the  house.  All  shook  hands  once  more 
with  Doctor  Fritz  and  his  child,  and  Lilian 
cried,  — 

"Herr  Knopf,  give  my  compliments  to 
Roland,  the  sleeper." 

Away  rolled  the  carriage,  the  inmates  of 
the  house  retired  to  bed ;  all  but  Eric  arid 
Knopf,  who  still  roamed  about  in  the  morn- 
ing twilight ;  and  Knopf  was  especially 
happy  to  watch  so  closely  once  more  the 
universal  awakening  of  nature. 

He  said  that  one  always  neglected  it, 
unless  compelled  to  observe  it ;  and  that 
there  were  doubtless  many  poets  who  sang 
of  the  dewy  twilight  of  the  morn,  who 
were  at  the  same  time  frightfully  late  sleep- 
ers. 

Eric  listened  to  the  good  Knopf,  but 
could  not  conceive  how  there  could  be  a 
man  out  there  in  the  open  air  alive  to  such 
contemplation  ;  with  him  every  thought  and 
every  act,  the  very  idea  that  "there  was  still 
much  to  do  in  life,  seemed  like  a  shadowy 
dream. 

On  the  other  hand,  Knopf  thought  that 
Eric  was  all  attention,  and  expressed 
regret  that  the  child  had  gone  ;  he  still  had 
the  Russian  Prince  to  instruct,  indeed,  but 
the  child  had  made  the  whole  house  happy ; 
she  was  like  a  living,  speaking  rose  trans- 
planted from  the  New  World.  They  were 
evidently  expressions  which  were  to  serve 
as  ornaments  to  a  poem  already  begun  or 
in  contemplation. 

Eric  listened  to  it  all  patiently. 

At  last  he  asked  Knopf  if  Doctor  Fritz 
had  said  much  to  him  about  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

Knopf  confirmed  a  part  of  Weidmann's 
information ;  but  he  did  not  seem  to  know 
everything. 


391 

"  I  take  the  holy  morn  to  witness,"  ex- 
claimed Knopf,  "  you  are  a  man  to  be  hon- 
ored, Herr  Dournay.  If  I  had  known  at 
the  time  the  antecedents  of  Herr  Sonnen- 
"kamp,  I  should  not  have  felt  so  secure  when 
I  was  teaching  Roland.  I  should  always 
have  felt  as  if  there  was  a  loaded  pistol  at 
my  ear,  to  go  off  at  any  moment.  Yes, 
you  are  a  strong  man ;  this  is  >a  new  kind 
of  greatness,  for  I  know  what  it  means  to 
control  and  manage  Roland  as  you  do." 

Knopf  had  seized  hold  of  Eric's  hand, 
and  in  his  excessive  enthusiasm  he  kissed 
it. 

Eric  was  calm,  and  Knopf  had  a  beatific 
look ;  his  countenance  with  its  smiles  was 
like  the  stream,  on  whose  bosom  the  wind 
tosses  along  the  rippling  waves.  He  main- 
tained that  they  were  both  happy  in  being 
co-workers  in  the  solution  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult and  most  sublime  problem  of  the  cen- 
tury ;  for  Eric  had  Roland  to  instruct,  who 
would  be  obliged  to  have  relations  with 
slavery,  and  he  himself  had  the  Russian  for 
a  pupil,  whc«  had  now  the  emancipated  serfs 
to  manage. 

He  represented  that  the  prince  wanted  him 
to  go  home  with  him,  and  establish  a  school 
for  the  liberated  serfs ;  Doctor  Fritz,  on 
the  other  hand,  wanted  him  to  go  to  Amer- 
ica and  manage  a  school  for  the  children  of 
freed  negroes.  He  reproached  himself  with 
not  having  really  a  stronger  inclination  for 
the  negro  children,  for  as  he  wished  to  be 
honest,  he  must  confess  he  would  only  go 
to  America  for  the  sake  of  seeing  Lilian 
once  more,  and  observing  how  she  devel- 
oped, and  what  fortune  was  in  store  for 
her. 

As  Eric  was  returning  to  the  courtyard, 
he  saw  Weidmann  and  the  Banker  getting 
into  the  carriage ;  they  were  going  to  the 
capital  to  negotiate  for  the  domain.  Eric 
bade  good-bye  to  them,  and  expressed  his 
determination  to  return  at  once  to  Villa 
Eden.  As  he  named  Villa  Eden,  he  felt  a 
shiver  creep  over  him.  Weidmann  stepped 
out  of  the  carriage  once  more,  took  Eric 
aside,  impressed  upon  him  the  necessity  of 
being  circumspect,  and  from  the  carriage 
exclaimed,  — 

"  Dear  Dournay,  both  for  your  mother 
and  your  aunt,  my  house  is  always  yours." 

Eric  went  away  to  waken  Roland.  As 
he  woke  up,  he  cried,  — 

"  Is  it  morning  already?  Are  they  still 
here  ?  " 

"Who?" 

"Lilian  and  her  father." 
"No;  they  have  been  gone  this  long 
while." 

"  And  why  didn't  you  wake  me  up  ?  " 


392 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Because  you  needed  sleep.  In  one 
hour  we  are  going  home  again." 

Koland  turned  defiantly  away;  but  while 
Eric  was  talking  to  him  with  great  earnest- 
ness, he  turned  his  face  towards  him  at  last, 
and  on  his  long  eyelashes  stood  big  tears. 

"  What  tears  will  those  eyes  one  day 
shed  ?  "  said  Eric  to  himself. 

The  carriage  in  which  Doctor  Fritz  and 
his  child  had  left  came  back.  The  coach- 
man brought  still  another  greeting  from 
Lilian  to  Roland.  The  horses  were  not 
taken  out,  but  fed  in  harness,  and  soon 
Eric  and  Roland  were  journeying  home- 
wards. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  WORLD  A  MASQUERADE. 

If  romantic  affliction  manifests  itself  in  a 
pale  face,  a  feeling  of  loathing,  obstinacy, 
and  haired  of  one's  neighbor  and  of  every- 
thing, then  had  Roland  experienced  a  gen- 
uine romantic  affliction.  He  sat  near  Eric 
in  the  carriage,  and  shut  his  eyes  so  as  to  see 
nothing  but  what  was  going  on  in  his  own 
imagination ;  he  pressed  his  lips  hard  to- 
gether, pale  and  trembling,  determined  not 
to  say  a  word. 

Am  I  a  child  still,  he  asked  himself,  that 
can  be  ^knocked  about  hither  and  thither, 
that  must  obey  and  ask  for  no  reason  ?  Why 
didn't  Eric  give  a  reason  for  his  returning 
so  suddenly  ?  Why  did  Knopf,  with  a  tri- 
umphant smile,  tell  me  that  he  didn't  wake 
me  on  purpose  ?  Then  it  flashed  upon  him 
that  Knopf  had  taken  upon  himself  the  re- 
sponsibility that  Eric  had  assumed,  and  he 
might  have  thought  that  it  would  be  better 
lor  Roland  to  be  angry  with  an  absent  one, 
than  with  him  in  whose  hands  he  had  to  re- 
main. In  the  meanwhile  Roland  glanced 
over  towards  Eric,  to  see  whether  he  wasn't 
on  the  point  of  beginning  to  explain  every- 
thing to  him ;  but  Eric  was  silent ;  he  had 
also  shut  his  eyes. 

In  the  bright  day,  through  a  landscape 
full  of  life,  they  both  rode  on  wrapt  in 
their  own  reveries. 

Overcome  with  fatigue,  Eric  sat  as  if 
sunk  in  a  half  sleep,  in  which  the  rattle  of 
the  carriage  sounded  like  a  demoniacal  rum- 
ble. At  times,  when  they  were  descending, 
and  the  locked  wheels  squeaked  and  grated, 
he  would  look  up,  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
Rhine  in  the  distance,  then  shut  his  eyes, 
and  in  his  half  dream  pierce  through  the 
view  of  water  of  mountain  ;  and  it  seemed 
to  him,  as  if  everything  was  flooded  over, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  waves  stood  two 
men  on  rocks,  far  from,  and  still  beckon- 
ing to,  each  other.    On  one  stood  Clodwig, 


speaking  of  a  Roman  relic  which  he  held  in 
his  hand,  and  on  the  other  stood  Weidmann, 
talking  of  life  insurance,  and  between  whiles 
they  were  talking  about  Eric  and  Roland. 
And  just  as  he  woke  up  he  heard  quite  dis- 
tinctly, as  if  both  had  shouted  out  to  each 
other,  "Eric  and  Roland  have  reached 
home  safely  !  " 

"Here  there  are,"  they  had  shouted; 
"  here  they  are,"  shouted  a  voice  from  with- 
out. 

The  horses  stopped ;  Fraulein  Milch  was 
standing  at  the  garden  hedge ;  they  were  at 
the  Major's.  Eric  greeted  her,  and  taking 
it  for  granted  that  they  had  not  come  to  see 
her,  Fraulein  Milch  called  out :  — 

"  The  Major  drove  over  to  the  Villa  more 
than  an  hour  ago,  and  left  word  with  me, 
that  he  would  not  be  back  to  dinner." 

Eric  got  out ;  he  asked  Fraulein  Milch 
about  his  mother,  and  whether  she  knew 
what  was  going  on  at  the  villa.  He  learned 
that  there  must  be  something  unusual,  for 
everything  was  in  happy  confusion  ;  to-day, 
undoubtedly,  the  betrothal  of  Von  Pranken 
and  Manna  would  be  solemnized. 

.  Eric  allowed  Roland  to  go  home  alone ; 
he  had  to  shape  his  course  anew. 

"  The  whole  world  is  a  masquerade," 
said  Fraulein  Milch. 

Eric,  who  honored  the  good  old  lady  sin- 
cerely, did  not,  however,  feel  in  the  mood 
for  discussing  generalities  about  mankind ; 
and  when  Fräulein  Milch  tried  to  get  out 
of  him  what  he  had  learned  at  Mattenheim, 
he  approached  the  limit  of  impoliteness  in 
answer  to  her  repeated  inquiries.  He  did 
not  suspect  that  Fraulein  Milch,  who  knew 
everything  already,  wished  to  come  to  an 
explanation  with  him. 

He  had  desired  to  compose  himself  here 
as  in  a  sort  of  ante-room,  and  to  think  mat- 
ters over,  and  now  he  went  away  as  if  fright- 
ened. He  saw  the  handsome  villa  glisten- 
ing in  the  bright  sunshine,  the  blazing  panes 
o.f  the  glass  house  and  cupola ;  he  saw  the 
park,  he  saw  the  green  cottage  in  which  his 
mother  lived  —  and  all  this  was  built  and 
planted  from  the  profits  of  traffic  in  human 
beings. 

Does  Pranken  know  it  ?  He  must  know 
it,  and  then  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether 
he  will  extend  his  hand  to  the  daughter 
of  this  house.  Hatred  and  bitterness  that 
Manna  should  belong  to  this  house  pene- 
trated his  whole  being,  made  his  hair  sfand 
on  end,  and  clenched  his  fists ;  he  would 
dash  the  whole  lying  structure  to  pieces. 
But  Manna — how  would  she  take  it?  He 
stood  still,  upbraiding  himself  that  he  had 
ever  thought  himself  capable  of  cherishing 
one  noble  thought  within  his  soul.  He  stood 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


393 


still  and  stared  at  the  rocks  as  if  he  would 
have  dashed  them  down  into  the  valley,  crush- 
ing everything  beneath.  A  physical  pain,  a 
pang  through  his  heart,  almost  took  away  his 
breath.  Beaming  out  from  the  surrounding 
darkness  it  stood  before  him  —  he  loved 
Manna ;  and  without  being  aware  of  it,  he 
laughed  aloud. 

"  The  daughter  of  this  man  thy  wife,  the 
mother  of  thy  children  ?  The  world  is  a 
masquerade." 

The  words  of  Fraulein  Milch  came  back 
to  him,  and  he  added  to  them,  — 

"  And  I  am  not  called  to  tear  off  the 
mask  from -the  faces  of  the  maskers  ?  " 

Inwardly  composed  he  went  to  the  villa. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

A  MILLION  OF  POUNDS  IN  HAND,  AND  A 
UNIFORM  TO  BACK  IT. 

When  Roland  came  to  the  Villa,  he  was 
at  once  summoned  to  his  father ;  and  as  he 
approached  him,  Sonnenkamp  exclaimed  :  — 

"My  son!  my  son!  it  is  thou  indeed! 
everything  for  thee  ;  thou  art  forever  secure, 
and  elevated  forever.  My  beloved  son ! 
Everything  for  thee  !  " 

The  strong  man  now  raised  up  the  youth 
like  a  child,  and  exclaimed  :  —  "  Roland,  it 
is  accomplished  ;  forget  not  this  moment,  the 
crowning  moment  of  my  whole  life,  crowded 
as  it  hes  been  with  dangers  and  wanderings. 
My  son,  from  this  day  forth,  you  are  to  be 
called  Roland  von  Lichtenburg." 

Roland  stood  once  more  on  the  floor, 
and  trembled  as  he  cast  an  involuntary 
glance  into  the  large  mirror. 

"Yes,1'  laughed  the  father,  "look  at 
yourself;  so  does  the  young  baron  appear. 
Ah !  my  child,  you  will  know  after  a  while 
what  has  been  done  for  you.  But  let  it  re- 
main concealed  between  ourselves  how  we 
have  been  affected  by  this,  for  I  cannot 
show  the  world,  and  you  must  not,  that  I 
laid  so  much  stress  on  the  matter.  I  shall 
appear  indifferent ;  we  must  both  appear  so. 
Above  all,  do  not  let  Herr  Dournay  know 
anything  of  it.  You  came  quick  to-day; 
where  did  you  meet  my  messenger  ?  " 

Roland  said  that  he  knew  nothing  of  any 
messenger.  He  now  heard  that  his  father, 
in  the  night,  had  sent  a  messenger  to  Mat- 
tenheim,  with  word  to  come  back  at  once  ; 
and  also  that  the  son  of  the  Cabinetsrath, 
the  ensign,  had  been  on  a  visit  to  the  house 
with  many  companions,  who  were  again 
coming  at  noon  to  see  Roland. 

"  And  where  is  Herr  Dournay?  "  again 
asked  Sonnenkamp. 

Roland  replied  that  he  had  remained  be- 
hind with  Fraulein  Milch.  Sonnenkamp 


laughed,  and  impressed  his  son  with  the  ne- 
cessity of  continuing  his  customary  deport- 
ment towards  Eric ;  he  must  always  be 
grateful  to  him,  and  he  should  be  especially 
careful  to  be  right  modest. 

"  You  must  also  learn  to  treat  our  elevation 
of  rank  as  unimportant  before  the  world. 
Now  go  to  your  mother  —  no,  wait.  You 
must  still  have  something  more  that  will 
make  you  strong,  that  will  make  you  proud, 
that  will  make  you  feel  safe.  Stand  here, 
I  will  show  you  how  highly  I  esteem  you, 
how  I  look  upon  you  as  a  grown  man.11 

He  fumbled  hurriedly  in  his  pocket  final- 
ly he  brought  out  the  ring  of  keys,  went 
to  the  fire-proof  safe  built  in  the  wall,  rat- 
tled back  the  knobs  on  it,  and  at  once 
opened  both  the  folding-doors. 

"  See  here,"  said  he,  "all  this  will,  one 
day,  b&  yours,  yours  and  your  sister's. 
Come  here,  hold  out  your  hands  —  so."  He 
took  a  large  package  out  of  the  safe,  and 
said :  —  • 

"Attend  to  what  I  say ;  here  I  put  a 
million  pounds  sterling  —  so  —  hold  tight. 
Do  you  know  what  that  is,  a  million  pounds  ? 
more  than  six  millions  of  thalers  are  con- 
tained in  these  papers,  and,  beside  that,  I 
have  something  to  spare.  Does  your  head 
whirl?  it  must  not;  you  must  know  what 
you*possess,  what  will  make  you  master  of 
the  world,  superior  to  everything.  Now 
give  it  to  me.  See,  here  it  lies  in  this  place  ; 
close  by  it  are  the  other  papers  ;  underneath 
them  is  gold,  coined  gold ;  a  good  deal  of  it ; 
I  like  coined  gold;  uncoined,  too;  that  lies 
here.  I  may  die.  I  often  feel  that  a  ver- 
tigo might  suddenly  seize  me,  and  carry 
me  off".  Over  here,  see  here  —  here  lies  my 
will.  When  I  die,  you  are  of  age.  Now, 
my  full-grown  son,  you  are  a  man,  give  me 
your  hand.  How  does  the  hand  feel  that 
held  in  it  millions  of  your  own  ?  That  gives 
strength,  does  it  not  ?  Be  not  faint-hearted  ; 
I  trust  you.  you  and  I  alone  know  it.  Now 
go,  my  son,  be  proud  within  yourself  and 
modest  before  the  world ;  you  are  more, 
you  have  more,  than  all  the  nobility  of  this 
land,  more  perhaps  than  the  Prince  him- 
self. There,  my  child,  there  !  this  moment 
makes  me  happy — very  happy.  If  I  die, 
you  know  already  —  you  know  all  now. 
There,  go  now.  Come  and  let  me  kiss  you 
once.    Now  go." 

Roland  could  not  utter  a  word  ;  he  went, 
he  stood  outside  the  door,  he  stared  at  his 
hands, —  these  hands  had  held  millions  of  his 
own  ;  everything  that  he  had  ever  thought 
and  heard  of  the  joy  and  woe  of  riches,  every- 
thing was  in  utter  confusion  in  his  mind ; 
inwardly,  however,  he  experienced  a  sensa- 
tion of  joy,  of  proud  enthusiasm,  that  had 


394 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


almost  made  him  shout  aloud.  If  he  had 
only  been  permitted  to  tell  it  all  to  Eric  ! 
He  felt  as  if  he  could  not  keep  it  to  himself; 
but  then  he  was  not  allowed  to  communi- 
cate it  to  any  one.  His  father  had  put  his 
trust  in  him ;  he  dared  not  betray  the  trust. 

He  went  to  his  mother.  Frau  Ceres, 
handsomely  dressed,  was  walking  up  and 
down  in  the  great  hall ;  she  gave  Roland  a 
haughty  nod,  and  gazed  at  him  a  long  while 
without  saying  a  word  ;  at  length  she  said  : — 

"How  am  I  to.be  saluted  simply  with 
'Good-morning,  mamma?'  It  ought  to  be, 
'  Good-morning,  Frau  mamma,  good-morn- 
ing, Frau  Baroness.  You  are  very  gracious, 
Frau  Baroness  —  I  commend  myself  to  your 
grace,  Frau  Baroness — you  look  extreme- 
ly well,  Frau  Baroness.'    Ha,  ha,  ha  ! " 

Roland  felt  a  painful  shudder  thrill  through 
him ;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  mother  had 
suddenly  become  insane.  But  in  a  mo- 
ment she  was  standing  before  a  mirror,  and 
saying : — 

"  Your  father  is  right  —  quite  right ;  we 
have  all  been  born  to-day  for  the  first  time, 
we  have  come  into  the  world  anew,  and  we 
are  all  noble.  Now  come,  kiss  your  mother, 
your  gracious  mother." 

She  kissed  Roland  passionately,  and  then 
said,  that  if  she  could  only  have  all  the  ma- 
licious tale-bearers  there,  they  would  be 
smothered  with  envy  at  beholding  the  good 
fortune  that  had  befallen  her. 

"  But  where  is  Manna?  "  asked  Roland. 

"  She  is  silly,  she  has  been  spoiled  in  the 
convent,  and  will  not  hear  a  word  about 
anything ;  she  has  shut  herself  up  in  her 
room,  and  will  not  let  any  one  see  her.  Go 
try  if  she  will  not  speak  to  you,  and  get  her 
to  smile.  The  Professorin  has  always  told 
me  that  I  was  sensible  ;  yes,  now  I  will  be 
sensible;  I  will  show  that  I  am.  The  big 
Frau  von  Endlich,  and  the  Countess  Wolfs- 
garten,  proud  as  a  peacock  —  we  are  noble 
too,  now — will  burst  with  indignation. 
Go,  dear  child,  go  to  your  sister,  bring  her 
here  ;  we  will  rejoice  together,  and  dress  up 
finely,  and  to-morrow  you  shall  go  with 
your  father  and  Herr  von  Pranken  to  the 
capital.1' 

Roland  went  to  Manna's  room,  he  knocked 
and  called ;  she  answered  finally  that  she 
would  see  him  in  an  hour's  time,  but  now 
she  must  be  left  alone. 

As  Roland  was  going  to  his  own  room, 
Pranken  met  him  ;  he  embraced  him  warm- 
ly, called  him  brother,  and  accompanied  him 
with  congratulations  to  his  room.  Here 
lay  the  uniform,  which  had  been  ordered 
for  Roland.  Pranken  urged  him  to  put  it 
on  at  once  ;  but  Roland  did  not  want  to, 
before  he  had  passed  his  examination. 


"Pah!"  laughed  Pranken,  "examina- 
tion !  that  is  a  scare-crow  for  poor  devils  of 
commoners.  My  young  friend,  you  are  now 
a  Baron,  and  by  that  means  you  have  passed 
the  best  part  of  the  examination :  what  is 
now  to  come  is  only  form." 

It  required  no  great  persuasion  to  induce 
Roland  to  put  on  the  uniform.  Pranken 
helped  him.  The  uniform  became  him  ad- 
mirably ;  he  looked  both  lithe  and  strong ; 
he  had  broad  shoulders,  and  the  pliancy  of 
his  form  did  not  disguise  his  manly  strength 
of  muscle. 

"  Really,  I  had  rather  have  gone  into  the 
navy,"  said  he,  "  but  there  doesn't  happen 
to  be  any." 

Once  more,  accompanied  by  Pranken,  he 
went  to  Manna's  room,  and  cried  out,  that 
she  ought  to  see  him  in  his  uniform,  but 
Manna  returned  no  answer  whatever. 

Pranken  now  went  with  Roland  to  his 
father,  and  both  conducted  him  to  his  moth- 
er ;  she  was  ravished  at  his  appearance. 
Roland  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  him- 
self from  excitement  ;  he  went  into  the  park, 
he  saluted  the  trees ;  he  showed  his  uni- 
form to  the  sky  and  to  the  plants  ;  but  '  his 
salutations  met  with  no  response.  He 
showed  himself  to  the  servants,  and  they  all 
congratulated  him.  While  he  was  standing, 
his  left  hand  upon  his  sword,  near  the  por- 
ter, who  was  saluting  him  in  military  fash- 
ion like  a  veteran,  Eric  came  up.  He  did 
not  recognize  Roland  at  first,  and  seemed 
to  wake  up  only  when  his  pupil  began  to 
speak.  Roland's  cheek  was  glowing  with 
excitement,  and  he  exclaimed  in  a  loud 
voice : — 

"  Ah,  if  I  were  only  able  to  tell  you  all, 
Eric  !  I  feel  as  if  I  were  intoxicated,  and 
metamorphosed.  Tell  me,  am  I  awake  or 
dreaming?  Ah,  Eric,  I  can't  .say  anything 
more  now." 

Roland  went  with  Eric  to  his  room,  and 
questioned  him  eagerly  whether  he  had 
not  also  been  as  happy  the  first  time  he  had 
put  on  his  uniform. 

Eric  could  not  give  him  an  answer ;  he 
tried  to  remember  how  he  felt  the  first  time 
he  had  donned  his  uniform,  but  he  recol- 
lected much  better  how  he  felt  the  last  time 
he  had  doffed  it.  A  remembrance  did  come 
to  him,  however,  a  long  forgotten  remem- 
brance. The  Doctor  had  once  said  that 
Roland  never  took  any  pleasure  in  a  new 
suit,  but  now  he  was  in  raptures  over  the 
gay-colored  soldier's  coat ;  all  ideals  seemed 
to  have  disappeared,  or  at  least  to  have 
concentrated  in  this  coat.  Eric  gazed  at 
him  sadly ;  he  came  near  saying  that  the 
two  most  beautiful  moments  in  the  soldier's 
life  were,  when  he  put  on  the  uniform,  and 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


395 


when  he  took  it  off  forever.  But  he  could 
not  now  make  this  reply,  for  there  are 
things  which  every  one  must  experience  for 
himself,  and  cannot  learn  from  others  ;  and 
what  would  anything  amount  to  on  this 
present  occasion  ? 

Joseph  came  and  said  that  Eric  must  re- 
pair to  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 

With  the  ground  reeling  under  him,  with 
everything  swimming  before  his  eyes,  like 
one  in  a  dream,  Eric  went  across  the  court 
and  up  the  steps ;  he  stood  in  the  ante- 
chamber.   Now  is  the  decisive  moment. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
RESERVATIONS. 

Eric  entered ;  he  did  not  venture  to  look 
at  Sonnenkamp  ;  he  dreaded  every  word  he 
might  have  to  say  to  him  ;  for  every  thought 
that  Sonnenkamp  expressed  to  him,  every- 
thing which  his  thoughts  had  touched  on, 
seemed  to  him  polluted.  But  now  as  he 
fixed  his  gaze  upon  him,  Sonnenkainp 
seemed  to  be  transformed,  as  if  he  had  by 
some  charm  contracted  his  powerful  frame. 
He  looked  so  modest,  so  humble,  so  child- 
like, smiling  there  before  him.  He  in- 
formed Eric,  in  a  quiet  tone,  that  the  Prince 
had  seen  fit  in  his  graciousness  to  invest 
him  with  a  title  of  nobility,  and  was  soon  to 
deliver  him  the  patent  confirming  it  with 
his  own  hand. 

Eric  breathed  with  still  greater  difficulty, 
and  could  not  utter  a  word. 

"You  are  surprised?"  asked  Sonnen- 
kamp. "I  know  the  Jewish  banker  has 
been  refused,  —  and  I  even  think  —  the 
gentlemen  are  very  shrewd  —  I  even  think 
—  however,  it  doesn't  make  any  difference; 
every  one  works  his  own  way.  I  know  also 
that  a  certain  Doctor  Fritz  has  been  at  the 
philanthropist  Weidmann's,  and  that  he  has 
spoken  a  good  deal  of  slander  about  a  man 
whom  I  unfortunately  resemble  —  isn't  it 
so  ?  I  see  it  in  your  countenance.  I  hope, 
however,  that  you  will  not  —  no,  be  quite 
at  ease,  my  dear,  good  friend ;  rejoice  with 
me  and  for  our  Roland." 

Eric  looked  up  now  freely.  There  is  cer- 
tainly some  mistake  here,  lor  the  man  could 
not  be  so  composed,  if  he  had  anything  to 
dread. 

Sonnenkamp  continued : — 

"You  will  remain  our  friends,  you  and 
your  noble  mother." 

He  held  out  his  hand ;  now  again  Eric 
shuddered  all  over.  The  ring  on  his 
thumb  —  is  that  too  a  mystery,  a  deception  ? 
Sonnenkamp  could  not  but  feel  that  there 
was  something  wrong ;  he  suddenly  drew 
back  the  outstretched  hand,  as  if  a  wild 


beast  had  extended  its  claw  towards  it,  but 
said  with  great  composure  : — 

"I  know  you  are  an  oppqser  of  election 
to  the  nobility." 

"  No  ;  more  than  that,  I  wanted  to  say 
something,  "  interposed  Eric  ;  but  Sonnen- 
kamp interrupted  him  hastily. 

"  Excuse  me  if  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  any 
more." 

Suddenly  shifting  the  conversation,  he 
continued  in  an  earnest  tone,  saying  that 
Eric  had  now  only  the  finishing  stroke  to 
put  to  his  work,  by  guiding  and  fortifying 
Roland  into  a  true  appreciation  of  his  new 
position  and  his  new  name. 

"  It  would  be  a  fine  thing  if  you  should 
take  the  Professorship ;  I  would  then  let 
Roland,  until  we  ourselves  moved  into  town, 
and  perhaps  even  then,  occupy  the  same 
residence  with  you  ;  you  would  remain  his 
friend  and  instructor,  and  everything  would 
go  on  excellently." 

With  great  frankness,  he  added,  that  he 
desired,  since  he,  as  a  father,  was  not  in 
the  position  to  see  to  it  himself,  that  Ro- 
land should  be  wisely  and  discreetly  led  to 
a  personal  knowledge  of  that  thing  which 
men  call  vice ;  this  alone  would  preserve 
him  from  excess. 

Eric  remained  silent ;  he  had  come  with 
warnings,  and  full  of  anxiety ;  now  the 
whole  affair  was  ended,  now  nothing  re- 
mained to  be  done;  yes,  through  Sonnen- 
kamp's  own  acknowledgment  that  he  was 
mistaken  for  Herr  Ban  field,  every  objection 
seemed  to  be  put  at  rest.  For  the  sake  of 
saying  something,  Eric  asked  where  the 
Major  was.  With  great  satisfaction,  Son- 
nenkamp replied  that  the  building  of  the 
castle  had  fortunately  so  far  progressed, 
that  they  would  be  able  on  their  return  from 
the  capital  to  open  it ;  the  Major  had  just 
gone  to  the  castle  to  make  the  necessary 
arrangements. 

"  Have  you  seen  your  mother  yet?  " 

"No." 

"  She  has,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  sent  word 
to  me  that  she  is  a  little  unwell,  and  will 
not  be  able  to  partake  in  our  rejoicing." 

Eric  hastened  to  his  mother.  He  had 
never  yet  seen  her  ill ;  now  she  lay  ex- 
hausted on  the  sofa,  and  was  delighted  at 
his  returning  so  immediately  upon  the  re- 
ception of  her  letter.  Eric  knew  nothing 
of  any  letter,  and  heard  now,  also  for  the 
first  time,  that  Sonnenkamp  had  sent  a 
messenger,  to  whom  his  mother  had  also 
given  a  letter. 

His  mother,  who  was  feverish,  said  that 
she  felt  as  if  a  severe  sickness  was  threat- 
ening her ;  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  house 
in  which  she  was,  was  floating  on  the  waves 


396 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


nearer  and  nearer  to  the  sea ;  she  had  to 
foree  herself  to  keep  awake,  for  as  soon  as 
she  closed  her  eyes,  this  sensation  returned 
to  her  more  frightful  than  ever.  She  sat 
up  and  said  :  — 

"  Now  you  have  come  back,  everything 
will  be  well  once  more.  I  felt  timid  alone 
here  in  this  perverse  world.1' 

Eric  felt  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
his  mother  anything  of  what  he  had  learned 
at  Weidmannes. 

His  mother  complained  :  — 

"Ah,  I  wish  it  may  not  be  with  you  äs 
it  is  with  me  ;  the  older  I  become,  the  more 
mysterious  and  complicated  are  many 
things  to  me.  You  men  are  fortunate  ;  in- 
dividual things  do  not  vex  you  so  much, 
because  you  can  see  a  united  whole." 

As  the  mother  gazed  confusedly  about 
her  she  looked  upon  her  son,  and  her  eye 
sank ;  she  would  willingly  have  imparted 
her  trouble  to  him ;  but  why  burden  him 
when  he  could  do  no  good  ?  She  kept  it  to 
herself. 

Eric  told  her  of  the  interesting  life  he 
had  seen  at  Mattenheim,  and  how  fortunate 
he  had  been  in  gaining  there  a  fatherly 


friend.  In  the  way  in  which  he  described 
the  energetic  activity  of  the  family,  it 
seemed  as  if  he  were  bringing  a  fresh 
breeze  into  the  room ;  and  the  mother 
said :  — 

"Yes,  we  forget  in  our  troubles  that 
there  are  still  beautiful,  harmonious  exist- 
ences in  the  world  for  a  maiden  like  Manna." 
And  just  as  she  mentioned  her  name,  a 
messenger  from  Manna  came  with  the  re- 
quest, that  the  Professorin  would  come  to 
her. 

Eric  wanted  to  say  to  the  messenger  in 
reply,  that  his  mother  was  unwell,  and  to 
ask  Fräulein  Manna  therefore  to  have  the 
goodness  to  come  to  her ;  but  his  mother 
sat  erect,  and'said  :  — 

"  No,  she  requires  my  assistance  ;  I  must 
be  well,  and  I  am  well.  It  is  best  that  my 
duty  saves  me  from  yielding  to  this  weak- 
ness." 

She  got  up  quickly,  and  said  to  the  mes- 
senger :  — 

"  I  will  come." 

She  dressed  hurriedly,  and  went  with  her 
son  to  the  villa. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


397 


CHAPTER  IX. 
HERO   ROLAND'S  MOTTO. 

The  Professor's  wife  announced  herself 
at  Manna's  door ;  Manna  opened  it.  With 
a  bloodless  countenance,  she  stood  before 
the  Mother  and  languidly  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  have  wrestled  with  myself  all  alone," 
she  said  ;  "  I  cannot  find  the  outlet ;  I  must 
tell  you  all." 

And  now  Manna  related  how  she  had 
grown  up  in  most  reverent  respect  for  her 
father,  and  how  she  had  often  painfully  la- 
mented that  her  mother  was  so  harsh  and 
cold  to  him  ;  but  once  —  she  had  never 
learned  what  had  transpired  previously  — 
her  mother  had  said  in  the  presence  of  her 
father :  — 

"  '  Know  then  who  your  father  is,  who 
your  father  is.1  Don't  look  at  me,  I  beg  of 
you ;  I  beg  you,  let  me  speak  it  softly  in 
your  ear." 

She  whispered  the  words  softly  in  the  ear 
of  the  Professorin.  The  latter  sat  there 
and  held  her  hands  in  her  lap,  and  shut  her 
eyes  ;  not  a  sound  was  heard  in  the  room  : 
it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  world  was  dead, 
and  the  two  human  beings  that  sat  there  op- 
posite to  each  other,  dead  as  well.  Manna 
went  on  to  say  that  she  did  not  at  first 
understand  what  this  meant,  but  gradually 
it  had  come  to  her,  and  she  had  persuaded 
her  parents  to  let  her  go  to  the  convent. 
On  the  way  thither  the  thought  was  contin- 
ually present  to  her,  how,  in  old  times, 
Iphigenia  had  offered  herself  up  as  a  propi- 
tiatory sacrifice,  and  so  she  longed  to  oifer 
herself  up  a  willing  and  a  hopeful  victim,  to 
wash  away  all  the  guilt  of  those  who  were 
dear  to  her. 

"  I  felt  then  as  if  something  had  been  cleft 
within  me,  as  if  a  vein  had  burst  in  my 
heart.  I  looked  upon  myself  as  a  victim 
on  the  altar.  I  had  the  courage  then,  I 
wanted  to  act  decisively  before  that  courage 
deserted  me,  for  I  was  afraid  of  my  own 
cowardice,  and  for  that  reason  was  anxious 
to  bind  myself  at  once." 

Again,  after  a  longer  pause  —  the  Profes- 
sorin did  not  interrupt  with  a  single  word 
—  Manna  said  that  she  did  not  understand 
what  her  father  was  doing,  and  she,  she 
herself  must  be  made  noble,  and  become 
Pranken's  bride,  of  equal  rank  with  him. 
She  had  honored  and  esteemed  Pranken ; 
he  was  a  man  of  the  world,  but  of  a  pro- 
foundly generous  and  religious  character. 

Sobbing  bitterly,  she  threw  herself  upon 
the  mother's  neck,  and  exclaimed  :  — 

"  I  cannot !  I  cannot  be  his  wife.  Ah  ! 
I  am  too  weak.  You  have  told  me  that  I 
should  have  to  experience  trying  conflicts, 


but  I  had  never  thought,  never  dreamt  of 
such  a  thing  as  this.    No;  no,  indeed." 

"  What  more?  "  asked  the  Mother. 

Manna  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  then 
threw  herself  upon  the  Mother's  neck  and 
wept. 

The  Mother  entreated  her  to  let  her  know 
the  rest,  but  Manna  remained  silent ;  finally 
she  uttered  the  words  :  — 

"No,  I  shall  take  it  with  me  into  the 
grave  ;  it  is  mine  alone." 

The  Professorin  spoke  words  of  hope  and 
comfort  to  her,  and  asked  her  whether  she 
had  ever  mentioned  in  confession  what  she 
now  confessed  to  her.  Manna  said  no, 
and  then  threw  herself  upon  her  knees  be- 
fore the  Mother,  and  besought  her  to  tell 
no  one  what  she  had  related  of  her.  father. 
But  she  started  up  suddenly  as  if  bitten  by 
a  serpent,  when  the  Professorin  told  her 
that  she  had  known  it  all  a  long  while,  that 
it  had  been  a  heavy  burden  to  her.  but  that 
it  was  the  duty  of  the  innocent  not  to  with- 
draw themselves  from  one  who  seeks  to  ef- 
face a  wretched  past. 

A  strange  agitation  swept  over  Manna's 
countenance. 

« '  Who  else  knows  it  ?    Tell  me." 

"Why  should  I,  my  child P  Why  do 
you  so  torment  your  soul,  and  make  it 
wander  from  house  to  house,  from  man  to 
man,  crushed,  begging,  and  imploring  for- 
giveness ?  " 

"My  prayer,  my  sacrifice  is  rejected;  I 
am  cast  out,  we  are  all  cast  out.  No,  I  am 
free ;  the  holy  ones  in  heaven  have  not 
been  willing  to  accept  my  sacrifice.  It 
shall  live  within  my  own  bosom  only, 
within  myself,  within  my  crushed  and  shat- 
tered heart.    I  am  free  —  free." 

"  Your  laugh  makes  me  feel  uneasy," 
said  the  Professorin,  who  was  observing 
closely  the  play  of  Manna's  features. 
Manna  moaned  that  her  sorrow  was  seven- 
fold. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  have  spoken 
with  my  brother  only  once  about  slavery, 
and  then  I  felt  as  if  something  was  whirling 
around  me,  when  he  said,  Beings  who  are 
admitted  to  religious  life  are  our  equals. 
He  is  right ;  whoever  enters  the  sanctuary 
of  the  knowledge  of  God  is^a  free  child  of 
God ;  and  I  shuddered  when  I  thought  for 
the  first  time  how  it  could  be  possible  for  a 
man  to  be  praying  in  church,  and  have  near 
by,  separated  from  him  only  by  a  railing, 
men  who  were  slaves.  Is  not  his  every 
word  of  prayer,  is  not  his  offering,  a  lie? 
It  was  a  frightful  pathway  upon  which  I  had 
entered,  and  all  the  powers  of  evil  were 
pushing  me  on  further  and  further.  How 
is  it  then  ?  how  can  a  priest  receive  the 


398 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


child  of  a  man,  how  could  he  receive  us 
into  the  church,  while  our  lather  still  " 

As  if  a  weight  lay  on  her  heart,  Manna 
placed  her  hand  there,  and  seemed  unable 
to  go  on. 

The  Professorin  consoled  her. 

"My  child,"  she  said,  "do  not  lay  the 
blame  on  Religion ;  cast  no  stone  at  those 
who  cannot  accomplish  everything,  who  can- 
not equalize  all  the  inequalities  that  have 
come  into  the  world  from  sin.  The  temple 
is  great,  pure,  and  sublime,  even  though 
cares,  sloth,  and  base  submission  have  found 
hiding-places  in  it." 

From  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  the  Profes- 
sorin sought  to  keep  Manna  from  losing  her 
hold  upon  religion ;  she  spoke  with  enthu- 
siasm of  those  who  devote  their  whole  exis- 
tence to  the  Most  High,  who  restlessly 
work  and  strive,  without  reward,  to  fashion 
the  earth  into  a  dwelling-place  of  love  and 
virtue. 

Manna  looked  up  astonished  at  the  woman 
who  thus,  counselled  her;  her  lips  parted, 
but  she  could  not  utter  the  words  that  lay 
upon  her  tongue  ;  she  wanted  to  ask.  "  But 
are  you  not  a  Huguenot  ?  "  But  she  kept 
back  the  words,  for  it  seemed  to  her  at  this 
moment  as  if  every  difference  in  form  of  re- 
ligious belief  had  been  blotted  out ;  here 
was  indeed  nothing  but  a  heart  simple  in  its 
purpose,  gentle,  patient,  suffering,  and  de- 
voted to  good.  Now  she  felt  that  she  had 
fully  and  entirely  devoted  herself  to  the 
noble  woman ;  she  Hung  herself  into  her 
arms  ;  with  tears  in  her  eyes  she  kissed  the 
Mother's  cheeks,  forehead,  and  hands,  and 
asked  her  to  lay  her  hands  upon  her  head, 
and  save  her  from  dying  of  grief. 

Silent  and  locked  in  each  other's  arms 
sat  the  two  women,  when  a  knock  was 
heard  at  the  door. 

Sonnenkamp  called  out  that  he  must 
speak  with  his  daughter. 

"  You  must  speak  to  him,"  said  the  Pro- 
fessorin. 

Manna  rose,  and  pushed  back  the  bolts 
of  the  door. 

Sonnenkamp  entered. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  well  again,"  said  he 
in  a  clear  voice  to  the  Professor's  wife. 

He  did  not  dream  with  what  eyes  the  Pro- 
fessorin and  his  child  regarded  him. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  continued,  making 
a  gesture  which  was  intended  to  signify 
that  he  desired  to  be  alone  with  Manna. 

•Manna  perceived  it,  and  she  begged  — 
she  could  not  express  her  agony,  but  she 
begged  earnestly  —  that  her  father  would 
permit  the  Professorin  to  be  present  at  the 
conversation ;  she  had  no  secrets  from  the 
noble  woman. 


Sonnenkamp  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Was  it  possible?  No,  it  could  not  be, 
his  own  child  could  not  have  betrayed  him. 

He  now  said  plainly  that  he  would  rather 
speak  with  Manna  alone. 

The  Professorin  rose  to  go,  and  Sonnen- 
kamp  begged  her  in  a  kindly  tone  to  keep 
his  wife  company  during  his  absence,  and 
give  her  all  the  instruction  and  advice  nec- 
essary to  enable  her  to  enter  upon  her  new 
sphere  of  life  with  becoming  repose  and 
dignity. 

The  Professorin  bowed  and  left  them. 

Manna  had  to  sit  down ;  she  felt  as  if  her 
limbs  would  never  again  support  her;  Son- 
nenkamp said  to  her  that  she  had  doubtless 
long  ago  forgotten  the  bitter  epithet  that 
her  mother  had  applied  to  him  ;  she  might 
now  go  to  her  mother,  who  would  assure 
her,  that  she  had  only  made  use  of  the 
words  in  auger. 

Manna  nodded,  without  saying  a  word; 
and  then  Sonnenkamp  spoke  of  her  marriage 
with  Pranken,  in  regard  to  which  he  took  a 
pride  in  feeling  that  he  had  never  laid  any 
constraint  upon  his  child.  Manna  implored 
him  not  to  press  the  matter  upon  her  then. 

"  Very  well,  you  need  not  make  up  your 
mind  till  our  return,  but  promise  me  to  be 
friendly  to  him." 

Manna  could  promise  this,  and  Sonnen- 
kamp smiled  inwardly  at  the  thought  of  his 
keeping  Pranken  in  suspense  until  every- 
thing was  finally  arranged ;  if  any  insur- 
mountable difficulty  came  up  then,  it  could 
not  change  what  would  be  already  settled. 

"You  are' now  a  Freifraulein,"  said  he 
impressively  and  smiling  to  his  child,  "  you 
shall  be  free  in  everything ;  only,  to-day, 
let  everything  remain  still  in  suspense. 
I  cannot  be  dishonorable."  He  really  meant, 
that  he  did  not  so  much  mind  deceiving 
Pranken,  but  he  added  that  it  would 
be  much  more  proper  to  consent  or  to 
refuse  when  they  had  been  for  a  short  time, 
in  the  full  possession  of  their  new  rank. 
And  with  that,  he  took  leave  of  his  child 
with  friendly  words. 

At  noon  there  was  great  rejoicing  at  the 
villa,  for  the  Ensign  with  a  number  of  his 
comrades  had  arrived ;  they  rode  out  with 
Roland,  who  was  treated  as  one  of  them- 
selves. 

In  accordance  with  Pranken's  wish,  they 
started  that  evening  for  the  capital. 

When  Roland  took  leave  of  Eric's  mother, 
she  gave  him  a  paper  on  which  was  writ- 
ten, — 

On  the  rim  of  the  Hero  Roland's  helmet 
was  once  and  is  again  inscribed,  in  golden 
letters,  —  "  The  weapons  of  the  whole  world 
must  leave  me  still  unstained." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE.  399 


CHAPTER  X. 
DOWN  BELOW. 

At  the  servants1  table  in  the  basement 
there  was  a  big  gap  ;  the  seat  at  the  head, 
which  belonged  to  Bertram,  was  not  occu- 
pied by  any  one ;  Joseph  and  Lootz  were 
also  wanting,  for  they  had  gone  with  the 
old  and  the  young  master  to  the  capital.  The 
men  and  women  at  the  table  were  whisper- 
ing in  a  low  tone  ;  at  last  the  head  gardener 
said  that  the  affair  was  no  longer  a  secret ; 
he  maintained  that,  at  the  time  of  the 
Prince's  visit,  he  had  perceived  the  thing 
clearly.  With  a  look  of  modest  condescen- 
sion, that  plainly  signified  his  regret  at  be- 
ing obliged  to  exhibit  his  shrewdness  before 
these  people,  he  let  out  his  words  as  if  such 
folks  could  not  appreciate  what  he  had  to 
say;  Joseph  alone,  if  he  had  been  there, 
could  have  bestowed  upon  him  suitable 
praise.  The  remaining  servants,  however, 
had  an  ill  will  against  the  self-asserting  and 
pretentious  head  gardener.  No  one  an- 
swered him.  The  big  cook,  who  sat  down 
to  table  very  seldom,  for  she  maintained 
that  she  ate  hardly  anything  at  all,  now 
ventured  to  take  Bertram's  place,  so  that 
she  could  get  up  at  any  moment.  She  said 
that  she  had  served  with  the  nobility  her 
whole  life,  and  now  it  was  going  to  be  so 
again.  Now  the  thing  was  out ;  and  all 
felt  as  if  a  load  had  been  taken  off  their 
hearts,  since  they  were  at  liberty  to  speak 
of  the  matter.  The  second  coachman 
turned  up  the  skirts  of  his  long  waistcoat 
a  little,  and  contemplated  them  with  a 
searching  look. 

"  Now  then,  buttons  with  coats-of-arms 
are  coming,*'  he  said  at  last;  "  and  our  car- 
riage will  be  new  varnished,  and  a  crest 
will  be  put  on  the  coach-door ;  no  more  of 
the  bare,  solitary  '  S1.  Let  Herr  von  End- 
lien's  coachman  say  again  that  the  S  looks 
like  an  interrogation  point,  for  no  one  real- 
ly knows  who  Herr  Sonnenkamp  is." 

One  of  the  grooms  was  glad  that  on  the 
horse-blankets  a  five-pointed  coronet  would 
stare  everybody  in  the  face. 

The  laundress  complained  of  the  great 
trouble  it  would  be  to  mark  all  the  linen 
anew,  and  the  maid  who  took  care  of  the 
silver  was  glad  that  she  was  going  to  have 
new  spoons  and  forks,  for  everything  would 
have  to  be  melted  over  again  and  engraved 
anew. 

"  And  the  collars  of  the  hounds  will  be 
renewed,*1  exclaimed  a  hoarse  voice. 

Everybody  laughed  at  the  boy,  who  had 
charge  of  the  dogs,  who  was  grinning  slyly 
at  the  idea  of  his  having  said  something 
funny. 


The  old  kitchen  maid,  who  persisted  in. 
sitting  on  her  stool  and  holding  her  plate  in 
her  lap,  called  over  to  the  second  cook : — 

"We  shall  soon  have  a  Frau  Lootz. 
The  master  will  now  consent  to  the  mar- 
riage.11 

"Has  he  given  you  his  consent?  11 

"  God  be  praised,  I  don't  need  it  any 
more.  But  now  he  will  remain  here  for- 
ever, and  never  go  away  any  more.  .  Now 
you  can  all  marry.1' 

The  second  gardener,  the  so-called  Squir- 
rel, declared  with  unction  : — 

'*  I  should  not  have  said  a  word,  but  if  I 
were  such  a  rich  man  I  would  never  have 
had  myself  ennobled ;  no,  I  had  rather  be 
the  richest  commoner  all  up  and  down  the 
Rhine,  than  the  newest  noble.  I  wouldn't 
flatter  the  nobility  so  much.  If  one  has 
money,  he  is  noble  enough.11 

Everybody  sneered  at  the  forward  fellow, 
and  the  head  gardener  looked  at  him  with  a 
patronizing  air,  nodding,  his  features  say- 
ing at  the  same  time,  "  I  would  never  have 
given  the  simpleton  credit  for  such  an  idea.11 

They  now  began  to  discuss  what  sort  of 
livery  the  master  would  adopt,  and  whether 
he  would  have  a  "  von  "  before  his  old  name, 
or  whether  he  would  take  an  entirely  new 
name.  Finally  the  conversation  turned  upon 
Prankeifs  marriage.  The  fat  cook  reminded 
them  that  when  Eric  first  came  to  the  house, 
the  old  kitchen  maid  had  prophesied  that 
Eric  would  be  the  son  of  the  house ;  now 
the  reputation  she  had  as  a  prophetess  was 
gone,  for  the  marriage  was  a  fixed  thing, 
and  they  were  only  delaying  the  announce- 
ment of  it  till  the  Fräulein  was  ennobled. 
Old  Ursel  made  a  wry  face,  looked  about 
her  and  winked,  pressed  her  apron  against 
her  mouth,  and  nodded  triumphantly;  at 
length  she  began  to  make  her  explanation  ;-p 

"  I  don't  believe  yet,  that  she  will  marry 
the  light,  twisted  moustache.  Remember 
what  I  say.11 

The  laundress  told  the  fat  cook  in  con- 
fidence, that  Joseph,  the  valet  —  she  had 
observed  it  the  whole  winter  through — was 
making  love  to  the  daughter  of  the  landlord 
of  the  Victoria. 

The  conference  in  the  basement  lasted  a 
long  while ;  it  was  not  broken  up  until  a 
voice  from  overhead  fell  upon  their  ear 
with  the  message,  that  the  horses  would 
have  to  be  harnessed  again,  night  as  it  was, 
for- the  gracious  Fran  wished  to  drive  out. 

Where?    No  one  knew. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  FIRST  NIGHT  OF  A  BARONESS. 

"  Yes,  it's  all  very  nice  for  him,  he  goes 


400 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


off  on  his  pleasure,  and  leaves  me  here, 
alone  !    What  am  I  to  do  now  ?  " 

Thus  Frau  Ceres  was  complaining  to 
Fräulein  Perini,  when  Sonnenkainp,  Pran- 
ken, and  Roland  were  gone.  With  the  hur- 
ry and  restlessness  of  lever  she  was  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  room,  every  now  and 
then  asking  whether  there  was  nothing  to 
be  done,  and  begging  Fraulein  Perini  to ! 
tell  her  what  she  ought  to  do.  The  latter  j 
urged  her  to  be  composed,  and  asked  her 
to  sit  down  by  her  side,  and  fill  out  the 
ground  at  the  other  end  of  her  embroidery. 

"  Yes,1'  exclaimed  Frau  Ceres  suddenly, 
"  now  I  have  it.  1*11  do  something  that  will 
please  him  too  ;  Til  embroider  a  sola-cush- 
ion with  our  coat-of-arms.  Besides,  I  have 
seen  hassocks  in  the  church  with  coats-of- 
arms  embroidered  on  them ;  well  have 
those  too.'1' 

Friiulein  Perini  nodded. 

"  And  something  else  yet !  "  said  she. 

"Really?  Do  you  know  of  something 
else  ?  "  exclaimed  Frau  Ceres. 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  something  well  befitting 
your  pious  mind.  You  have  already  thought 
of  it,  only  you  have  forgotten  about  it." 

"  What  ?  what  have  1  forgotten  ?  " 

"You  intended,  when  the  title  was  ob- 
tained, to  embroider  an  altar-cloth  at  once.'1 

"  Yes,  so  we  will.  Did  I  ever  say  so  ? 
Ah !  I  forget  everything.  Ah,  dear  ma- 
dame,  stay  with  me  always,  advise  me  in 
everything.  Have  you  a  large  frame  ?  Let 
us  begin  at  once." 

Fräulein  Perini  had  everything  ready, 
silk,  worsted,  gold-thread  and  silver-thread, 
frame  and  patterns.  Frau  Ceres  actually 
made  a  few  stitches,  but  then  stopped  and 
said  :  — 

"  I  am  trembling  to-day  ;  but  I  have  com- 
menced the  altar-cloth,  and  now  we  will 
work  on  at  it.  You  will  help  me,  will  you 
not  ?  " 

Friiulein  Perini  assented ;  she  knew  that 
she  would  have  to  do  the  whole  herself,  but 
Frau  Ceres  had  now  become  somewhat 
calmer. 

"Will  you  not  send  for  the  Priest,  or 
hadn't  we  better  go  and  visit  him  our- 
selves ?  " 

"  As  you  see  fit." 

"No,  we  had  better  be  alone.  Where 
is  Manna,  I  wonder  ?  She  ought  to  come, 
she  ought  to  be  with  her  mother." 

She  rang  and  sent  lor  Manna ;  but  're- 
ceived lor  answer,  that  she  had  just  gone 
to  rest ;  she  begged  her  mother  to  excuse 
her,  she  was  very  tired. 

"But  where  is  the  Professorin  ?  Oughtn't 
she  to  come  and  congratulate  me  ?  " 

"She  was  with  Friiulein  Manna,  and 


went  home  again,"  answered  Fraulein  Pe- 
rini. 

"  She  was  in  the  house,  and  didn't  come 
to  see  me?  "  said  Frau  Ceres,  in  an  angry 
tone;  "  she  shall  come  at  once  —  this  very 
moment.  Send  for  her.  I  am  the  Mother, 
to  me  is  honor  first  due,  then  to  the  daugh- 
ter. Send  lor  her,  she  must  come  at  once." 

Fraulein  Perini  had  to  gratify  her,  but 
with  great  caution,  she  impressed  upon 
Frau  Ceres  the  necessity  of  being  quite  com- 
posed and  dignified  in  her  manner  toward 
the  learned  court-lady,  who  must  not  sup- 
pose that  people  would  have  to  learn  from 
her,  at  the  outset,  how  to  comport  them- 
selves in  elevated  positions. 

"  You  should  be  rather'  quiet  in  your 
manner,  Frau  Baroness." 

"Frau  Baroness!  Am  I  to  expect  that 
the  Professorin  will  address  me  so  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  she  is  perfectly  well  bred." 

Frau  Ceres  began  once  more  to  walk  rest- 
lessly up  and  down  the  room.  Every  once  in  a 
while,  she  would  stand  still  before  the  large 
mirror,  and  make  a  courtesy  before  some  im- 
aginary personage.  The  courtesy  was  very 
successful ;  she  would  lay  her  left  hand  upon 
her  heart,  her  right  hanging  down  naturally, 
and  bend  very  low.  On  both  sides  of  the 
mirror  four  branched  candlesticks  stood 
lighted,  and  once  in  a  while  Frau  Ceres 
would  put  her  hand  to  her  brow. 

"  He  has  promised  me  a  five-pointed  cor- 
onet ;  it  will  become  me,  will  it  not?  " 

With  an  exceedingly  gracious  smile  she 
bowed  once  more  before  the  mirror. 

Friiulein  Perini  heard  outside  the  arrival 
of  the  Professorin.;  she  went  to  meet  her, 
and  begged  her  to  be  very  forbearing  and 
circumspect  with  the  much  agitated  Frau 
Ceres,  and  not  call  her  anything  but  Frau 
Baroness. 

"Why  did  you  send  me  word  that  she 
was  ill,  and  call  me  out  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  on  that  account  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ;  you  know  that  there, 
are  sick  people  who  do  not  go  to  bed." 

The  Professorin  understood  how  matters 
were. 

When  she  entered,  Frau  Ceres,  with  her 
face  still  turned  to  the  mirror,  exclaimed  :  — 

"Ah,  that's  good!  It  was  gracious  in 
you  to'  come,  my  dear  Professorin,  very 
friendly  —  very  kind.  I  am  a  good  friend 
of  yours,  too.'" 

She  then  turned  round  and  held  out  her 
hand  to  the  new-coiner. 

The  Professorin  did  not  congratulate  her, 
nor  did  she  call  her  Frau  Baroness. 

Frau  Ceres  now  wished  to  know  what 
her  husband  —  but  she  corrected  herself 
quickly  and  said:  "  I  should  say  the  Baron 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


401 


now;  well  —  what  has  the  Baron  to  do  in 
town  ;  must  he  pass  a  Knight's  examination, 
and  will  he  be  knighted  before  the  assem- 
bled multitude  ?  " 

The  Professorin  replied  that  there  was 
nothing  of  the  kind  now,  there  would  be 
simply  a  parchment  patent  delivered  to  him. 

"  Parchment  —  parchment  ?"  repeated 
Frau  Ceres  several  times  to  herself.  "  What 
is  parchment?  " 

"It  is  dressed  skin, "said  the  Professorin 
in  explanation. 

"Ah,  a  scalp — a  scalp.  I  understand. 
On  it  —  will  the  patent  be  written  with 
ink  just  the  same  as  everything  else  that 
they  write  ?  " 

She  stared  a  long  while  before  her,  then 
after  first  shutting  and  again  opening  her 
eyes,  she  begged  the  Professorin  to  choose 
one  of  her  finest  dresses  for  herself;  angry 
and  astonished,  the  Professorin  rose,  but 
she  sat  down  again  hastily,  and  said  that 
she  was  sensible  of  the  kindness  of  Frau 
Sonnenkamp,  but  she  no  longer  wore  such 
fine  dresses. 

"Frau  Sonnenkamp  doesn't  wear  them 
any  more  either.  Frau  Sonnenkamp,  Frau 
Sonnenkamp  !  "  rejoined  Frau  Ceres. 

She  wished  to  remind  the  Professorin 
that  she  had  not  called  her  Frau  Baroness. 

"Have  you  ever  known  of  the  elevation 
of  an  American  to  the  ranks  of  the  nobil- 
ity ?  "  she  asked  all  at  once. 

The  Professorin  said  no. 

When  it  was  now  mentioned  that  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  had  received  the  name  of  Baron 
von  Lichtenburg  from  the  castle  which  was 
rebuilding,  Frau  Ceres  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Ah,  that's  it !  that's  it !    Now  I  know  ! 
This  very  evening,  this  very  moment,  I  will 
visit  the  castle — our  castle!    Then  I  shall' 
sleep  sound.    You  shall  both  accompany 
me." 

She  rang  forthwith,  and  ordered  the 
horses  to  be  harnessed ;  both  the  ladies 
looked  at  each  other,  terror-stricken.  What 
would  come  of  it?  Who  knows  but  that 
on  the  road  she  might  suddenly  become  dis- 
tracted and  break  out  into  a  fit  of  insanity  ? 

The  Professorin  had  sufficient  presence 
of  mind  to  say  to  Frau  Ceres,  that  it  would 
be  much  better  to  make  the  visit  to  the  cas- 
tle the  next  morning  in  the  daytime  ;  that 
if  they  went  there  in  the  night,  it  would 
make  a  great  talk  in  the  neighborhood. 

"  Why  so  ?  Is  there  a  legend  about  our 
castle  ?  " 

There  was  indeed  such  a  legend,  but  the 
Professorin  took  care  not  to  tell  it  to  her  just 
then  ;  she  said  she  was  ready  to  drive  for  I 
an  hour  in  the  mild  night,  out  on  the  high  j 


road  with  Frau  Ceres ;  she  was  in  hopes 
that  it  would  quiet  her. 

And  so  the  three  women  set  out  together 
through  the  darkness  ofthat  pleasant  night. 
The  Professorin  had  so  arranged  matters 
that  there  was  not  only  a  servant  sitting  be- 
side the  coachman,  but  also  another  on 
the  back  seat.  She  sought  to  provide 
against  all  contingencies.  But  this  precau- 
tion was  not  necessary,  foV  as  soon  as  Frau 
Ceres  was  well  seated  in  the  carriage,  she 
became  very  quiet,  nay,  she  began  to  speak 
of  her  childhood. 

She  was  at  an  early  age  left  an  orphan, 
the  daughter  of  a  captain  on  one  of  Son- 
nenkamp's  ships,  who  had  made  long  and 
very  perilous  voyages  — yes,  very  perilous, 
she  repeated  more  than  once.  After  the 
death  of  her  parents,  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
had  taken  her  under  his  sole  guardianship, 
and  had  her  brought  up  by  herself  under 
the  care  of  an  old  female  servant,  and  of 
one  man  servant. 

"He  didn't  let  me  learn  anything,  not 
anything  at  all,"  she  complained  once  more  ; 
"  he  told  me,  '  It  is  better  for  you  to 
remain  as  you  are.'  I  was  not  quite  fifteen 
years  old  when  he  married  me." 

She  wept ;  but  then,  a  moment  after, 
clapping  her  hands  like  a  child,  she  ex- 
claimed, — 

' '  It's  all  a  story.  It  was  another  crea- 
ture entirely  that  went  through  all  this, 
that  used  to  lie  in  her  hammock  all  day 
long  and  dream  out  there,  and  now  in  Eu- 
rope—  but  it  is  just  as  well,  just  as  well, 
isn't  it?"  she  said,  and  reached  out  her 
hands  affectionately  to  the  Professorin  and 
Fräulein  Perini. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  said,  turning  to  the 
Professorin  mysteriously,  "do  you  think 
that  our  noble  rank  is  altogether  safe  and 
sure  ?  " 

"  After  the  decree  is  issued,  everything 
is  secure,  but  no  one  can  say  that  anything 
is  certain  before  it  comes  to  pass  ;  unfore- 
seen obstacles  may  arise  at  the  very  last 
moment." 

"  What  obstacles  ?  what  do  you  mean? 
what?  what  do  you  know?    Tell  me  all." 

The  Professorin  shuddered  inwardly.  The 
restlessness  and  terror,  the  wilful,  over- 
bearing, and  weak  nature  of  Frau  Ceres 
were  now  for  the  first  time  made  clear  to 
her  ;  here  was  a  woman  who  sought  to  tor- 
ment her  husband  by  revealing  to  her  child 
the  father's  past  life. 

With  entreaties  and  commands  Frau 
Ceres  endeavored  to  get  a  statement  of  the 
possible  obstacles,  and  she  was  only  quieted 
by  the  Professorin  assuring  her  that  she 


402 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


knew  of  nothing  definite.  In  spite  of  the  \ 
darkness,  Fräulein  Perini  noticed  how  pain- 
fully  this  untruth  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  j 
Professorin  ;  in  fact  she  was  just  able  to  let 
it  pass  her  lips,  because  she  felt  herself  in 
the  situation  of  the  physician  who  does  not 
venture  to  tell  his  fever-stricken  patient  the 
bitter  truth. 

Frau  Ceres  lay  back  in  the  corner  of 
the  carriage ;  she  went  to  sleep  like  a  child 
that  has  cried  itself  out  with  temper. 
Friiulein  Perini  earnestly  begged  the  Pro- 
fessorin to  call  Frau  Ceres  4  Baroness 1 
when  she  woke  up.  She  told  the  coachman 
to  turn  back ;  they  were  on  their  way  home 
to  the  Villa. 

Frau  Ceres  was  hard  to  wake ;  they  put 
her  to  bed.  She  thanked  the  two  ladies 
sincerely,  and  smiled  pleasantly,  when  the 
Professorin  said  at  last,  — 

"  I  hope  you'll  sleep  well,  Frau  Bar- 
oness." 


CHAPTER  XII. 
AN  EMPTY  NEST   AND   A  HOME   FOR  ALL. 

Toiling  hard,  and  still  singing  lustily, 
the  bird  has  built  his  nest  from  odds  and 
ends  from  every  quarter ;  restless  in  his 
task,  he  has  fed  his  young  while  starving 
himself,  contenting  himself  with  the  growth 
of  the  young  birds ;  and  now  they  have  all 
flown  away,  the  nest  is  empty  and  forsaken, 
—  torn  to  shreds. 

Such  was  the  reflection  in  Eric's  mind, 
as  he  stood  in  the  evening  by  Roland's 
bedside,  and  felt  his  heart  trembling  with 
anxiety  for  the  beloved  youth.  He  wan- 
dered out  across  the  country ;  he  felt  as  if 
he  must  go  to  some  friend,  to  some  human 
being,  on  whose  breast  he  could  lay  his 
weary  head. 

He  would  have  gone  to  Clodwig,  to  the 
Doctor,  to  Weidmann,  once  more  ;  but  they 
could  not  change  the  unchangeable,  and 
who  knows  but  that  in  another  hour  he 
would  be  needed  here  ?  he  must  not  leave 
his  mother,  he  must  not  leave  the  house, 
he  must  not  think  of  himself. 

Thus  he  roamed  about  like  a  wandering 
spirit  through  the  night.  He  saw  the  car- 
riage with  the  three  ladies  in  it  coming 
along  the  road ;  he  hid  himself  quickly  be- 
hind a  hedge ;  he  could  not  understand 
what  it  meant;  he  had  recognized  his 
mother,  Frau  Ceres,  and  Fraulein  Perini. 
Where  are  they  hurrying  to  ?  Or  had  he 
only  fancied  that  he  saw  them  ?  He  watched 
a  long  while,  then  the  carriage  returned, 
and  he  himself  went  homeward.  He  sat 
for  some  time  on  a  bench  in  the  field-path, 


opposite  the  green  cottage ;  he  saw  the 
light  go  out ;  at  last  he  went  to  the  villa. 

At  Manna's  window,  in  which  Jhere  was 
no  light  burning,  he  thought  he  saw  her 
looking  out ;  he  would  like  to  have  called 
out  to  her ;  but  he  did  not  venture  to ;  he 
had  no  right  to  disturb  her  in  her  sad  medi- 
tation. 

It  seemed  to  him  as  if  a  white  hand  was 
stretched  out  of  the  window ;  he  passed 
hurriedly  by. 

With  mute  lips  he  walked  up  and  down 
his  room;  it  seemed  to  him  so  strange  not 
to  be  talking  with  Roland  as  he  had  done 
every  evening  for  so  long. 

Eric  thought  that  he  would  seek  relief 
from  his  own  thoughts  in  some  book,  but 
he  pushed  away  the  book  with  the  hand 
he  had  reached  out  to  take  it  up.  Profes- 
sor Einsiedel  was  right,  he  had  cut  oil'  his 
soul  from  the  empire  of  clear  ideas ;  he 
cannot  easily  resume  the  connection.  He 
had  devoted  himself  to  a  single  human 
being,  and  now  that  he  had  left  him,  he 
was  undermined,  and  without  support. 
And  still  he  said  again  to  himself,  If  thou 
hadst  not  sacrificed  thyself  for  Roland,  he 
would  not  be  so  well  equipped  as  he  is, 
and  as  he  will  yet  prove  himself  tu  be, 
in  dangers  and  temptations.  I  wonder 
whether  he  is  thinking  of  and  yearning  for 
me  at  this  moment  as  I  am  for  him  P  Not 
now ;  now  the  whirlpool  of  life  is  laying 
hold  of  him ;  but  moments  will  come  when 
he  will  turn  towards  me,  and  I  will  be  pre- 
pared. 

Eric  was  revolving  in  his  mind  what 
Avould  become  of  himself  now ;  he  could 
not  imagine,  but  consoled  himself  with  the 
reflection  that  each  coming  day  would  bring 
its  task  with  it. 

It  occurred  to  him  now,  for  the  first  time, 
that  he  had  in  his  possession  some  of  the 
property  whieh  had  been  earned  in  such  a 
way.  He  was  determined  not  to  retain  it. 
Where  should  he  bestow  it?  To  whom 
could  he  restore  it?  He  knew  not,  but 
there  was  in  his  soul  a  certain  fullness  of 
freedom,  as  he  thought,  and  said  aloud  to 
himself,  — 

"Thou  art  poor  once  again,  thou  hast 
again  nothing  but  thvself;  but  thou  hast 
thyself." 

What  fortunes  had  he  not  experienced 
in  these  rooms  !  how  his  soul,  his  heart  had 
been  swayed  to  and  fro  with  emotion  !  and 
to-morrow,  within  a  few  days,  is  this  house 
to  be  forsaken,  left  far  behind,  a  remem- 
brance. 

And  then  ? 

"  Come  day,  come  fate,  thou  shalt  find  me 
ready ! 1 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Eric  felt  utterly  forsaken  and  robbed  of 
his  all ;  he  longed  after  a  being  outside 
of  himself,  to  clasp  him  in  her  arms,  and 
say  to  him:  Thou  art  at  home,  thou  art 
at  home,  thou  art  with  me.  He  trembled 
when  he  thought :  How  would  it  be  if  Bella 
should  see  me  ?  And  his  cheeks  began  to 
glow,  for  he  thought  to  himself  thus :  No, 
Manna,  thou  alone  thou  shalt  never  know, 
'twill  be  better  for  thee  and  for  me.  And 
how  ?  Should  I  call  thee  mine,  and  bear 
with  thee  the  burden  of  this  horrid  wealth  ? 
Wealth  !  Thou  wouldst  not  be  in  my  way  ; 
I  have  pride  enough.  But  no,  it  shall  be 
put  to  death  before  it  has  time  to  live ; 
never  shall  it  cross  these  lips. 

He  held  his  hand  for  some  time  pressed 
against  his  mouth.  At  last,  shutting  his 
eyes,  he  said  half  aloud  :  — 

"  Good-night,  Roland." 

When  he  woke  up  —  and  his  first  thought 
was,  ' '  How  is  Roland  this  morning  ?  "  —  he 
heard  the  church-bells  ringing.  He  left  the 
house  and  would  have  gone  to  his  mother's, 
but  he  dreaded  meeting  her,  for  the  remem- 
brance of  what  Weidmann  had  imparted  to 
him  was  reviving  in  his  breast,  as  if  he  were 
listening  to  it  now  for  the  first  time.  He 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  said  to  him- 
self: O  sun,  what  bringest  thou  new  to- 
day? 

And  wonderful !  In  the  midst  of  all  his 
foriornness,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  sorrow, 
there  came  upon  him  suddenly,  as  if  he 
were  standing  on  the  threshold  of  fortune, 
something  unspeakable,  something  undis- 
cernible,  and,  no  one  could  tell  whence  it 
was  sent. 

The  bells  were  still  ringing.  There  is 
yet  something  calling  upon  men,  upon 
every  one,  and  every  one  may  listen  to  and 
follow  after  it,  wherefore  not  also  thou  ? 
He  did  not  like  to  be  wandering  about  in 
aimless  dissipation  of  thought.  "  The  walk 
in  the  open  air,11  as  Knopf  had  called  it. 
came  into  his  mind. 

He  went  to  the  church,  and  on  the  way 
the  good  Knopfs  words  haunted  him :  — 
"  Our  life  is  not  simply  a  walk  in  the  open 
air." 

He  entered  the  church  just  as  the  organ 
pealed  out.  Knopf  is  right,  he  continued 
to  himself;  there  are  the  seats,  the  candle- 
sticks, the  kneeling-stools,  and  they  are 
waiting  peacefully  and  quietly  for  the 
comers.  Who  knows  what  his  neighbor 
cherishes  in  his  heart?  But  it  is  a  meeting- 
place  where  we  find  each  other  and  we  find 
ourselves. 

Eric  sat  down  quietly  behind  a  pillar. 

As  he  looked  up,  he  saw  Manna  kneeling 
not  far  from  the  altar. 


403 

So  will  she  soon  kneel  when  she  is  mar- 
ried to  Pranken. 

Terrified,  as  if  some  one  had  seized  him 
from  behind,  Eric  looked  round  ;  there  was 
no  one  there.  He  would  have  left  the 
church,  but  the  quiet  hour  and  the  quiet 
service  did  him  good.  What  further  he 
thought  of,  he  knew  not.  The  .  organ 
sounded,  Manna  passed  him  by,  he  heard 
the  rustle  of  her  dress,  he  did  not  stir. 
The  lights  on  the  altar  were  extinguished, 
he  left  the  church. 

"  Ah,  you  too  were  in  the  church  ?  n  was 
the  question  put  to  him  in  a  woman's  voice. 

He  looked  up  astonished  ;  Fraulein  Milch 
stood  before  him.  He  greeted  her  pleasant- 
ly, and  said  he  was  not  aware  that  she  also 
was  a  Catholic. 

"  I  am  not  one,  but  there  are  times  when 
I  cannot  pray  alone,  I  must  go  into  another 
house,  into  one  that  has  been  erected  to  the 
Most  High  ;  then  must  I  be  with  my  fellow- 
creatures,  who,  like  me,  seek  consolation 
and  peace  in  the  Eternal,  even  if  they  do 
call  upon  him  in  another  way  than  mine. 
I  do  not  pray  as  the  others  do,  but  I  pray 
with  them." 

She  looked  confidingly  into  his  counte- 
nance, as  if  she  meant  to  say,  "  Thou  canst 
not  be  alone  either."  As  Eric  did  not 
make  any  answer,  she  asked  after  his 
mother,  and  begged  him  to  say  to  her,  that 
she  had  not  been  to  visit  her  because  she 
was  afraid  of  disturbing  her ;  but  that  she 
herself  would  always  be  found  at  home. 

"And  you,  Captain,  must  come  and  see 
us  whenever  you  feel  like  it.  We  have 
not  a  great  deal  to  offer,  but  there  is  one 
thing  that  can  always  be  had  at  our  house, 
and  that  is  quiet.  And  you  need  not  even 
bid  good-day  when  you  come,  but  you  can 
make  yourself  at  home  with  us,  whenever 
you  happen  to  feel  the  need." 

She  now  asked  how  Eric  felt  since 
Roland  had  left  him,  and  she  was  the  first 
to  whom  Eric  expressed  his  great  longing 
for  the  youth. 

"  Roland  has  become  more  to  me!  than 
my  dead  brother  was  !"  he  exclaimed. 

And  just  as  he  was  uttering  these  words 
in  a  somewhat  loud  and  trembling  voice, 
Manna  passed  by ;  she  had  come  out  of 
the  Priest's  house.  She  greeted  both  quiet- 
ly, and  pressed  her  prayer-book  tightly  to 
her  heart. 

"I  would  be  glad  to  have  her  a  happy 
nun,  but  she  will  not  be  a  hapjDy  nun,"  said 
Fraulein  Milch. 

"Naturally,"  said  Eric,  jokingly ;  "she 
will  be  Frau  von  Pranken." 

"  Frau  von  Pranken  !  Never." 

"  And  are  you  earnest  in  saying  so  ?  " 


404 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Yes,  for  Herr  von  Pranken  is  going  to 
marry  the  young  widow,  the  daughter  of 
Herr  von  Endlieh." 

"  I  dorft  understand  this.1' 

"  Don't  forget,  Captain,  that  I  have  told 
you  so  this  day.  I  know  a  little  something 
about  men.  I  have  never  had  a  word 
from  Baron  Pranken  exeept  the  question, 
'  Where  is  the  Major?'  He  never  addressed 
me  myself  in  any  way,  and  I  do  not  take  it 
ill  of  him,  but  still,  for  all  that,  I  know 
him." 

Eric's  countenance  brightened ;  he  had 
no  reason  for  putting  faith  in  Fraulein 
Milch's  conjecture,  and  still  he  did  put 
faith  in  it.  And  now  it  occurred  to  him, 
that  he  had  joyfully  anticipated  something, 
he  knew  not  what,  to-day ;  now  he  had 
experienced  it. 

lie  accompanied  Fräulein  Milch  home. 
The  Major  was  not  in  ;  he  had  gone  to  the 
castle,  for  there  was  still  a  great  deal  to  be 
done,  to  be  ready  for  the  solemn  opening 
of  the  castle  which  was  soon  to  take  place. 

Eric  turned  back  and .  went  to  his 
mother's. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  GRACIOUS  HAND  POURS  OUT  THE  WINE. 

Are  you,  too,  down-hearted  and  medita- 
tive ?"  cried  the  Doctor,  meeting  him  as  he 
was  entering  the  house.  "  I  find  here  a 
whole  colony  of  low-spirited  people.  What 
is  there  then  in  this  whole  affair  so  discour- 
aging? Herr  Sonnenkamp  is  getting  new 
clothes  and  a  new  equipage  made.  In  old 
times,  I  still  remember  them,  a  commoner 
did  not  dare  to  drive  out  in  a  coach  and 
four,  or,  if  he  did,  the  horses  had  to  be  put 
in  hempen  traces.  Well,  Herr  Sonnenkamp 
is  getting  leather  traces  made.  What  of 
that?  Frau  Ceres  is  sick,  Manna  is  sick, 
the  Professorin  is  sick,  the  Captain  looks 
sick ;  Fraulein  Perini  and  your  aunt  are  the 
only  ones  in  health  in  the  hospital.  Effer- 
vescing powders  must  be  the  prescription 
for  everybody  to-day."  The  Doctor  brought 
with  him  a  cheerful  tone,  which,  like  a  spicy 
breeze  from  the  mountain  forests,  was 
sweeping  away  the  mists.  The  Mother 
could  not  teil  why  she  was  so  uneasy,  Eric 
could  not  tell  why  he  was.  The  Doctor 
counselled  Eric  to  take  shares  in  the  new 
mine,  and  keep  his  knowledge  as  a  jewel 
for  himself. 

They  had  discovered  a  new  stratum  of 
manganese  in  the  soil  of  Mauenheim  ;  his 
son-in-law  had  been  to  see  him,  and  had 
said  a  great  deal  to  him  about  the  favorable 
impression  Eric  had  left  behind  him  in  the 
family  there. 


The  Doctor  took  Eric  back  to  the  villa 
with  him,  and  just  as  they  were  entering 
the  courtyard  there  came  a  telegram  to 
Eric.  It  was  from  Herr  Sonnenkamp, 'and 
contained  a  request  that  he  would  let  Frau 
Ceres  know  that  at  that  very  moment  he 
was  on  his  way  to  court. 

The  Doctor  undertook  the  responsibility 
of  holding  back  this  news  from  Frau  Ceres ; 
she  was  near  enough  to  delirium  without 
that ;  he  had  ordered  her  a  sleeping  po- 
tion. 

At  table  appeared  Fräulein  Perini,  Man- 
na, and  Eric.  After  the  first  course,  Fräu- 
lein Perini  was  called  to  Frau  Ceres,  and 
did  not  come  back. 

Manna  and  Eric  were  left  alone. 

"  You  were  also  in  the  church  to-day," 
said  Manna. 

"Yes." 

"I  must  beg  your  forgiveness,  I  have 
done  you  wrong." 

"  Done  me  wrong?  " 

"  Yes,  I  thought  you  were  without  re- 
ligion." 

"  So  I  am,  according  to  strict  opinions." 

Manna  said  nothing;  she  laid  the  bit  she 
was  just  raising  to  her  mouth  down  again 
on  her  plate.  Both  sat  silent,  opposite  each 
other,  for  a  long  while ;  each  was  seeking 
after  a  safe  topic  of  conversation. 

"  You  had  a  younger  brother  whom  you 
have  lost  ?  I  heard  you  speaking  of  him 
to-day,"  began  Manna,  blushing  up  to  her 
temples. 

"  Yes,  he  was  of  the  age  of  Roland,  and 
this  very  day  I  have  been  wondering  why 
I  could  not  be  as  much  to  my  dear  brother 
as  I  have  been  to  our  Roland." 

"  Do  not  say  have  been ;  you  are  still,  and 
will  remain  so  to  him.  Roland  repeated  to 
me  an  expression  of  yours:  'Friends 
who  can  forsake  one  another  were  never 
friends.' " 

"Certainly,  but  what  comfort  is  that 
thought,  if  one  no  longer  breaks  the  daily 
bread  of  life  with  another  ?  I  have  known, 
however,  that  this  separation  must  occur,  I 
have  recognized  it  as  necessary  ;  and  still, 
for  the  first  time,  I  see  how  almost  con- 
stantly, for  along  while,  I  have  thought  of 
nothing,  felt  nothing,  experienced  nothing, 
but  that  I  forthwith  connected  Roland  with 
it, —  living  only  for  him.  Now  the  whole 
bent  of  my  thoughts  must  be  changed,  a 
new  object  found,  for  the  old  chain  is 
crushed,  severed,  cast  off,  and  I  feel  so 
homeless  and  forlorn." 

"  I  understand  that  perfectly,"  said  Man- 
na, as  Eric  paused  for  a  moment. 

She  sipped  the  wine  that  stood  before  her. 

Eric  continued : — 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


405 


"  I  have  a  poetic  friend,  a  peculiar  man, 
who  takes  everything  terribly  hard:  he  is  a 
man,  who,  with  his  whole  soul,  unreservedly 
and  exclusively,  forgetful  of  all  else,  loves 
his  calling.  He  complained  to  me  once  how 
empty,  lonely  and  forsaken  he  seemed  to 
himself,  when  he  had  put  the  finishing 
stroke  to  a  work  which  was  then  about  to 
go  forth  from  him  into  the  wide  world,  to 
find  its  home  everywhere,  and  to  remain 
with  him  no  more.  He  had  devoted  all  his 
thought  and  feeling,  night  and  day,  to  the 
creations  of  his  fancy,  and  now  they  had 
wandered  across  the  sea  into  another  world, 
there,  to  be  no  longer  his.  He  could  not 
withdraw  his  thoughts  from  them,  and  yet 
he  could  do  nothing  more  for  them,  for  their 
clearer  presentation,  for  their  perfect  de- 
velopment. Yes,  my  dear  Franlein,  and 
these  are  only  creations  of  the  fancy  that 
forsake  the  man  and  make  him  so  lonely. 
How  much  stronger  must  the  feeling  be 
then,  when  a  living  man,  who  has  taken 
root  in  our  soul,  has  forsaken  us.'1 

Manna  was  gazing  full  at  him  ;  big  tears 
hung  on  her  long  eye-lashes,  and  she  saw  a 
dewy  lustre  in  his  ;  she  folded  her  hands  on 
the  table,  and  quietly  looked  into  Eric's 
countenance. 

He  felt  this  look,  and  said  confusedly  : — 

"  Forgive  my  egotism  in  speaking  only 
of  myself.  I  would  not  put  any  further 
burden  upon  the  sister,  and  I  can  straight- 
way give  you  the  consolation  which  I  have 
found  for  myself,  and  which  will  serve  for 
you  too.  We  have.no  right  t,o  give  our 
soul  one  exclusive  interest,  and  in  that  way 
lose  sight  of  all  the  world  beside  ;  our  soui 
must  be  satisfied  to  feel  that  there  are  other 
things  in  the  world,  of  which  account  must 
be  taken.  Only,  in  the  sense  of  desertion, 
while  this  inevitable  wound  still  bleeds,  one 
can  do  nothing  else  than  wait  quietly,  and 
compose  one"s  self  in  the  thought  of  the  full- 
ness of  the  powers  of  the  world,  and  the  full- 
ness of  the  duties  and  joys  which  lie  in  our 
fitness  to  use  those  powers.  Ah.  my  dear 
Fräulein,"  he  said,  interrupting  himself, 
"my  mother  likes  to  tell  of  an  old  parson, 
who  cried  out  to  his  congregation  : — 'Chil- 
dren, I  preach  not  for  you  alone,  I  preach 
also  for  myself ;  I  have  need  of  it.1 11 

A  smile  flitted  across  Manna's  counte- 
nance, and  Eric  smiled  too. 

'•Yes,  so  it  is!"  he  continued,  "it  is 
not  to  the  isolated,  to  the  wandering,  to 
the  changeable,  but  to  the  Everlasting,  we 
should  devote  our  service ;  to  the  Spirit 
abiding  in  the  universal,  that  we  should  be 
submissive,  until  he  calls  us  to  another  post. 
Whither?  Wherefore?  Who  can  say? 
We  experience  the  death  of  sweet  individual 


relations,  to  enter  anew  into  the  grand  com- 
munity of  the  eternal  whole." 

"You  are  without  religion  —  no;  you 
shall  not  say  that  of  yourself,  you  are  not 
irreligious,"  exclaimed  Manna. 

"Many  hold  me  for  a  laggard,  others  as 
cowardly  and  obsequious,  because  I  believe 
in  God,  in  a  wise  consistency  and  gracious 
providence,  in  the  events  which  we  meet  in 
the  history  of  mankind  in  general,  and  in 
the  course  of  life  of  individual  men  in  par- 
ticular." 

Manna's  cheeks  were  glowing,  she  un- 
folded her  hands,  she  stretched  forth  her 
hand  as  if  she  wished  to  give  it  to  Eric, 
but,  on  its  way,  it  seized  the  flask  and  she 
said  : — 

"  We  are  so  grave  ;  and  really,  am  I  not 
a  sorry  hostess  ?  " 

She  poured  out  the  wine  for  him,  he 
drank  it  at  a  draught,  and  while  he  was 
drinking,  his  gaze  rested  on  Manna.  She 
knew  that  he  was  contemplating  her,  she 
cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  I  must  make  still  another  acknowledg- 
ment to  you,"  she  said.  She  stopped  as  if 
waiting  for  breath,  then  she  continued  : — 

"As  you  were  speaking  of  your  being 
now  so  sad  because  you  can  do  nothing 
more  for  Roland,  it  was  becoming  clearer 
and  clearer  to  me  anew  what  happiness, 
what  faith  I  also  have  lost." 

She  closed  her  eyes,  she  breathed  heavily  ; 
then  she  opened  her  eyes  once  more,  and 
said : — 

"  I  believed  at  onetime  that  one  could 
pray  for  another,  for  one  absent,  a  distant 
one,  wherever  and  whatever  he  might  be ; 
I  believed  that  one  could  sacrifice  himself 
for  another,  and  everything  would  be  atoned 
for.    Ah  !  now  I  believe  so  no  more." 

Eric  made  no  answer ;  he  knew  with 
what  a  struggle  this  acknowledgment  was 
wrung  from  her  lips.  Silent  they  sat  oppo- 
site each  other,  and  a  thrill  went  through 
Eric.  Now  he  knew  that  Manna  loved  him, 
for  only  to  the  man  she  loved  could  she 
have  confided  what  she  had.  A  spiritual 
cloud  of  joy  and  of  grief  seemed  around 
him ;  this  maiden  loved  him  and  he  loved 
her,  her  with  such  a  dowry  from  such  a 
father. 

Luckily,  a  servant  entered  and  told  Eric 
that  his  mother  was  expecting  him. 

"I  will  accompany  you,"  said  Manna, 
rising.    She  went  to  get  her  hat. 

Eric  was  standing  in  the  dining-hall ;  the 
plates  and  glasses  and  dishes  were  dancing 
before  his  eyes.  Manna  returned  quickly  ; 
her  countenance  was  more  serene  than  ever ; 
she  was  once  more  the  young  maiden,  she 
had  the  clear  voice  and  the  brisk  movement 


406 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


of  youthfulness,  as  she  made  a  gentle  bow, 
and  invited  Erie  to  go  with  ber.  They 
were  detained  in  the  entranee  hall ;  a  pack- 
age for  Manna  had  been  received. 

"  Ah  !  the  silk  dress  from  the  Moravians," 
she  said.  "I  suppose  you  know,  Captain, 
that  these  people  are  not  of  our  church,  and 
still  they  get  their  support  from  the  church. 
Or  are  you  a  contemner  of  the  Moravians, 
also  ?  " 

"'Contemner'  is  not  my  word,  but  I 
find  their  conduct  .inconsistent.  They  are 
constantly  preaching  simplicity,  renuncia- 
tion of  self,  contempt  of  show,  and  of 
worldly  enjoyments,  and  they  trade  in 
silken  goods  and  Havana  cigars  ;  they  rely 
on  the  sinfulness  of  other  men  just  like  the 
mendicant  friar  who  says :  '  I  will  not 
work  and  earn  money,  but  of  course  others 
should  earn  money  for  me  to  beg.'  " 

"Take  in  the  package,"  said  Manna  to 
the  servant. 

She  walked  quietly  on  with  Eric. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
FROM  SIBYLLINE  BOOKS. 

On  the  way  Manna  said  :  — 

"Do  you  know  that  I  had  an  aversion 
for  you,  when  I  came  here  ?  11 

"  Yes  indeed,  I  knew  it." 

"And  why  didn't  you  try  to  convert  me 
from  it  ?  " 

Eric  was  silent,  and  Manna  asked  him 
once  more  :  — 

*'  Is  it  then  a  matter  of  so  much  indiffer- 
ence to  you  what  people  think  of  you  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  am  a  servant  of  your  house, 
and  have  no  right  to  seek  for  any  special 
consideration  in  your  sight." 

"  You  are  very  proud." 

"  I  do  not  deny  it." 

"  Don't  you  know  that  pride  is  a  fault?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  when  one  makes  preten- 
sions and  detracts  from  the  worth  of  others. 
But  I  keep  my  pride  for  myself  alone,  or 
rather,  I  say  with  St.  S«imon  :  —  'If  I  con- 
sider myself  I  feel  dejected,  if  I  consider 
my  fellow-men  I  feel  proud." 

"You  are  too  clever  for  me,"  said 
Manna,  banteringly. 

"I  don't  like  to  hear  you  say  so,  for 
those  are  only  empty  words.  No  man  is 
too  clever  for  another,  if  each  one  says  to 
himself:  '  I  have  something  in  my  own 
way  too.  You  should  not  make  use  of  such 
expressions.  My  respect  for  you  rests 
upon  the  very  fact  that  I  never  before 
heard  from  you  an  empty  phrase.  What 
you  say  is  not  always  logically  true,  but  it 
is  true  for  you." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Manna  quickly,  rest- 


I  ing  the  tips  of  her  fingers  upon  his  hand ; 
and,  as  if  recollecting  herself,  she  added 
hastily  once  more  :  — 

"  I  thank  you." 
"  "I  know  not  why  it  is  ;  I  have  been  deliv- 
ered from  an  oppressive  melancholy,  and  I 
feel  as  if  it  was  a  whole  year  since  I  was  so 
sad.  We  have  the  good  fortune  to  under- 
stand each  other  in  the  highest  thoughts, 
and  thought  in  the  hightest  strain  admits 
no  measurement  of  time." 

"  Ah  yes,"  rejoined  Manna,  "  in  the  very 
midst  of  all  my  sorrows  the  thought  has 
been  present  to  me  all  day :  '  Some- 
thing is  coming  that  will  give  you  joy.' 
Now  I  know  what  it  was.  You  were  the 
friend  and  instructor  of  Roland ;  take  me 
instead  of  him  ;  be  my  friend  and  instructor. 
Will  you  ?  " 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him,  and 
both  gazed  at  each  other  with  a  look  of  joy. 

"Ah,  there  sits  your  mother,"  cried 
Manna  all  at  once ;  with  a  swift  step  she 
hastened  to  the  Professorin,  and  kissed  her 
passionately. 

The  Professorin  was  astonished  to  see 
her.  Is  this  the  same  maiden  at  whose 
bedside  she  had  sat  the  evening  before, 
whose  chilled  hands  she  had  warmed,  to 
whom  she  had  spoken  the  words  of  encour- 
agement ?    Youth  is  an  everlasting  riddle. 

Manna  held  her  hand  to  her  eyes  for 
some  time,  and  as  she  opened  them  once 
more,  she  said  :  — 

"  Ah,  if  I  only  were  the  bird  up  there  in 
the  air !  'J 

The  mother  made  no  answer,  and  Manna 
continued :  — 

"  I  see  everything  to-day  for  the  first 
time ;  there  is  the  Rhine,  there  are  the 
mountains,  there  the  houses,  there  the 
men  ;  a  bird  of  passage,  —  yes,  one  that  has 
been  hatched  in  Asia,  —  is  coming  towards 
us,  towards  you.  I  am  really  so  sorrowful, 
so  sad  ;  and  still  there  is  something  within 
me  singing  lustily  and  singing  always ; 
'  Thou  art  merry,  do  not  seek  to  be  other- 
wise.' Ah,  mother,  it  is  dreadfully  sinful  to 
be  as  I  am." 

"  No,  my  child,  you  are  still  a  child,  and 
a  child,  they  say,  has  smiles  and  tears  in 
the  same  bag.  Rejoice  that  you  are  so 
young;  perhaps  something  of  childhood 
has  been  repressed  in  you,  and  now  it  is 
coming  out.  No  one  can  say  when,  and  no 
one  can  say  where.  We  take  things  too 
hard  altogether;  things  are  not  quite  so 
frightful  as  we  women  imagine.  I  am  quite 
cheerful  since  the  Doctor  was  here.  We 
may  become  accustomed  to  look  at  every- 
thing in  a  gloomy  way  ;  then  it  is  well  if 
some  one  comes  and  says  :    '  But  just  see, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


the  world  is  neither  so  wicked  nor  so  good 
as  we  persuade  ourselves*  it  is,  and.  things 
run  on  either  well  or  ill,  and  not  in  their 
logical  course.  My  blessed  husband  said 
that  many  and  many  a  time.'1 

Manna*  seemed  not  to  have  heard  what 
the  Mother  said ;  she  exclaimed  in  a  mem- 
tone  :  — 

"  At  this  moment  we  are  all  ennobled,  and 
still  I  do  not  perceive  anything  of  the  no- 
bility in  me,  and  yet  one  ought  to  be  able 
to  perceive  something.11 

There  was  an  unusually  light-hearted 
tone  in  everything  she  said,  and  she  con- 
tinued :  — 

"Tell  me  now,  how  did  you  feel  on  the 
day  you  laid  aside  your  nobility  ?  " 

"  No  trace  of  sorrow  ;  it  only  pained  me 
when  my  lady  friends  assured  me  strongly 
that  they  would  always  remain  the  same  to 
me ;  and  in  this  very  assurance  lay  the 
conviction  that  it  was  otherwise,  and  they 
were  all  the  time  telling  me  how  they  had 
loved  me,  as  if  I  were  no  longer  living,  and 
indeed  to  many  I  was  already  dead,  for  to 
them  a  human  being  that  has  lost  the  rank 
of  noble,  is,  as  it  were,  sunk  into  the  realm 
of  the  departed  spirits.'" 

The  Mother  and  Manna  sat  trustfully  be- 
side each  other ;  for  a  time  every  sorrow 
was  forgotten,  every  care,  every  anxiety. 

Eric  had  left  the  Mother  and  Manna 
alone  ;  he  was  standing  near  a  rose-bush 
and  observing  how  the  rose  leaves  were 
falling  off,  so  softly,  so  quietly,  as  if  plucked 
by  a  spirit-hand.  He  gazed  at  the  leaves 
on  the  ground,  he  knew  not  his  thoughts. 
Roland,  Manna,  his  mother,  the  terrible 
past  of  Sonnenkamp,  all  was  confusion  in 
his  mind ;  he  believed  that  he  no  longer 
saw  the  world  as  it  is.  If  he  only  had  some 
one  to  call  him  to  hinjself.  He  felt  how  his 
cheeks  were  glowing,  and  how  he  was  trem- 
bling. 

You  love  and  are  beloved  by  this  maiden, 
by  the  daughter  of  this  man. 

What  is  a  daughter  ? 

Everyone  exists  for  himself  alone. 

On  the  ground  floor  was  his  father's  li- 
brary ;  the  windows  were  open  ;  he  went  in. 

It  entered  into  his  mind  that  there  must 
be  something  in  the  manuscripts  left  by  his 
father  that  would  give  him  consolation  and 
support ;  perhaps  the  spirit  of  his  father 
would  speak  to  his  joyful  and  sorrowful 
perplexity.  He  began  to  search  amongst 
the  papers  ;  everything  seemed  to  be  ready 
for  his  hand  that  was  not  wanted.  He  un- 
tied a  bundle  of  pieces,  the  superscription 
of  which  bore  the  title,  "  Sibylline  Books  ;" 
he  took  up  a  leaf. 


407 

"  That's  the  thing  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

He  was  standing  with  his  back  leaned 
against  the  open  window ;  he  heard  his 
mother  advising  Manna  to  adhere  right 
steadfastly  and  faithfully  to  her  religious 
convictions.  There  were,  it  is  true,  forms 
and  observances  in  it  which  she  did  not 
recognize  as  her  own,  but  there  was  also  in 
it  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  which 
alone  gives  us  strength  to  bear  misfortune 
and  sustain  joy. 

"  Mother,11  he  called  out,  suddenly  turn- 
ing round. 

The  women  started. 

"Mother,  I  bring  you  something  that 
carries  on  your  idea.1' 

He  went  out,  showed  them  his  father's 
writing,  and  said  that  he  would  read  to 
them. 

"Ah  yes,"  exclaimed  Manna;  "it  is 
good  and  kind  of  you  to  bring  your  father 
here ;  how  I  would  have  liked  to  know  him. 
Do  you  not  believe  that  he  is  now  looking 
down  upon  us  ?  " 

Eric  looked  at  his  mother ;  he  did  not 
know  what  answer  to  give,  and  the  Mother 
said :  — 

"According  to  the  ordinary  conception 
of  the  word  '  looking,'  we  cannot  conceive 
its  being  done  without  eyes.  We  have  no 
conception  how  a  spirit  exists,  but  there  is 
not  a  day  nor  an  hour  that  I  do  not  live  in 
communion  with  my  departed  husband ;  he 
has  come  with  me  here,  he  will  remain  with 
me  wherever  I  go,  till  my  last  breath.  But 
let  me  see  —  what  is  it,  Eric  ?  " 

"It  has  an  odd  title,"  answered  the  lat- 
ter; "  it  treats  of  these  things,  which  I  can- 
not explain,  and  which  perhaps  no  one  can 
explain.11 

"  Read,  I  beg  of  you,"  entreated  Manna. 

Eric  began  to  read  :  — 

"  Two  things  there  are  which  stand  firm, 
while  the  heart  of  man  is  kept  vacillating 
between  defiance  and  despondency,  haugh- 
tiness and  faint-heartedness  ;  they  are  nature 
and  the  ideal  within  us.  The  church  is  also 
a  strong-hold  of  the  ideal,  firm  and  secure ; 
although  for  me  and  many  like  me,  it  is  not 
the  only  one. 

"  You  say,  nature  does  not  help  us.  What 
help  is  she  to  me,  when  the  crushing  con- 
viction of  imperfection,  of  perdition,  of 
guilt  comes  upon  me  and  takes  me  captive  ? 
Well,  nature  does  not  speak;  she  simply 
permits  herself  to  be  explained,  understood ; 
she  gives  back  the  echo  of  what  we  call  out 
to  her.  The  church,  on  the  contrary, 
speaks  to  us  in  our  individual  griefs,  she 
takes  us  up  into  the  universal ;  that  is  the 
great  lesson  of  the  expiatory  suffering.  We 


408 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


lay  our  grief  aside  when  we  think  of  the. 
great  grid*  which  the  greatest  of  hearts  took 
unto  itself. 

"  And  what  is  the  third  ?  you  ask. 

"A  third  is,  nature  and  the  ideal  com- 
bined, which  together  elevate  and  sustain  us. 

"  What  is  the  third  ?  We  call  it  art,  we  can 
also  call  it  love,  heroism.  In  this  view  of  mine, 
all  philosophy  also  belongs  to  art.  What 
the  genius  of  a  man  has  created  and  fash- 
ioned out  of  himself  as  the  evidence  of  his 
existence,  insight,  and  will,  appears  in  art 
as  visible  forms,  looks  down  upon  us  in  mar- 
ble and  in  color,  makes  it*elf  heard  by  us  in 
word  and  in  melody,  allows  us  to  be  con- 
scious and  to  feel  sure  that  our  fractional, 
half-expressed  being  has  fullness  and  com- 
pletion. 

"  These  are  the  images,  these  are  the  deeds 
of  genius,  wrought  in  consecrated  moments. 

"Art  does  not  console  sorrow,  it  does  not 
heal  directly,  but  it  brings  before  the  eyes, 
it  sounds  in  the  ear,  saying,  '  Attend  !  there 
is  a  life,  pure  and  perfect,  that  we  carry 
within  us.  Art  is  an  image  of  strength,  of 
joy,  of  content,  of  courage ;  it  does  not 
reach  out  its  hand  to  us,  it  simply  enables 
us  to  compose  ourselves  in  the  knowledge, 
in  the  consciousness,  in  the  perception  of 
an  existence  reposing  in  itself  outside  of 
us  ;  this  we  comprehend." 

Eric  interrupted  himself,  saying  :  — 

"Here  the  remark  is  made:  'I  knew  a 
woman  once,  who  would  neither  make  nor 
listen  to  music  during  her  period  of  mourn- 
ing, showing  what  art  was  to  her.'  " 

A  pause  followed. 

Eric  continued  his  reading  :  — 

"  In  the  hours  of  deepest  tribulation  I 
have  found  consolation,  peace,  restoration, 
solely  in  wandering  among  ancient  works  of 
art ;  others  may  derive  the  same  benefit  from 
music  that  I  have  from  viewing  these  forms 
of  antiquity.  It  was  not  the  thought  of  the 
grand  world  which  had  here  become  bronze 
and  marble  ;  it  was  not  the  remembrance 
of  the  soul  speaking  out  of  these  forms  that 
held  me  fast,  but  something  far  different 
from  either.  Behold  here,  they  seemed  to 
say  to  me,  a  blissful  repose,  which  has 
nothing  in  common  with  thee,  and  yet  is 
with  thee.  A  breath  of  the  Eternal  was 
wafted  over  me,  a  peaceful  rest  flowed  into 
my  troubled  heart,,  filled  my  gaze,  and 
calmed  my  emotions.  In  listening  to  music 
I'cou4d  always  dwell  dreamily  upon  my 
own  life  and  thought,  but  never  here. 

"  If  I  were  only  able  to  unfold  whither  this 
led  me,  how  I  wandered  in  the  infinite,  and 
then  how  I  went  abroad  into  the  tumultu- 


ous whirl  of  life,  feeling  that  I  was  attended 
by  these  steadfast,  peaceful,  godlike  forms, 
that  I  was  " 

Eric  broke  off  abruptly. 

Manna  begged :  — 

"  Do  read  on." 

"  There  is  nothing  further.  My  beloved 
father,  alas !  left  only  fragments  behind 
him." 

"  This  is  no  fragment,  it  is  complete  and 
perfect.  No  man  could  say  or  write  any- 
thing further,"  said  Manna;  "  nothing  else 
is  needed  but  to  allow  it  to  have  its  inward 
work.  Ah,  I  have  one  request  —  give  me 
the  sheet." 

Eric  looked  towards  his  mother,  who  said 
that  she  had  never  yet  parted  with  a  single 
line  of  her  husband's. 

"But  you,  my  child,"  she  said,  "you 
shall  have  it.  Eric  shall  copy  it  for  us  so 
that  we  may  not  lose  it." 

She  gave  the  manuscript  to  Manna,  who 
pressed  it  to  her  heaving  breast. 

"  Oh,  I  never  imagined,"  she  cried,  "  that 
there  was  such  a  world  in  the  world." 

Every  drop  of  blood  seemed  to  have  re- 
treated from  her  face ;  she  begged  the 
Mother  to  be  allowed  to  go  into  the  house ; 
she  would  like  to  be  alone,  she  was  so 
weary. 

The  Mother  accompanied  her.  Manna 
reclined  upon  the  sofa,  and  the  curtains  were 
drawn  ;  she  fell  asleep  with  the  manuscript 
in  her  hand. 

The  Mother  and  Eric  sat  together,  and 
Eric  determined  to  make  use  of  this  first 
opportunity,  when  there  was  no  immediate 
duty  bindmg  him,  to  publish  the  incomplete 
and  fragmentary  writings  left  by  his  father, 
as  there  would  be  found  many  to  make  them 
into  a  whole  within  their  own  souls. 

He  now  felt  all  at  once  free  and  full  of 
life  ;  now  there  was  something  for  him  to  do  ; 
and  he  could  fulfil  at  the  same  time  a  pious, 
filial  duty,  and  his  duty  as  a  man.  He  could 
make  essential  additions  from  his  own 
knowledge,  and  from  his  father's  verbal 
statements. 

He  went  back  to  the  library,  and  was 
deeply  engaged  in  the  writings,  when  Man- 
na entered. 

"You  here ?"  she  said.  "I  wanted  to 
take  one  look  at  the  outside  of  all  the  books 
on  which  your  father's  eye  has  rested.  I 
must  now  go  home,  but  I  have  to  day  re- 
ceived a  great  deal  more  than  I  can  tell." 

"  May  I  accompany  you  ?  " 

Manna  assented. 

Thev  went  together  across  the  meadow 
to  the  Villa. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


409 


CHAPTER  XV. 
EVERYTHING  IN  FLAMES. 

"With  lingering  step  they  walked  by  each 
other's  side,  Manna  often  looking  aside  to 
survey  the  landscape,  and  yet  conscious  all 
the  time  that  Eric  was  observing  her.  And 
then  Eric  would  turn  away,  still  feeling  that 
her  eye  rested  upon  him. 

+*  You  are  happy  in  possessing  the  thoughts 
of  such  a  father,1'  said  Manna,  feelingly. 

Eric  could  make  no  reply,  for  the  feeling 
oppressed  him,  how  the  poor  rich  child  would 
be  overwhelmed,  if  she  knew  what  he  did 
concerning  her  own  father ;  he  had  no  con- 
ception that  Manna's  words  were  wrung  out 
by  this  very  tribulation. 

"  I  cannot  become  the  heir  of  my  father's 
thoughts,1'  he  said,  after  an  interval.  "  Each 
child  must  live  out  his  own  life." 

They  continued  to  walk  side  by  side,  and 
it  seemed  to  them,  at  every  step,  that  they 
must  stop  and  hold  each  other  in  a  loving 
embrace. 

"  Roland  and  my  father  are  now  on  their 
way  home,"  said  Manna. 

"And  Herr  von  Pranken  also,"  Eric  was 
about  to  add,  but  refrained  from  doing  it. 

Manna  perhaps  felt  that  he  might  think 
strangely  of  her  omitting  to  mention  Pran- 
ken's  name,  and  she  asked  :  — 

"  Were  not  you  and  Baron  von  Pranken 
formerly  intimate  friends  ?  " 

"  We  were  comrades,  never  friends." 
They  were  silent  again  ;  there  were  so  many 
things  to  be  spoken  of,  crowding  upon  both 
of  them,  that  they  did  not  seem  to  know 
where  to  begin. 

The  evening  bell  tolled,  and  Manna  saw 
that  Eric  did  not  remove  his  hat.  She 
trembled.  Every  thing  stood  as  an  obstacle 
between  them  ;  even  the  Church  separated 
them  from  each  other. 

Manna  wore  around  her  waist,  beneath 
her  clothes,  a  small  hempen  cord  that  a  nun 
had  given  her  as  a  perpetual  reminder  of 
her  promise  to  assume  in  public  the  hempen 
girdle.  It  seemed  to  her  now  as  if  the  hid- 
den cord  were  suddenly  tightened,  and  then 
it  appeared  to  have  become  loosened.  With 
her  left  hand  she  grasped  tightly  a  tree  by 
the  road-side,  and  breathed  heavily. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Eric. 

"Oh,  nothing,  and  every  thing.  I  thank 
you  for  remaining  with  us.  Look  there  — 
there  above  —  high  over  the  castle-tower, 
two  falcons  are  flying.  Ah,  if  one  could  thus 
mount  aloft,  and  leave  behind  and  forget  all 
that  is  beneath  !  What  was  life  to  me  ?  A 
labor,  a  labor  upon  our  shroud.  I  wanted 
to  live  above  the  world  and  do  penance,  to 
implore  heaven's  grace  in  another's  behalf 


—  in  behalf  of  another  !  Ah,  I  can  do  it  no 
longer  —  no  longer." 

She  passed  her  hand  over  her  forehead, 
and  what  she  said  she  knew  not.  She  con- 
tinued walking,  and  yet  she  felt  as  if  she 
would  like  to  remain  in  the  same  spot. 

A  woman,  who  was  mowing  the  third  crop 
of  grass  in  the  meadow,  called  out  to  Man- 
na, saying  that  her  father  had  got  well,  and 
would  help  take  in  the  hay  to-morrow. 

"I  wish  I  was  yonder  mower,"  Manna 
exclaimed. 

"  Forgive  me,"  answered  Eric,  "  if  I 
cannot  help  expressing  my  surprise  at  your 
uttering  a  wish  like  that." 

"  I,  like  that  ?  Why  should  I  not  ?  " 

"  You  have  to-day  shown  such  clearness  of 
thought,  that  I  cannot  comprehend  your  giv- 
ing utterance  to  an  expression  so  common  on 
the  lips  of  thousands.  What  does  it  mean, 
when  one  says,  1 1  would  like  to  be  somebody 
else"?  If  you  were  some  one  else,  you  would 
still  not  be  a  different  person;  and  if  you 
retain  the  consciousness  you  had  before,  you 
would  not  be  some  one  else.  To  speak  in 
this  way  is  not  only  unreasonable,  but,  as  I 
view  it,  irreligious." 

Manna  stopped,  and  Eric  continued, — 

"We  are  what  we  are,  not  through  our 
own  instrumentality,  but  through  an  eternal- 
ordination  for  which  we  have  no  other  name 
but  God.  We  must  try  to  reconcile  our- 
selves to  what  we  are,  and  to  be  happy  in  our 
condition,  whether  poor  or  rich,  beautiful  or 
ugly." 

"  Well,  I  will  never  again  indulge  or  utter 
so  irrational  a  thought,"  replied  Manna, 
extending  her  hand  to  Eric.  She  trembled. 

They  walked  along  in  silence.  It  began 
to  be  dusk  in  the  shaded  paths ;  neither  of 
them  spoke. 

"  I  see  my  mother  yonder,"  said  Manna, 
sighing  deeply  as  she  stopped. 

Did  she  not  want  to  meet  her  mother 
while  walking  with  Eric?  She  had  often 
walked  with  him,  and  he  seemed  like  a 
brother  ;  there  was  no  harm  in  being  alone 
with  him. 

"  I  bid  you  farewell  here,"  Manna  added 
in  a  low  tone.  "What  a  day  this  has 
been  !    Has  it  been  only  a  day  ?  11 

"And  as  this  sun  now  going  down,"  in- 
terposed Eric,  "will  again  return,  and  be 
the  same  in  good  days  and  in  evil  days,  so 
you  have  a  true  friend  in  me,  one  whose 
eye  watches  over  you,  and  will  watch  over 
you  until  it  shall  be  closed  by  death." 

"  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  "  cried  Manna. 
"O  God,  I'm  sure  of  it!  " 

She  trembled  violently. 

"  I  entreat  you,  go  now,"  she  added. 

Eric  turned  away,  but  looking  back,  he 


410 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


saw  that  Manna  was  kneeling  at  the  foot  of 
a  large  fir-tree,  while  the  descending  sun 
shone  upon  her  countenance,  as  she 
stretched  her  folded  hands  up  towards 
heaven.  Then  she  rose  up ;  he  hastened 
to  meet  her  as  she  came  towards  him,  and 
they  were  enfolded  in  each  other's  arms. 

"Heaven  and  earth,  do  what  ye  will !  " 
she  cried.    "  Now  come  what  will !  " 

They  held  each  other  in  a  close  embrace, 
as  if  they  had  but  one  breath,  and  were 
eternally  joined  in  one  kiss. 

"  You  are  mine  !  mine !  my  father,  my 
hope,  my  world  !  Oh,  Eric,  leave  me  not 
again,  —  never  again  !  " 

"  I  leave  you  ?  " 

"No,  you  cannot.  Heaven  will  forgive, 
—  no,  will  bless.  See,  Eric  !  Everything 
is  on  fire,  the  trees,  the  grass,  the  Rhine, 
the  mountains,  the  sky,  everything  is  on 
fire  !  Ah,  Eric,  if  the  whole  earth  were  in 
flames,  I  would  hold  thee  in  my  arms,  and 
in  thine  arms  would  I  gladly  die.  Take 
me,  kill  me,  do  with  me  what  you  will,  I 
can't  do  otherwise." 

"Come,  look  up.  Is  it  indeed  you  ?  " 
replied  Eric.  "  You  know  not  how  I  have 
struggled.  Now  you  are  here,  now  you  are 
mine!  You  are  mine,  you  call  me  thine. 
Oh,  call  me  so  once  more." 

In  trembling  accents,  now  beginning  and 
now  breaking  off  again,  they  related  to  each 
other  thejr  struggles  with  themselves  and 
with  the  world  around  them,  and  they  re- 
cognized each  other's  purity  and  truthful- 
ness of  soul ;  and  in  proportion  as  Manna 
had  hitherto  closed  her  heart  to  Eric,  the 
whole  fountain  of  her  love  now  welled  up 
and  overflowed. 

As  they  stood  with  hands  clasped,  Eric 
said,  — 

"  O  Manna,  how  I  wish  you  could  be  so 
happy  as  to  see  your  own  look." 

"  And  you  yours.  Everyone  who  sees 
and  knows  you  must  love  you.  How  then 
can  I  help  it,  who  see  and  know  you  as  no- 
body else  can  ?  " 

They  kissed  each  other  with  closed  eyes, 
and  over  them  the  trees  rustled  in  the  gen- 
tle breeze  of  evening. 

On  that  bench  where  he  had  once  sat 
with  Bella,  Eric  now  sat  by  Manna's  side, 
and  a  thrill  passed  through  him  as  he 
thought  of  that  time.  He  shrank  from  the 
recollection.  With  love's  penetrating  glance 
Manna  noticed  the  passing  emotion,  .and 
asked :  — 

"  Have  you  too  had  to  wrestle  and 
struggle  so  sorely,  before  you  saw  and 
acknowledged  that  it  must  be  ?  " 

"  Ah,  let  us  not  recall  it;  care  and  trou- 
ble, conflict  and  struggle,  will  be  sure  to 


come.  Now  is  the  marriage  of  our  spirits  ; 
there  must  be  no  other  thought,  no  dis- 
cordant tone.  We  are  blessed,  twice 
blessed.  I  know  that  you  are  mine  as  I 
am  yours.    It  must  be  so." 

They  embraced;  and  as  she  cried,  "  O, 
Eric,  I  could  bear  you  in  my  arms  over  all 
the  mountains  !  "  He  saw  subdued  in  her  a 
wild,  lawless,  passionate  strength  of  nature, 
such  as  a  daughter  of  Sonnenkamp  must 
inherit. 

No  one  who  had  seen  the  modest,  hum- 
ble, gentle  child  of  the  morning  could  have 
believed  that  she  could  become  so  im- 
passioned. Eric  felt  himself  taken  posses- 
sion of  by  a  stronger  power. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  she  exclaimed,  as  if  she  read 
his  soul.  "You  think  I  am  a  passionate 
child,  do  you  not?  You've  no  idea  how 
untamed  I  am ;  but  you  shall  never  see  it 
again,  never,  rely  upon  that."  She  sat  by 
his  side,  stroking  his  hand,  and  with  an 
arch  glance  she  said  :  — 

"Ah,  dear  Eric,  you  don't  know  what  a 
foolish  child  I  am,  and  you  are  so  learned 
and  wise»  Now  tell  me  truly  without  any 
reserve  —  you  can  tell  me  what  you  please, 
for  I  am  yours  now  —  tell  me  truly,  do  you 
honestly  believe  that  I  am  worthy  of  you  ? 
I  am  so  ignorant  and  insignificant  compared 
with  you ! " 

"Ignorant  and  insignificant?  You  can 
freely,  fearlessly,  and  without  any  qualifica- 
tion, match  yourself  with  any  one  else  in 
sincere  aspiration,  in  pure  self-devotion, 
and  indisinteresteu  affection.  No  one  can 
surpass  you  here ;  everything  else  is  of 
no  account.  Knowledge,  beauty,  wealth, 
—  these  do  not  bring  love." 

"  And  I  will  learn  a  great  deal  from 
you,"  said  Manna,  gently  caressing  and 
kissing  his  hands.  "  Ah,  keep  on  talking; 
say  what  you  will;  it  is  music  to  me,  you 
cannot  think  how  like  music  it  is  to  hear 
you.  And  do  you  know  that  I  have  heard 
you  sing  too  ?  Twice.  Once  in  the  great 
festival,  and  once  here  on  the  Rhine." 

"  And  do  you  know,"  he  replied,  "  that  I 
saw  you  in  the  twilight  at  the  convent  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  looked  at  me  in  this  way.*1 
She  tried  to  imitate  his  look. 

"And  at  that  time,  when  we  returned 
from  the  festival,  a  dozen  of  the  pupils 
were  in  love  with  you  ;  but  I  was  afraid  of 
you,  and  yet  I  cannot  now  imagine  it. 
What  will  they  say  in  the  convent  ?  They 
will  look  upon  me  as  a  hypocrite  in  regard 
to  you,  and  —  oh,  Eric,  how  much  I  re- 
nounce, but  I  renounce  it  willingly.  And 
oh,  how  rejoiced  Roland  will  be !  " 

"  But  your  parents  ?  " 

"Yes,    my  parents!"  said  she.  "My 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


411 


parents  !  "  Her  voice  became  -fainter,  her 
countenance  turned  suddenly  pale,  and  she 
drew  closer  to  Eric,  as  if  she  were  cold. 
He  put  his  hand  upon  her  head,  and  played 
with  her  tresses,  while  she  held  his  other 
hand  closely  pressed  to  her  lips.  No  words 
were  needed,  they  could  not  speak,  for 
each  wanted  to  say  to  the  other :  Do  you 
know  what  I  would  say  ? 

"  Why  do  you  tremble  so,  all  at  once  ?  " 
asked  Manna. 

"  Ah,  I  wish  you  were  not  rich.1' 

"  I  wish  so  too,"  said  she,  in  a  drowsy 
tone.  "Let  us  be  quiet.  So  —  let  me 
sleep  here  only  half  a  minute.  Oh,  how  like 
music  is  the  beating  of  your  heart !  " 

She  reclined  her  head  for  a  few  moments 
against  his  breast,  and  then  said  : — 

"  A  hundred  years  have  passed  over  me, 
a  blissful  hundred  years.  Now  I  am  strong 
and  fresh  and  wide-awake ;  now  forget  all 
I  have  done  and  said,  all  except  one  thing, 
that  I  am  yours,  and  I  love  you  so  long  as 
I  breathe,  and  you  are  mine." 

"  You  wanted  to  become  a  nun,  and  I  — 
I  wanted  also  to  renounce  the  would." 

"  But  are  you  not  a  Huguenot?  " 

"  I  did  not  .mean  that,  my  Manna.  I 
wanted  to  renounce  what  is  called  the  world, 
and  be  wholly  devoted  to  a  life  of  thought." 

4 '  And  ean  you  not  do  that  if  I  am  yours  ?  " 

"No.  But  why  speak  of  this  now?  I 
am  no  longer  alone,  1  am  mvself  and  vou 
too  !  " 

"'And  I  too  am  you  as  well  as  myself," 
repeated  Manna.  "  Now  I  must  go  to  my 
mother,"  she  said,  raising  herself  up;  "no 
one  is  to  know  about  us,  neither  your 
mother  nor  mine,  no  one." 

"  Shall  I  see  you  this  evening  in  the  gar- 
den ?  " 

"  No,  it  will  be  better  not  to  see  each 
other  until  to-morrow  ;  I  cannot  —  I  must 
first  compose  myself.  Ah,  I  deny  myself. 
Early  to-morrow  morning." 

She  now  untied  a  blue  silk  scarf  that  she 
wore  around  her  neck,  and  placed  it  about 
his. 

Another  kiss,  and  still  another,  and  they 
parted. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
REJOICE  IN  YOUR  LIFE. 

Eric  sat  a  long  time  on  the  bench ;  night 
came  on,  a'nd  he  saw  a  light  in  his  mother's 
house.  He  knew  that  she  and  his  aunt  were 
together,  and  he  fancied  that  he  heard  the 
tones  of  a  harp,  but  yet  it  was  too  far  off 
for  the  sound  to  reach  him.  But  the  tones 
resounded  within  him,  and  the  .  question 
darted  through  his  mind  :  How  will  Manna 


bear  it  when  she  learns  tjie  terrible  secret  ? 
And  canst  thou  share  in  possessions  so 
acquired  ?  How  Sonnenkamp  will  rave  ! 
What  will  Pranken  do  ?  The  world  will  say, 
it  was  nicely  contrived ;  while  the  father 
and  the  betrothed  were  absent,  he  has  with 
his  mother's  help  stolen  away  the  daughter 
of  the  house.  Let  the  world  come  on! 
Love  conquers  everything  ! 

He  saw  a  light  in  Manna's  room,  and 
heard  the  window  shut ;  he  looked  for  a 
long  time  up  to  it,  and  then  went  to  the 
courtyard  and  ordered  the  groom  to  saddle 
a  horse. 

The  groom  said  there  was  none  there  ex- 
cept Herr  Sonnenkamp's  black  steed. 
"  Saddle  him  then." 

"  I  dare  not  do  it.  My  master  allows  no 
one  to  ride  him." 

"  Do  as  I  order  you." 

The  horse  was  led  out ;  he  opened  his 
large  eyes  on  Eric,  distended  his  nostrils, 
and  tossed  back  his  mane  as  he  neighed. 

"  That's  well !  "  exclaimed  Eric. 

He  mounted  and  rode  off  at  a  tearing  trot. 
He  felt  perfectly  safe  on  the  horse,  who 
seemed  to  take  delight  in  his  free  rider. 

Where  will  he  go  ?  Far  away  —  away 
to  the  world's  end.  He  felt  buoyant,  as  if 
the  weight  of  the  body  were  removed,  and 
he  could  fly  away  into  the  wide,  wide  world. 

He  rode  now  down  the  mountain  to  the 
village  where  Claus  lived.  All  that  he  had 
experienced  on  this  road,  and  all  that  he 
had  thought,  thronged  in  upon  his  mind  at 
once,  and  he  even  looked  to  see  if  Roland 
were  riding  by  his  side. 

Roland  !  How  strange  !  It  struck  him 
as  an  immeasurably  long  time  since  Roland 
had  left  him ;  it  was  the  recollection  of  a 
far-off  event,  that  he  once  had  instructed  a 
youth  on  the  verge  of  manhood. 

He  gazed  at  the  fields,  at  the  vineyards, 
as  if  he  must  ask  them  :  How  is  it,  how  will 
it  be  when  I  call  you  mine  —  a  bit  of  the 
world  my  own !  Trees,  meadows,  vine- 
hills,  fields  and  vineyards  xlanced  before  his 
eyes. 

He  rode  into  the  village. 

Here  all  was  quiet.  He  drew  up  at  the 
fieldguard's  house,  he  knew  not  for  what 
reason.  The  blackbird  was  singing  alone 
in  the  still  night,  '  Rejoice  in  your  life/ 
She  got  no  farther  on  in  the  tune,  and  this 
melody,  so  old  and  yet  so  good,  now  accom- 
panied Eric,  and  chimed  in  with  the  hoof- 
beats  of  his  swift  steed. 

From  the  village  he  made  a  bend,  and 
rode  up  the  height  where  he  had  formerly 
sat  with  Knopf.  He  had  asked  Knopf: 
What  would  you  do  if  you  should  come  into 
the  possession  of  millions  ?    And  now  it 


412 


THE  COUNTRY -HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


seemed  to  him  that.a  hundred-pound  weight 
lay  upon  his  shoulders.  He  ealled  out  into 
the  night : — 

44  No,  I  shall  not  become  the  possessor  of 
millions,  no,  never  !  " 

Now  Weidmann's  plans  rushed  into  his 
mind.  Above,  on  the  height  yonder,  hun- 
dreds of  men  were  living  on  their  own  acres, 
which  once  they  had  never  thought  of  own- 
ing, free  and  happy  in  the  independence  se- 
cured through  that  man. 

The  horse  looked  round  at  his  rider,  as 
he  exclaimed  aloud  :  — 

"That  would  be  the  thing?  But  on 
property  so  obtained  ?    No  !  " 

Quietly  he  rode  down  the  mountain,  and 
came  in  sight  of  the  villa,  and  the  glass  of 
the  hot-houses,  but  he  turned  his  horse's 
head  again.  Yes,  he  must  tell  one  man, 
one  only.  He  rode  to  the  Major's.  Like 
a  wanderer  who  sees  a  distant  gleam  of 
light,  he  was  glad  at  heart  when  he  saw  the 
light  twinkling  in  the  modest  house. 

The  Major,  who  had  heard  the  clattering 
of  hoofs  —  and  he  knew  the  black  horse's 
trot  —  called  out  of  the  window  :  — 

"Herr  Baron  von  Lichtenburg,  are  you 
here  so  soon  ?  11 

"Up  to  this  time  my  name  has  been 
Eric  Dournay,"  replied  the  horseman.  He 
dismounted,  tied  the  horse  to  the  garden- 
fence,  entered  the  house,  and  was  wel- 
comed cordiallv  by  both  of  the  inmates. 

"  What's  to  'pay  ?  Is  all  well?"  asked 
the  Major. 

Eric  relieved  the  anxiety  of  the  Major, 
who  kept  saying  :  — 

"Just  see,  Fräulein  Milch, — don't  be 
afraid  to  put  on  your  spectacles,  — just  see  ! 
our  Herr  Eric  looks  like  another  being. 
You're  in  a  fever  ;  how  red  your  lips  are  !  " 

Eric  could  not  reply ;  he  could  not  say 
that  they  were  still  burning  with  kisses. 

The  Major  went  to  a  cupboard,  and  mix- 
ing a  powder  in  half  a  glass  of  water,  re- 
turned to  Eric.  Putting  his  hand  on  Eric's 
forehead  he  said,  — 

"  You  had  better  take  something."  He 
then  shook  into  it  another  powder,  so  that 
it  effervesced,  and  Eric  had  to  drink  the 
hissing  draught,  without  another  word.  The 
Major  made  the  sage  remark  that  there  was 
nothing  in  the  world  so  good  for  all  sorts 
of  excitement  as  a  Rochelle  powder. 

Fräulein  Milch,  who  saw  very  plainly 
that  Eric  had  something  to  communicate, 
was  about  to  leave  the  room,  but  he  called 
out,  — 

"You  are  to  hear  it  too,  you  and  my 
friend  here.  I  entrust  it  to  your  true 
hearts.    I  am  betrothed." 

"  To  Manna  ?  "  said  Fräulein  Milch. 


Eric  looked  amazed,  and  the  Major 
cried  :  — 

"  God  be  thanked  that  she  lives  in  our 
days ;  in  the  past  dark  ages  they  would 
have  burnt  her  for  a  witch.  She  knows 
everything,  and  sees  into  the  future  ;  nobody 
could  ever  believe  it.  But  here  you  have 
it.  As  we  were  sitting  together,  she  said : 
This  very  evening  Eric  and  Manna  have 
been  betrothed.  And  when  I  laughed,  she 
said:  Don't  laugh,  I'll  go  for  a  bottle  of 
wine.  Look,  comrade,  there  it  stands ; 
and  she  said :  They  will  come  here  this 
very  evening  together.  Well,  she  isn't  yet 
an  infallible  prophetess,  for  you've  come 
alone,  comrade.-  Come  here,  let  me  kiss 
you,  my  heart's  brother." 

He  gave  him  a  hearty  kiss,  and  went 
on  :  — 

"You  have  no  father,  and  I, — I'll  go 
with  you  to  the  altar  when  you're  married. 
Give  me  your  hand.  And  people  say, 
there  are  no  miracles  in  these  days  !  Every 
single  day  there's  a  miracle  wrought,  just 
exactly  as  much  as  in  the  good  old  times  ; 
only  we  l%now  how  to  explain  it  to-day,  and 
in  old  times  they  didn't  understand  it." 

Fräulein  Milch  had  uncorked  the  bottle 
and  filled  the  glasses. 

"  Drink  with  me,  my  son  !  "  cried  the 
Major.    "Drink!  real  Johannisberg." 

They  touched  glasses,  and  the  Major, 
emptying  his,  kissed  Eric  again,  and  then 
said,  — 

"  Whew  !  You've  learned  to  kiss.  Give 
one  to  Fräulein  Milch,  too,  —  you've  my 
permission.  Fräulein  Milch,  no  flinching  ! 
Come  here  —  there — give  her  a  kiss. 
She's  a  friend,  — you've  not  a  better  in  the 
world  except  your  mother,  —  and  you'll  find 
out  she's  more  than  the  whole  world  knows  ; 
you  deserve  to." 

"  I  beg,  Herr  Major,"  Fräulein  Milch 
interrupted  with  trepidation. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  Major,  in  a  sooth- 
ing tone,  "  I'll  say  nothing  more.  But  now 
a  kiss." 

Eric  and  Fräulein  Milch  kissed  each 
other,  the  Fräulein's  face  turning  red  as 
fire. 

They  now  engaged  in  a  friendly  talk 
together,  the  Major  taking  special  delight 
that  Pranken  would  not  get  the  magnificent 
girl  and  her  millions ;  but  his  chief  satis- 
faction arose  from  the  convent's  being  cir- 
cumvented. 

As  Eric  returned  home,  late  at  night,  he 
heard  the  blackbird  still  singing :  Rejoice 
in  your  life ! 

There  was  no  light  in  Manna's  chamber, 
but  Manna  was  standing  at  the  window. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


413 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
THE  SERPENT  IN  EDEN. 

As  Manna  stood  at  the  window,  looking 
out  into  the  darkness,  she  laid  her  burning 
hands  upon  the  window-sill,  uttering  brief 
exclamations  to  herself  of  hope  and  desola- 
tion, of  rejoicing  and  complaint.  Only  the 
stars  saw  her  face  with  its  changing  expres- 
sion of  rapture  and  of  agony,  and  her  kisses 
were  given  to  the  empty  air.  She  looked  up 
to  the  well-known  stars,  and  all  their  glit- 
tering host  seemed  but  the  reflection  of 
Eric's  beaming  eyes. 

"  Why  am  I  alone?  Why  should  I  ever 
be  alone  again  for  an  instant  ?  "  she  asked 
of  the  night. 

A  feeling  of  utter  loneliness  came  over 
her.  She  thought  of  the  nun  whom  she 
had  seen  the  day  before  at  the  station,  who 
looked  neither  to  the  right  or  to  the  left, 
going  from  convent  to  convent,  and  from 
one  sick-bed  to  another,  and  who  wanted 
nothing  that  the  world  could  give.  How 
would  it  be  if  a  voice  should  now  say  to 
her :  Thou  art  mine ;  turn  thy.  gaze,  put 
off  that  disfiguring  disguise  ;  look  around  ; 
let  others  look  at  thee  and  greet  thee  with 
smiles  ;  hope,  despair,  be  joyous,  bs  sad, 
be  not  forgetful  of  all  else  in  subjection 
to  one  fond,  painful  idea  ! 

It  seemed  to  Manna  as  if  she  were  stand- 
ing upon  the  verge  of  a  dizzy  precipice, 
now  about  to  be  dashed  over  it,  and  now 
drawn  back ;  she  looked  round,  for  she  felt 
as  if  Eric's  arm  were  actually  about  her, 
and  lifting  her  up  into  the  world.  Into  the 
world  !  What  a  world !  She  passed  her. 
hand  over  her  face,  and  the  hand  seemed 
no  longer  to  be  hers.  Turning  back  into 
the  room,  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees. 

"  Woe  is  me  !  I  love  ! 11  she  cried.  "  No  ; 
I  thank  thee,  O  God,  that  thou  hast  laid 
this  trial  upon  me.  This  trial  ?  no,  I  can- 
not help  it !  Thou,  Thou  who  art  Love  it- 
self, whom  a  thousand  lips  name,  and  whom 
yet  none  can  comprehend,  forgive  and  help 
me,  help  him,  and  help  us  all !  May  I  live 
in  him  and  in  all  that  is  holy  and  great,  all 
that  is  beautiful  and  pure !  Here  I  lie, 
slay  me  —  slay  me,  if  it  is  a  sin  !  Heim- 
chen, thou,  my  sister,  a  part  of  my  own 
soul,  thou  didst  flutter  a  moment  in  the  air, 
like  a  blossom  fallen  from  the  tree.  I,  I 
must,  amidst  storm  and  tempest,  remain 
upon  the  tree  of  life.  O,  let  the  fruit  of 
good  deeds  ripen  in  me,  O  Thou  to  whom 
I  pray,  and  -whom  he  reveres,  though  he 
prays  not,  he  whose  thought  is  prayer, 
whose  action  is  prayer,  and  whose  whole 
life  is  prayer." 

She  rose  up  and  stood  again  afrthe  win- 


dow, gazing  long,  in  a  reverie,  up  at  the 
starry  sky.  Out  into  the  night  flew  some- 
thing from  Manna's  window  and  was  caught 
in  the  branches  of  a  tree  ;  it  was  the  girdle 
which  she  had  taken  off. 

As  Eric  was  sitting  alone  in  his  room,  he 
heard  a  gentle  rustling,  and  was  startled  as 
if  he  had  seen  a  ghost.  What  is  that  ?  He 
opened  the  door,  and  Manna  stood  before 
him.  They  silently  embraced,  and  Manna 
said :  — 

*'  1  come  to  you  ;  I  am  always  with  you  in 
my  thoughts,  — in  everything.  Oh,  Eric  !  I 
am  so  happy,  and  so  miserably  wretched. 
My  father  —  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  I  kuow  everything." 

**  You  know,  and  still  love  me  ?  " 

She  kneeled  down  and  embraced  his  feet. 
He  raised  her,  and  seating  himself  by  her 
side,  they  talked  together  of  the  dreadful 
secret. 

"Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  how  you  have 
borne  it  ?  " 

"Ask  rather,  how  Roland  will  bear  it  !  " 

"Do  you  think  he  will  hear  of  it?" 

"  Certainly,  who  knows  how  soon  the 
world  " 

"  The  world !  the  world  ! "  exclaimed  Man- 
na. "No,  no ;  the  world  is  good,  the  world 
is  beautiful.  Oh,  thanks  to  the  Unsearch- 
able for  giving  to  me  my  Eric,  my  world, 
my  whole  world  !  " 

Calmly,  clearly,  and  with  wonderful  in- 
sight, Manna  apprehended  everything  ;  but 
in  the  very  midst  of  the  recital,  she  suddenly 
threw  herself  upon  Eric's  breast,  and  sobbed 
forth  :— 

"  Oh  !  why  must  I  have  this  knowledge  so 
young,  so  early  ;  why  must  I  experience  and 
overcome  all  this  ?  " 

After  Eric  had  calmed  and  soothed  her, 
she  went  away. 

An  eye  had  watched,  an  eye  had  seen. 
But  they  knew  not  that  an  eye  had  watched 
and  an  eye  had  seen. 

In  an  eye  had  the  morning,  on  awaken- 
ing, Manna  cried,  "lam  beloved  !  his  be- 
loved !  Is  he  awake  yet,  I  wonder  ?  " 

She  opened  the  window.  A  young  star- 
ling, that  was  now,  even  in  the  autumn,  build- 
ing its  nest,  found  the  thin  hempen  cord  on 
the  tree  before  Manna's  window,  snapped  it 
up  in  its  bill,  and  flew  away  to  weave  it  into 
the  nest.  Eric  was  below  in  the  garden,  and 
Manna  called  to  him  : — 

"  I'll  be  down  immediately."  And  in  the 
early  dawn  they  embraced  and  kissed  each 
other,  and  spoke  words  of  encouragement 
to  one  another,  needed  for  what .  must  be 
borne  to-day,  for  to-day  her  father  and 
Pranken  were  expected  to  return. 

They  went  towards  the  green  cottage 


414 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


hand  in  hand,  sat  down  where  they  had  sat 
with  the  Mother  on  the  previous  day,  and 
waited  for  her  waking.  In  the  midst  of  all 
the  joy  and  all  the  suffering  of  a  secret  love, 
encompassed  by  perils,  they  wanted  to  learn 
what  had  taken  place  at  the  capital.  They 
could  not  anticipate  what  had  really  oc- 
curred. 

Eric  let  Manna  return  alone.  He  told 
her  that  he  had  been  at  the  Major's  the 
evening  before,  and  he  wanted  to  go  again, 
in  order  to  reqiiest  him  and  Fräulein  Milch 
to  keep  the  matter  a  profound  secret. 

As  Eric  was  going  along  the  road,  a  car- 
riage came  up ;  his  name  was  called,  and 
Bella  got  out. 

"I  am  rejoiced  to  meet  you  alone.  Do 
you  know  that  we  never  see  each"  other 
alone  in  these  days  ?  But  to-day  I  shall  not 
be  with  you.  Clodwig  sends  his  greeting, 
and  an  earnest  request  that  you  will  visit 
him  at  Wolfsgarten.  He  is  lonely  ,and  you 
are  lonely,  and  it  will  be  pleasant  for  you  to 
pass  with  him  these  first  days  of  separation, 
and  to  stay  with  us  until  you  have  got  some- 
what reconciled  to  the  absence  of  your  dear 
pupil.  Clodwig  has  grand  projects  in  your 
behalf.  You  can  go  back  at  once  in  our 
carriage  to  Wolfsgarten,  and  I  shall  be  here 
with  my  sister-in-law  until  matters  are  ar- 
ranged.   Where  is  the  dear  child  ?  " 

Eric  escorted  Bella  to  the  villa,  but  he 
could  not  utter  a  word.  Fortunately,  Frau- 
lein Perini  came  up,  and  he  could  hand 
Bella  over  to  her.  He  hastened  to  Manna 
and  informed  her  in  a  few  hasty  words  that 
Bella  had  arrived.  She  looked  up,  half 
roguishly,  half  pitifully,  and  asked: — 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  once  loved  her  ?  " 

"  Yes  and  no.    Are  you  jealous  ?  " 

"  No,  for  I  know  that  you  have  never 
loved,  never ;  you  can  never  have  loved  any 
one  but  me.  Come,  Eric,  let  us  now  go  up 
to  her,  hand  in  hand,  and  acknowledge  at 
once  what  we  are  to  each  other,  and  also 
betöre  the  world.  Let  us  have  no  single 
moment  of  deception  or  concealment.  I 
have  the  courage  to  confess  all,  and  I  am 
happy  to  have  it  to  confess.  Regard  to  the 
world  must  not  deprive  us  of  a  moment,  of 
one  single  moment,  in  which  we  can  see  each 
other,  freely  take  each  other's  hand,  and 
appear  before  the  world,  as  we  are  in  reality, 
one." 

Eric  had  great  difficulty  in  bringing  Man- 
na to  use  foresight  and  prudence  ;  he  desired 
her,  as  the  first  token  of  their  relation  as 
husband  and  wife,  to  conform  to  his  will. 
Mamia  wept,  and  said  peevishly  : — 
"  Very  well ;  I  will  obey  you,  but  I'll  see 
no  one." 


Eric  tried  every  means  to  induce  her  to 
see  Bella,  but  she  refused,  saying : — 

"  Can  you,  the  pure,  the  good,  allow  me 
to  be  so  debased  for  an  hour  ?  How  am  I 
to  endure  it,  how  am  I  to  conduct  myself, 
if  she  salutes  me  as  her  sister-in-law  ?  " 

Eric  told  her  that  Bella  wanted  him  to  go 
at  once  to  Wolfsgarten,  in  order  to  spend 
with  Clodwig  these  few  days  in  which  he 
was  unsettled.  And  when  he  pointed  out 
the  abnormal  position  of  a  dependant,  Man- 
na tenderly  stroked  his  face,  saying  : — 

"  You  good  man,  you  have  to  serve  ;  yes, 
I  know  now  what  this  is  for  you,  the  pure, 
lofty  soul,  whom  all  ought  to  serve.  Ah, 
how  much  have  you,  dear  heart,  been  ob- 
liged to  bear  !  But  it  is  well,  for  otherwise 
we  should  not  have  become  acquainted  with 
one  another.  Come,  I  shall  be  able  to  do 
it.    I  will  make  myself  do  it.'" 

She  went  to  receive  Bella,  and  she  had 
self-control  enough  to  do  it  in  an  unexcep- 
tionable manner. 

Eric  soon  went  away,  and  Bella  was 
amazed  to  see  the  glance  with  which  Man- 
na followed  him.  Manna  was  desperate, 
talking  much  and  in  an  unusually  lively  way, 
so  that  Bella  was  puzzled  afresh. 

The  Major  was  now  announced  ;  he  came 
to  congratulate  Manna,  and  he  did  it  in  his 
cordial  and  clumsy  way. 

"  Do  favor  us  with  congratulations  this 
evening,  Herr  Major,  after  my  brother  has 
returned.11 

Manna  turned  away. 

Bella  had  seen  enough ;  it  suddenly 
flashed  across  her :  She  loves  Eric.  But 
no,  that  cannot  be  !  She  offered  to  embrace 
and  kiss  Manna,  but  Manna  begged  her, 
with  tears,  to  leave  her  in  quiet  to-day. 

Bella  stood  up  erect  and  looked  at  Man- 
na ;  it  was  the  Medusa-look,  but  Manna 
bore  it  quietly!  Without  another  word 
Bella  strode  out  of  the  house,  and  left  the 
villa.  What  she  thought,  what  she  medi- 
tated, who  can  tell?  She  herself  did  not 
know,  and  no  one  at  the  villa  was  at  all 
anxious  about  it. 

After  Bella  had  gone,  the  Major  stepped 
up  to  Manna,  who  was  standing  motionless, 
and  said : — 

"You  have  done  bravely,  child  —  you've 
stood  fire  well  —  that's  good  !  You  shall 
have  a  backer  in  me,  and  in  Fraulein  Milch 
too ;  and  if  they  bother  you  here  in  the 
house,  you'll  come  to  us  ;  be  easy,  you're 
not  all  alone  in  the  world.  You'll  ask  her 
pardon,  you'll  find  out  —  don't  speak  — 
you've  a  backer  in  me  —  and  she  told  me  to 
come  here,  she'd  go  to  the  Professorin ;  she 
knows   where   there's  need.    I  only  wish 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


415 


when  you've  been  nine  and  forty  years  to- 
gether you  may  be  to  one  another  what  we 
are  —  you'll  know  —  you'll  have  your  eyes 
opened.  Yery  well !  Some  people  can 
hold  out  bravely,  she's  done  so.  Very  well 
—  I  haven't  blabbed  any  thing, —  have  I 
blabbed  ?" 

Manna  smiled  amidst  her  tears  at  the 
odd,  incomprehensible,  and  yet  affectionate 
speech  of  the  good  Major.  ■ 

Whilst  Manna  and  the  Major  were  stand- 
ing together,  Bella  went  through  the  park. 

Hate,  deadly  hate  was  excited  within  her, 
and  her  eye  seemed  to  be  seeking  something 
on  which  to  vent  her  rage.  What  can  I  de- 
stroy here  ?  what  can  I  do  to  make  people 
angry  ?  Here  are  pyramids  of  flowers  — 
if  I  should  throw  them  all  in  a  heap,  if  I 
should  nip  off  the  choice  plants  ?  —  that 
would  be  childish  !  She  looked  round  for 
something  in  vain. 

She  had  forced  herself  to  appear  friendly, 
but  the  constraint  was  evident.  She  espec- 
ially hated  Eric  and  his  mother ;  there  was 
a  different  tone  all  through  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  it ; 
these  people  had  given  it.  WTho  are  they  ? 
sermonizing  pedagogues,  —  nothing  but 
eternal  second-hand  traders  in  sublime 
thoughts !  And  she,  Bella,  the  brilliant, 
the  admired,  who  could  once  confer  happi- 
ness by  a  single  word,  she  stood  in  the 
background  !  But  they  must  be  off,  these 
parasites,  and  they  should  be  made  to  feel 
who  they  are,  and  they  should  know  who 
has  found  them  out,  who  has  demolished 
them ! 

She  thought  about  Eric,  about  the  Moth- 
er, about  the  Aunt,  as  if  looking  every- 
where for  some  hook  by  which  to  grapple 
them  and  dash  them  to  pieces. 

She  went  restlessly  to  and  fro  several 
times  between  the  villa  and  the  green  cot- 
tage, and  at  last  went  into  the  Professorin's. 
Here  she  inet  Fräulein  Milch. 

Stop  !  this  is  just  the  person  !  she  shall 
be  the  hammer  to  hit  tile  others. 

When  Bella  entered,  Fraulein  Milch  got 
up,  bowed  very  politely,  and  was  about  to 
g°-  ^ 

"  Do  remain,"  urged  the  Professorin. 
"You  are  already  acquainted  with  the 
Countess  Wolfsgarten  ?  " 

"  I  have  the  honor." 

Bella  looked  at  the  modest  person  whom 
she  was  desiring  to  demolish,  and  then 
said : — 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  recollect.  The  Major's 
housekeeper,  if  I  do  not  mistake  ?  " 

"  Fräulein  Milch  is  my  friend,"  inter- 
posed the  Professorin. 


"Your  friend?  I  was  not  aware  of  that. 
You  are  very  kind." 

"  Fräulein  Milch  is  my  friend,  and  is  my 
noble  assistant  in  the" work  of  charity." 

"  Ah,  yes,  you  peddle  out  the  money  of 
Herr  Sonnenkamp." 

It  was  uncertain  whether  this  was  ad- 
dressed to  both  the  ladies  present,  or  sole- 
ly to  Fräulein  Milch. 

Bella  saw  how  the  Professorin's  face  quiv- 
ered, and  she  felt  greatly  encouraged. 
Now  she  had  found  out  the  point  to  begin 
at.  This  Professorin  had  inflicted  a  wound 
upon  her  by  means  of  her  son  —  no,  not 
that,  but  she  had  wounded  her  personally, 
she  had  assumed  a  first  part  that  did  not  be- 
long to  her. 

And  Bella  continued  : — 

"This  wasteful  expenditure  on  the  aban- 
doned, on  notorious  tipplers,  will  shortly 
cease." 

The  Professorin  now  requested  Fräulein 
Milch  to  leave  her ;  she  had  never  kissed 
her  yet,  but  to-day  she  embraced  her  affec- 
tionately and  gave  her  a  kiss.  She  wanted 
to  calm  her  wounded  feelings,  to  make  her 
some  amends,  and  show  the  countess  how 
highly  she  esteemed  the  person  she  had  so 
rudely  attacked,  who  appeared  so  defence- 
less, or  who  did  not  choose  to  defend  her- 
self. After  Fräulein  Milch  had  gone,  Bella 
said, — 

"I  cannot  conceive  how  you  can  be  so 
intimate  with  this  person  ;  you  dishonor 
thereby  all  who  stand  in  relations  of  friend- 
ship with  you." 

"  I  think  that  any  one  whom  I  esteem, 
and  whom  I  unite  to  myself  in  friendship, 
is  placed  by  this  fact  in  a  position  of  re- 
spect, and  I  have  a  right  to  expect  that 
every  one  will  show  it." 

"Of  course,  of  course,  so  long  as  you 
are  here.  But  if  you  leave  the  vicinity 
before  long  " 

"  Leave  the  vicinity?" 

"  The  work  here  is  now  accomplished* 
and  —  " 

The  Professorin  had  to  sit  down.  Bella's 
eyes  flashed ;  she  had  attained  what  she 
wished  ;  she  had  torn  off  all  the  tinsel  from 
these  people,  who  were  forever  making  a 
parade  of  spirituality,  and  decking  them- 
selves out  with  sublime  ideas,  and  now  here 
they  were  naked  and  helpless. 

In  a  very  courteous  tone  she  said,  — 

"Oh,  I  assure  you,  I  should  be  very 
sorry  to  anticipate  Herr  Sonnenkamp's 
dismissal." 

The  calm  bearing  which  the  Professorin 
had  been  accustomed  to  maintain  in  all  ex- 
tremities, now  failed  her  for  the  first  time. 


416 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


She  had  had  an  extensive  observation  of 
life,  but  never  had  she  seen  this,  had  never 
regarded  it  as  even  possible  that  there 
should  be  such  a  thing  as  pure  malice, 
which  has  no  other  motive  than  to  be 
malicious,  and  derives  its  joy  from  the 
suffering  of  others.  In  the  feeling  that 
this  additional  experience  must  now  be 
hers,  and  in  the  endeavour  to  settle  this  in 
her  thought  and  give  it  lodgment  as  an 
actual  and  accepted  truth,  she  lost  all  abil- 
ity to  make  any  resistance. 

'She  cast  up  a  glance  at  Bella  that  ought 
to  have  overcome  her,  but  Bella  was  re- 


solved not  to  give  way  a  single  hair's 
breadth ;  she  must  have  something  to  rend 
in  pieces,  and  as  Eric  could  not  be  got  at, 
his  mother  must  answer  instead.  She  con- 
tinued talking  for  a  long  time,  using  very 
polite  phrases,  but  the  Professorin  hardly 
listened,  and  scarcely  noticed  when  she  took 
her  leave. 

Bella  rushed  triumphantly  back  to  the 
•villa  across  the  meadow-path,  got  into  the 
carriage,  which  was  standing  ready  in  the 
yard,-  and  returned  to  Wolfsgarten. 

Her  passion  for  destruction  was  sated, 
and  she  felt  relieved,  and  in  good  spirits. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


417 


BOOK  XII.  —  CHAPTER  I. 
THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  EXECUTION. 

On  the  journey  to  the  capital,  Sonnen" 
karap  and  Pranken  were  astonished  at 
Roland's  fluency  and  mental  activity ;  he 
was  the  only  one  who  expressed  himself 
freely,  for  both  Sonnenkamp  and  Pranken 
could  not  entirely  repress  a  feeling  of 
anxiety.  They  appeared  to  be  so  confi- 
dential and  open  with  each  other,  and  yet 
Sonnenkamp  was  continually  asking  him- 
self: Do  you  know  it?  and  Pranken,  on 
the  other  hand :  Do  you  know  that  I  know 
it? 

But  neither  of  them  spoke  out.  How 
were  they  to  do  it  ?  Pranken  wanted,  when 
the  revelation  took  place,  to  appear  as  the 
innocent,  the  ignorant,  the  deluded  in- 
dividual ;  he  had  been  imposed  upon,  he  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  more  than 
all,  the  Prince  himself.  The  Prince  had 
conferred  the  title  of  nobility  —  how  was 
Pranken  to  do  otherwise  than  confide  in 
the  man  ! 

Sonnenkamp  on  the  contrary  was  undeci- 
ded, and  he  was  glad  that  Pranken  was  de- 
termining everything ;  it  was  no  longer  a 
question  of  will,  all  was  settled  and  must 
proceed. 

He  looked  through  the  coach-door  every 
now  and  then,  and  put  out  his  hand,  as  if 
he  were  going  to  lay  hold  of  the  handle, 
spring  out  and  flee.  What  a  bold  game  it 
was  he  was  trying  his  hand  at !  He  was 
angry  with  himself  that,  close  upon  the  last 
critical  moment,  he  allowed  a  feeling  of 
apprehension  to  come  over  him.  He  could 
not  help  declaring  to  Pranken  that  he  felt 
very  much  excited.  Pranken  thought  this 
quite  natural,  for  elevation  to  the  nobility 
is  no  small  affair.  And  now,  in  the  conver- 
sation that  took  place,  Sonnenkamp  dis- 
covered the  cause  of  his  timidity.  Those 
Huguenots,  mother,  aunt,  and  son,  with  their 
double-distilled  transcendental  notions,  had 
brought  around  him  an  element  of  weak- 
ness ;  it  would  be  as  well  to  throw  them  aside, 
politely,  of  course,  but  they  must  go  their 
way,  like  instruments  that  have  done  their 
work,  like  paid-off  workmen. 

In  this  thought,  of  casting  something  from 
him,  there  was  a  sense  of  power  which  re- 
stored him  to  himself  once  more. 

It  was  not  merely  allowing  others  to  act 
for  him,  he  was  an  active  agent  himself;  he 
let  the  puppets  dance,  for  all  men  are 
puppets  to  him  who  knows  how  to  govern 
them.  He  looked  smilingly  over  at  Pran- 
ken ;  this  man,  too,  was  his  puppet  now. 
He  began  to  whistle  merrily  but  inaudibly. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  they 


reached  the  capital.  Roland  went  to  bed 
directly.  Pranken  took  his  leave,  saying 
that  he  had  to  make  a  necessary  call. 

"  Don't  forget  that  you  are  a  bride- 
groom," Sonnenkamp  cried  out  after  him 
with  a  laugh. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  was  Pranken 
troubled  by  such  a  jest ;  it  hurt  him  be- 
cause it  came  from  Manna's  father,  and 
because  he  was  really  going  on  an  errand 
very  serious  and  moral  in  its  nature  and 
object ;  he  was  going  to  the  house  of  the 
Dean  of  the  cathedral. 

The  house  was  in  the  garden  behind  the 
cathedral,  hidden  from  the  whole  world, 
and  amidst  a  quiet  that  was  never  broken 
by  the  bustle  of  the  capital. 

Pranken  rang,  a  servant  opened  the 
door,  and  Pranken  was  not  a  little  as- 
tonished at  hearing  himself  instantly  called 
by  name.  The  servant  was  the  soldier 
whom  he  had  employed  for  some  little  time 
as  an  attendant.  He  received  Pranken's 
commission  to  inform  him  personally  the 
next  morning,  at  the  Victoria  Hotel,  whether 
the  Dean  could  receive  him  alone  at  eleven 
o'clock. 

Pranken  turned  away,  and  he  smiled, 
when,  still  thinking  of  his  father-in-law's 
admonition,  he  stopped  before  a  certain 
house.  He  knew  it  well,  the  pretty,  quiet 
house  that  he  himself  had  once  furnished, 
the  carpeted  stairs,  the  banisters  with 
their  stuffed  velvet,  and  everything  so  cosy, 
the  bell  up-stairs  with  its  single  note,  the 
cool  ante-chamber  full  of  green  plants,  the 
parlor  so  cheerful,  the  carpets,  and  the 
furniture  of  the  same  pattern  of  silk  through- 
out, a  green  ground  and  yellow  garland. 
Pranken  liked  the  national  colors  even 
here.  In  the  corner  stands  an  alabaster 
angel  holding  in  its  hand  a  fresh  bunch  of 
flowers  every  day.  Many  a  time  too,  the 
angel  has  to  bear  a  woman's  jaunty  hat,  and 
many  a  time  too  a  man's  hat.  And  then 
the  door-curtains.  Who  is  laughing  be- 
hind them?    No,  he  passes  on. 

He  stopped  at  a  shop  window  with  large 
panes  of  glass  ;  when  uoing  to  that  cosy 
little  house,  he  had  always  brought  with 
him  from  this  shop  some  trifle,  some  comical 
little  thing  —  there  are  many  new  things  of 
that  kind  in  it  now;  he  enters  and  pur- 
chases the  very  latest. 

The  young  salesman  looks  at  him  inquir- 
ingly, Pranken  nods  and  says  :  — 

"You  can  show  me  everythifig." 

And  then  the  hidden  treasures  of  the  es- 
tablishment are  shown  to  him  ;  he  does  not 
.take  anything,  however,  but  says,  that  he 
will  nfake  a  purchase  some  other  time,  and 
goes  off  with  his  trifle. 


418 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


No,  it  is  only  for  a  jest,  for  a  farewell. 
He  wishes  simply  to  ask  little  Nelly  what 
people  are  saying  of  him  ;  he  is  vexed  at  his 
being  troubled  about  the  matter,  and  still  he 
is  tempted  to  make  the  inquiry. 

He  is  not  aware  that  he  has  rung — he  goes 
up-stairs — be  feels  for  the  key  in  his  poeket 
— he  has  quite  forgotten  that  he  hasn't  one 
any  more. 

The  door  is  opened,  the  maid  looks  at 
him  with  astonishment.  Nobody  is  in.  A 
lamp  of  pale  red  glass  is  burning  in  the  bal- 
cony room ;  the  little  alabaster  statue  is 
smiling;  Pranken  has  another  lamp  brought 
to  him  ;  he  will  wait.  He  looks  through  the 
rooms,  he  recognizes  the  chairs,  the  sofas, 
everything  is  still  as  he  had  arranged  it. 

A  perfume  strange  to  him  pervades  the 
room ;  it  must  be  the  fashion  now, — one  al- 
ways falls  a  little  behind  the  times  in  the 
country. 

The  clock  of  the  cathedral  strikes,  the 
theatre  performances  must  be  over.  On  the 
table  lie  photograph  albums  ;  Pranken  looks 
through  them,#  he  searches  for  his  own 
picture ;  it  is  no  longer  there,  but  there  are 
other  faces  that  he  does  not  know.  He 
shuts  the  albums. 

There  is  a  book  lying  on  the  table,  too  ; 
flowers  culled  from  the  German  poets  "  for 
women  by  a  woman's  hand."  Pranken  be- 
gins to  read  it.  They  are  strange  beings, 
these  poets  !  He  stands  up  by  the  fire- 
place, glowing  coals  are  sparkling  in  it ;  but 
really  there  was  no-fire-place,  and  no  glowing 
coals  ;  for  they  never  burned,  but  were  al- 
ways piled  up  in  that  way ;  fire-place  and 
coals  were  only  an  elegant  ornament  of 
the  room. 

The  cathedral  clock  strikes  again  ;  still  no 
one  comes.  At  length  Pranken  takes  out 
his  card,  and  leaves  it  on  the  bouquet  which 
the  alabaster  statue  holds  in  its  hand ;  he 
leaves  the  place.  It  is  better  so.  You  have 
acted  bravely,  as  you  meant  to  do  —  of 
course. 

He  smiled  at  his  virtue. 

Pah  !  He  would  have  to  laugh  and  give 
a  little  play  to  his  exuberance  of  spirit  again 
one  of  these  days  ;  this  everlasting  morality 
begins  tobe  tiresome.    But  Manna  

All  at  once  Pranken  felt  a  pang  shoot 
through  his  heart,  as  if  he  had  inflicted  a 
wound  on  Manna. 

He  shook  his  head,  and  laughed  outright 
at  the'  childishness  into  which  he  had  fallen. 
And  still  he  could  not  shake  off  an  impres- 
sion, that  at  that  hour  something  was 
happening  to  Manna;  he  knew  not  what  it 
was,  but  the  feeling  possessed  him. 

He  went  on  hurriedly. 

The  military  club  house  was  still  brilliantly 


j  lighted,  but  Pranken  passed  it  by  too.  He 
,  turned  back  to  the  hotel.  With  great  satis- 
j  faction  he  retired  to  rest  without  having 
again  seen  Sonnenkamp.  He  wanted  to 
read  a  little  while  in  the  little  book  that  was 
quite  filled  with  a  piny  odor  from  the  twig 
which  lay  in  it ;  the  twig  was  bare,  but  the 
falling  leaves  were  preserved  like  a  relic. 
But  he  could  not  endure  the  words  of  the 
'book,  he  felt  a  certain  awe  of  it  to-night. 

While  Pranken  was  out  in  the  town, 
Sonnenkamp  grew  discontented  at  being 
alone.  He  wanted  to  be  with  new  people, 
live  men,  who  could  divert  his  thoughts. 
He  sent  for  the  Cabinetsrath. 

The  latter  came  soon,  and  Sonnenkamp 
sat  down  well  pleased  by  his  side,  and 
asked  what  it  meant  that  the  Prince  had  not 
sent  his  patent,  but  chose  to  give  it  to  him 
in  person. 

With  much  freedom  and  sarcasm,  the 
Cabinetsrath  ironically  expressed  his  ad- 
miration of  his  gracious  master,  and  des- 
cribed his  character.  He  said  that  no  one 
could  really  understand  a  ruler  who  wished 
to  rule  without  advice,  particularly  in,  the 
exercise  of  that  prerogative  which  had  been 
allowed  to  remain  in  his  hands  without  the 
interference  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  — 
the  conferring  of  orders  and  of  nobility.  Son- 
nenkamp heard  with  astonishment  how  the 
Prince  designated  everything  as  ' '  mine  "  ; 
my  manufacturers,  my  university,  my  free- 
mason lodge,  my  agriculturalists,  my  Cham- 
ber of  Deputies.  The  Prince  had  the  best  will 
in  the  world,  but  he  lived  in  continual  fear 
of  the  democrats,  communists  and  liberals, 
whom  he  classed  toget  her  ;  he  was  convinc- 
ed, that  every  one  who  did  not  coincide  with 
the  government  was  a  walking  barricade  from 
behind  which  shots  might  be  fired  at  any 
moment.  He  would  like  to  have  everything 
go  well  with  all  men,  and  he  had  a  very  line 
sentiment  which  a  chamberlain  had  once 
composed  for  him,  and  which  he  brought 
out  in  moments  of  elevated  feeling.  If  I 
knew  that  all  men  Avould  be  bettered  by  it, 
I  would  renounce  the  throne  and  do  away 
with  the  civil-list.  But  as  he  was  sure  that 
all  men  would  not  be  bettered  by  it,  he 
could  remain  as  he  was,  in  quiet  possession 
of  both.  He  had  two  hobbies,  the  theatre 
and  the  welfare  of  the  capital.  He  liked 
to  have  very  wealthy  people  attracted  to  the 
capital,  so  that  a  good  deal  of  money  might 
be  made  out  of  them.  And  he  had  done  a 
great  thing,  he  had  modified  essentially  the 
strict  rules  of  ceremony ;  strangers  who 
formerly  were,  without  exception,  debarred 
of  the  privilege  of  appearing  at  court,  had 
access  to  it  now,  if  they  only  spent  a  good 
deal  of  money  in  the  city  and  were  present- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


419 


ed  by  their  ambassadors.  The  Prince  does 
this  out  of  a  pure  desire  for  the  welfare  of 
his  people,  for  he  called  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  capital  "  my  people,"  even  the  un- 
yielding democrats  contained  in  it ;  they 
had  unpleasant  peculiarities,  it  is  true;  but 
they  were  still  "  my  people.'1 

The  Prince  took  a  special  interest  in 
Sonnenkamp,  because  he  had  been  told  that 
the  latter  was  intending  to  build  a  large 
palace  for  his  winter-residence  in  the  capital 
in  such  a  situation  that  it  would  be  an  orna- 
ment to  the  castle  park,  having  it  front  on 
an  avenue  which  at  present  led  into  a  new 
part  of  the  city.  The  Prince  flattered  him- 
self that  this  would  be  of  great  benefit  to 
his  people* 

The  Cabinetsrath  related,  besides,  that 
Sonnenkamp's  affair  had  taken  a  particular- 
ly decisive  turn  in  consequence  of  Clodwig's 
having,  in  the  expression  of  his  opinion, 
said  that,  aside  from  the  injudiciousness  of 
creating  a  new  nobility,  it  appeared  doubt- 
ful to  him  whether  German  sovereigns  indivi- 
dually possessed  the  right  to  do  it.  The 
Prince  was  beside  himself  at  this  remark  of 
the  old  diplomat,  whom  he  had  always  re- 
garded as  a  concealed  democrat ;  and  so, 
partly  in  consequence  of  Clodwig's  bold- 
ness, Sonnenkamp's  affair  was  decided 
hastily  and  without  further  ado. 

Sonnenkamp  heard  all  this  with  delight, 
and  the  Cabinetsrath  cautioned  him  express- 
ly to  remember  that  the  Prince  was  really 
very  modest,  and  not  merely  modest  in 
words  ;  he  liked  to  say  that  he  was  not  a  man 
of  genius,  and  it  was  very  hard  to  find  the 
best  bearing  to  use  towards  him.  The  Prince 
was  offended  by  the  flattery,  if  any  one 
praised  him  and  combated  his  opinion  of 
himself,  and  still  it  would  not  do  to  support 
him  in  his  modesty.  Sonnenkamp  was  ad- 
vised to  say  as  little  as  possible  ;  he  might 
exaggerate  the  apprehension  he  really  felt : 
timidity  would  rind  favor  with  their  gracious 
master,  who  was  always  secretly  pleased  at 
inspiring  awe. 

Sonnenkamp  was  quite  calm  once  more. 
When  the  Cabinetsrath  was  gone,  he 
rang,  and  ordered  the  newspaper.  He  read 
it  entirely  through,  even  the  advertisements  ; 
this  put  him  upon  another  course  of  thought. 
Again  and  again  he  read  the  official  news 
at  the  head  of  the  paper,  official  appoint- 
ments, military  promotions,  and  grants  of 
pardon ;  such  things  were  sprinkled  along 
through  the  whole  year  after  the  grand  dis- 
tribution of  orders  was  over.  He  was  al- 
ready thinking  to  himself  how  it  would  ap- 
pear in  that  part  of  the  paper  in  the  morning, 
that  His  Highness  had,  in  his  graciousness, 
seen  fit  to  elevate  Herr  James  Sonnenkamp 


1  and  his  family,  under  the  title  of  Baron  von 
j  Lichtenburg,  to  the  hereditary  dignity  of 
nobles.  And,  what  was  more,  the  news- 
paper of  Professor  Crutius  must  publish  it. 

Proud  and  erect,  he  strode  for  a  long  time 
up  and  down  the  chamber.  Then  he  recol- 
lected that  the  Cabinetsrath  had  informed 
him  that  the  Prince  liked  certain  ceremonies, 
and  that  he  would  have  to  make  oath  with 
his  bare  hand.  He  looked  at  his  hand. 
How  would  it  be  if  the  Prince  asked  about 
the  ring  on  his  thumb  ? 

"Your  Highness,  that  is  an  iron  ring 
that  I  have  worn  since  my  eighteenth  year," 
said  Sonnenkamp  suddenly,  as  if  he  were 
standing  in  the  presence  of  the  Prince. 

But  then  again,  he  asked  himself  why  he 
should  expose  himself  to  the  question.  It 
might  still  be  possible  to  take  the  ring  off; 
the  scar  could  no  longer  be  visible.  With 
burning  face  he  put  his  hand  in  water  until 
it  was  nearly  numb,  but  the  ring  did  not 
come  off.  He  rang  ;  Lootz  came,  and  he 
ordered  him  to  bring  ice.  He  held  his  hand 
on  the  ice,  the  ring  at  last  loosened  about 
the  thumb  ;  it  rubbed  hard  over  the  knuckle, 
but  at  last  came  off.  Sonnenkamp  examined 
the  scar  that  had  been  concealed  by  the  ring. 
Could  any  one  now  tell  that  it  had  been  left 
by  a  bite  ? 

He  was  enraged  with  himself  that  he  had 
awakened  this  remembrance  to-day.  Of 
what  use  was  it  ? 

He  rang  for  Lootz  ;  he  wanted  to  ask  him 
what  he  would  take  the  scar  on  his  thumb 
to  be.  But  when  Lootz  came  he  let  the  ques- 
tion go,  for  it  might  have  excited  curiosity  ; 
he  gave  the  steward  a  commission  for  the 
morrow,  and  finally  sought  rest  in  sleep. 
He  did  not  find  it  for  a  long  while ;  for  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  a  chilly  current  of  air 
were  continually  circulating  about  the  bare 
thumb.  When  he  doubled  up  his  fist  he 
felt  it  no  longer,  and  so  he  finally  went  to 
sleep  with  his  fist  clinched. 

CHAPTER  II. 
DRILLING  UNDER  FIRE. 

The  sparrows  were  twittering  with  one 
another  on  the  roof,  but  the  hack-drivers 
were  chattering  still  more  busily  before  the 
Hotel  Victoria,' when,  in  the  morning,  Son- 
nenkamp's  horses  and  double-seated  car- 
riage waited  before  the  porch  of  the  hotel. 

The  little  hump-backed  driver,  who  al- 
ways led  the  talk,  now  held  the  first  place, 
and  naturally  spoke  first.  He  informed  his 
companions  that  to-day  Sonnenkamp  was  to 
be  made  a  count,  yes,  perhaps  even  a 
prince,  for  he  had  more  money  than  a  prince. 
Unluckily,  the  first    hack  was  just  then 


420 


THE  .COUNTRY-IIOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


taken  by  a  stranger,  and  the  little  driver 
deeply  regretted  that  he  could  not  be  on 
band  when  Herr  Sonnenkamp  was  coining 
out.  He  recommended  the  others  to  give 
the  Count  a  cheer  when  he  was  getting  into 
the  carriage. 

But  it  was  a  long  while  before  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp came  down  out  of  the  hotel,  for 
he  was  walking  up  and  down  the  spacious 
hall,  clad  in  black,  with  white  cravat,  and 
with  the  order  on  his  breast.  The  Cabin- 
etsrath  was  walking  by  his  side ;  he  said 
that  he  could  well  understand  that  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  should  be  very  much  excited, 
but  that  he  would  be  only  so  much  the 
more  easy  in  mind  at  noon.  Sonnenkamp 
was  all  the  time  biting  his  lips,  and  more 
than  once  changed  color. 

"  You  are  well,  are  you  not?"  asked  the 
Cabinetsrath. 

Sonnenkamp  said  yes  ;  he  could  not  say 
that  that  bare  thumb  of  his  was  so  painful. 
When  he  was  not  looking  at  the  hand,  he 
had  a  sensation  as  if  the  thumb  were  swell- 
ing up  into  a  monstrous  size,  and  the  pulse- 
beats  in  it  felt  like  the  blows  of  a  red-hot 
hammer. 

He  examined  his  hand  frequently,  and 
felt  comforted  when  he  found  that,  he  was 
suffering  under  a  delusion. 

Lootz  came.  Sonnenkamp  took  him 
aside,  and  he  informed  him  that  Professor 
Crutius  regretted  that  he  was  unable  to  pay 
him  a  visit,  being  obliged  at  that  moment 
to  set  about  preparing  the  evening  edition. 

"  Did  you  bring  the  morning  edition  with 
you  ? :' 

"No,  it  will  not  be  issued  until  eleven 
o'clock.1' 

"  Why  didn't  you  wait  for  it?  it  is  nearly 
eleven  now." 

"  I  thought  that  you  might  want  some- 
thing else,  sir,  before  going  up  to  the  cast  le." 

"  Very  well,  give  me  my  overcoat." 

Joseph  was  standing  near  at  hand  all 
ready  with  it ;  Sonnenkamp  took  leave  of 
Roland  and  Pranken-,  who  were  going  to 
ride  out  with  some  companions  ;  he  request- 
ed them  to  be  back  at  the  hotel  at  twelve 
o'clock  precisely. 

For  the  last  time  the  commoner  Sonnen- 
kamp descended  those  steps,  to  ascend  them 
next  as  a  Baron.  The  Cabinetsrath  walked 
by  his  side. 

When  he  entered  the  carriage  below,  the 
hack-drivers,  as  they  had  been  recommend- 
ed, wanted  to  raise  a  cheer,  but  they  could 
not  bring  it  out :  it  was  of  no  use  to  try  with- 
out the  dwarf  who  knew  how  to  lead  off ; 
they  stood  all  together  in  a  knot  staring  at 
Sonnenkamp,  and  took  off  their  hats. 


Sonnenkamp  acknowledged  the  salutation 
most  graciously. 

The  Cabinetsrath  regretted  that  he  could 
not  go  with  him ;  he  simply  ordered  the 
coachman  to  stop  before  the  great  gate  of 
the  palace. 

Pranken  left  Roland  alone,  as  the  Ensign 
had  promised  to  call  for  the  latter  when  he 
got  back  from  the  drill  ground.  With  an 
unusually  quiet  tone  and  modest  manner, 
Pranken  bade  good  bye  until  they  met  again 
at  table,  for  Sonnenkamp  had  ordered  an 
elegant  little  lunch  for  four,  himself,  his  son 
and  son-in-law,  and  the  Cabinetsrath. 

Sonnenkamp  dashed  along  through  the 
streets  of  the  city  ;  the  people  on  foot  stood 
still.  Many  who  knew  him  saluted  him,  and 
many  too,  who  did  not  know  him ;  for  a 
foreign  prince  might  sit  in  such  a  carriage, 
and  deference  must  be  paid  to  a  foreign 
prince. 

The  horses  trotted  on  gaily,  as  if  they 
knew  to  what  honor  they  were  carrying 
their  master.  Sonnenkamp  lay  back  in  the 
carriage,  and  played  awhile  with  the  order 
upon  his  breast.  This  token  gave  him  an 
encouragement ;  for  why  was  he  apprehen- 
sive in  taking  the  second  step,  when  he  had 
felt  no  apprehension  in  taking  the  first,  and 
no  danger  had  yet  made  its  appearance  ? 

The  carriage  drov£  past  a  building  with 
many  windows.  Sonnenkamp  knew  it.  It 
was  the  editing  and  printing  establishment 
of  Professor  Crutius.  Knots  of  men  were 
standing  in  front  of  it,  some  of  them  read- 
ing a  copy  of  the  paper ;  they  looked  up 
and  nodded,  as  the  handsome  carriage 
passed  by.  Sonnenkamp  would  have  liked 
to  stop  to  get  a  paper ;  he  had  already 
grasped  the  check-string,  intending  to  give 
Bertram  the  signal  to  stop,  but  he  dropped 
it  again. 

Why  is  this  ?  Why  is  he  so  anxious  to 
get  the  newspaper  to-day?  Ah,  men  are 
better  off  in  the  desolate  wilderness,  where 
not  one  human  being  is  to  be  seen,  where 
there  are  no  newspapers  nor  anything  of  the 
kind.  So  Sonnenkamp  thought  to  himself, 
as  he  drove  through  the  lively  capital  to  the 
palace  of  the  Prince. 

A  jolt  suddenly  startled  him  ;  the  carriage 
was  stopped.  Around  the  corner,  a  battal- 
ion of  soldiers  was  approaching  with  loud 
music.  The  carriage  had  to  stop  until  the 
soldiers  had  all  passed  by,  and  it  required 
some  effort  to  keep  the  horses  in  check,  on 
account  of  the  noise. 

Now  they  were  all  past ;  Sonnenkamp 
looked  at  his  watch.  It  would  be  a  terrible 
thing  if,  at  the  very- outset,  he  should  have 
missed  the  appointed   minute,  and  have 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


421 


been  obliged  to  excuse  himself  to  the 
Prince.  Are  you  then  so  far  a  prisoner  ? 
Are  you  then  so  bound  to  the  very  minute  ? 

He  was  almost  ready  to  call  out  to  the 
coachman  to  turn  back ;  he  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  whole  affair. 

Again  he  was  angry  with  himself  at  being 
so  powerfully  excited  without  cause.  He 
let  down  the  carriage  window,  took  off  his 
hat,  and  was  delighted  to  feel  the  refresh- 
ment of  the  cool  breeze. 

Bertram  proudly  drew  up  the  carriage 
before  the  grand  portal.  Both  the  senti- 
nels stood  still ;  they  were  waiting  to  see 
whether  they  should  shoulder  or  present 
arms.  The  carriage  door  was  opened,  the 
sentinels  remained  motionless,  lor  only  a 
man  in  black  clothes,  with  a  single  order, 
stepped  out. 

Joseph  accompanied  Sonnenkamp  to  the 
large  high-studded  porch,  which  was  white 
and  richly  ornamented  with  stucco  work. 
At  the  foot  of  the  step  were  two  hand- 
somely chiselled  marble  wolves ;  they 
looked  at  Sonnenkamp  in  almost  a  friendly 
way ;  and  really,  everything  looked  as 
splendid  as  could  be  imagined.  Sonnen- 
kamp made  a  sign  to  Joseph  that  he  might 
give  something,  suitable  to  the  occasion  to 
the  lackeys  in  attendance  here ;  he  had 
provided  him  with  an  uncounted  handful 
of  gold  for-  the  purpose ;  he  could  trust 
Joseph. 

The  porter  in  grand  livery,  with  broad 
hat  and  gold-tipped  staff,  asked  whom  he 
should  announce. 

Sonnenkamp  and  Joseph  looked  at  each 
other  in  embarrassment.  Joseph  was  dis- 
creet enough  to  leave  the  answer  to  his 
master,  and  Sonnenkamp  did  not  know 
whether  he  ought  to  say  Baron  von  Lichten- 
burg  or  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 

Pooh,  what  did  it  signify  giving  the  old 
name  to  this  lackey  ?  This  name  appeared 
to  him  so  repugnant,  thrown  off  for  good 
like  a  worn-out  shoe ;  it  was  so  hard  to  un- 
derstand how  he  had  borne  it  so  long,  with- 
out being  ashamed  of  it  before  the  whole 
world.  Finally  Sonnenkamp  answered 
with  evident  condescension  :  — 

"I  have  been  ordered  to  wait  upon  His 
Highness." 

He  felt  badly  to  be  obliged  to  use  the 
word  "  ordered* 11  before  Joseph  —  he,  Son- 
nenkamp, had  been  "ordered"  —  but  he 
wished  to  show  the  footman  at  any  rate 
that  he  was  acquainted  with  court  phrase- 
ology. 

The  footman  pressed  a  telegraphic  bell ; 
a  valet  dressed  in  black  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  staircase,  and  said  that  the 
Herr  Baron  had  been  expected  for  two 


minutes,  and  must  make  all  the  haste  pos- 
sible. It  seemed  almost  as  if  an  avenging 
angel  from  heaven  were  announcing  here 
below  some  shortcoming  or  transgression. 

With  trembling  knees  Sonnenkamp  stum- 
bled up  the  carpeted  staircase ;  he  had  to 
draw  on  his  gloves  on  the  way  up,  saying 
silently  to  himself  meanwhile  :  — 

"  Keep  yourself  easy  now.11 

At  the  top  of  the  staircase  a  second 
valet  appeared,  white-haired,  in  short  black 
knee-breeches  and  high  black  gaiters,  and 
said :  — 

"Do  not  hurry,  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  His 
Highness  has  not  returned  yet  from  the 
drill  ground.1' 

Sonnenkamp  felt  like  knocking  the  first 
valet  down  for  having  put  him  into  such  a 
state  of  anxiety.  He  regretted  that  he  had 
commissioned  Joseph  to  give  every  one  of 
the  servants  a  piece  of  gold ;  he  hoped  that 
Joseph,  after  all,  was  a  rogue,  and  would 
keep  the  gold  for  himself,  and  give  the 
cursed  attendants  none  of  it. 

The  white-haired  valet  conversed  freely 
with  Sonnenkamp,  and  informed  him,  that 
he  had  been  with  Prince  Leonhard  in  Amer- 
ica ;  it  was  a  hateful  country,  without  order 
and  without  manners ;  he  thanked  God, 
when  he  got  home  again. 

Sonneukamp  did  not  know  how  he  ought 
to  take  this  freedom ;  but  the  best  way  was 
to  put  up  with  it  silently.  He  listened 
with  assenting  nods,  and  thought  to  him- 
self, What  a  way  they  have  of  doing  things 
here  in  the  palace  !  It  is  just  as  if  the  peo- 
ple in  it  didn't  walk  on  their  feet ;  every- 
thing is  so  mysterious  ;  as  if  something  was 
going  on  every  moment  that  had  nothing  at 
all  in  common  with  the  life  of  other  men. 

The  white-haired  valet  requested  Son- 
nenkamp to  sit  down  while  he  waited. 

Sonnenkamp  did  sit  down,  and  drew  off 
his  right-hand  glove  ;  he  wanted  to  be  able 
to  do  it  without  difficulty  when  the  time 
came  to  unglove  that  hand  for  the  oath ; 
and  then  he  presented  some  gold  pieces  to 
the  white-haired  valet. 

The  experienced  valet  withdrew,  bowing, 
to  the  end  of  the  room ;  he  knew  the  dread 
that  was  felt  by  those  who  are  not  accus- 
tomed to  the  court,  and  would  leave  the 
man  to  compose  himself. 

Sonnenkamp  sat  still ;  again  those  wild' 
pulsations  began  to  hammer  away  in  his 
thumb  ;  he  called  for  a  glass  of  water. 

The  white-haired  valet  called  to  another, 
this  one  to  a  third,  and  the  call  for  a  glass 
of  water  went  far  into  the  distance. 

A  very  old  clock  that  was  standing  on 
the  mantle-piece  struck  the  quarter  hour. 
Sonnenkamp  compared  his  watch  with  it, 


422 


TITE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


and  found  that  it  was  very  slow ;  lie  deter- 
mined in  future  to  set  bis  wateh  by  the 
cloek  in  the  palace. 

Sonnenkamp  was  alone  :  and  yet  he  little 
thought  that  through  the  tlear  edges  of  the 
ground  glass  in  a  door  behind  him,  two 
eyes  were  fastened  upon  him,  and  that 
those  eyes  were  rolling  savagely  in  their 
sockets. 

Just  as  the  glass  of  water  made  its  ap- 
pearance, it  was  announced  that  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp might  enter.  lie  could  not  even 
once  moisten  his  lips. 

He  entered  the  large  hall,  where  it  was 
bright  daylight ;  but  he  staggered  back,  for 
directly  opposite  to  him  hung  an  engraving, 
a  work  of  Alfred  Liethers.  A  strong-limbed 
man  with  the  murderer's  knife  still  in  his 
hand,  bending  and  stooping,  was  making 
his  escape  over  a  heath ;  the  bushes  on  the 
road  were  blown  aside  by  the  wind,  and 
above  the  fugitive  hovers  a  supernatural 
shape,  holding  a  sword,  with  the  point 
downward,  directly  over  the  head  of  the 
fleeing  criminal. 

Sonnenkamp  rubbed  his  eyes. 

What  is.  the  picture  here  for  ?  Or  is  it 
only  a  creation  of  his  own  fancy? 

He  did  not  have  time  to  decide  this 
matter  for  himself,  for  just  then  the  Prince 
entered  noiselessly  from  behind  the  curtain 
of  the  door,  over  the  thick  heavy  carpet. 
He  was  dressed  in  full  uniform,  with  a  broad 
band  thrown  over  the  right  shoulder  and 
across  his  breast.  He  carried  himself  very 
erect,  and  merely  nodded  slightly.  He 
bade  Sonnenkamp  welcome,  and  excused 
himself  for  having  kept  him  waiting. 

Sonnenkamp  bowed  low,  without  uttering 
a  word. 

CHAPTER  III. 
A   BLOOD-RED  STREAK. 

"  Is  your  son  with  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Highness.11 

"Is  he  still  determined  to  enter  the 
army  ? 11 

"  He  is  anxious  to  do  so.11 

"I  like  the  noble-looking  youth,  and  will 
take  care  that  the  ladies  do  not  spoil  him  ; 
they  would  like  to  make  a  plaything  of  him. 
Has  he  already  applied  for  admission  ? 11 

"  Not  yet,  your  Highness.  I  wished  to 
have  the  application  made  in  the  name  that 
your  Highness  is  pleased  to  confer  upon 
me.11 

"Quite  right,11  answered  the  Prince. 
On  his  writing-table  were  two  telegraphic 
knobs,  a  white  and  a  black  one ;  he 
pressed  the  white  one  ;  the  old  valet  entered, 
and  the  Prince  said,  — 


"I  desire  that  there  shall  be  no  one  in 
the  ante-chamber.1' 

The  attendant  withdrew.  Sonnenkamp 
gazed  questioningly  at  the  Prince,  who 
said :  — 

"Your  elevation  to  rank  has  been  a 
difficult  matter  for  me.  You  have  many 
enemies,  of  course." 

Sonnenkamp\s  eyes  closed  for  a  moment, 
as  if  some  one  were  brandishing  a  dagger 
before  them ;  and  then  he  gazed  at  the  pic- 
ture ;  it  was  no  creation  of  his  fancy,  it  was 
hanging  there  behind  the  Prince.  Why  did 
the  Prince  have  it  in  his  cabinet? 

"You  are  a  man  of  noble  ideas,11  began 
•the  Prince  anew;  "  you  have  shaped  your 
life  yourself,  I  respect  you  for  that ;  such 
men  deserve  the  highest  honors.  I  am  glad 
that  I  can  confer  tjiem  on  you,  as  I  can.11 

Sonnenkamp  wanted  to  say  that  he  was 
well  aware  of  the  opinion  of  the  Count  of 
Wolfsgarten,  but  that  he  did  not  question  the 
absolute  power  of  the  Prince  ;  but  it  seemed 
better  to  be  silent.  Why  should  he  embark 
in  a  discussion  which  would  only  lengthen 
out  the  scene?  And  besides,  the  Cabinets- 
rath  had  strongly  urged  upon  him  the  neces- 
sity of  discretion. 

The  Prince  now  went  over  once  more  all 
the  noble  and  good  things  which  Sonnen- 
kamp had  done.  The  latter  listened  mod- 
estly with  downcast  eyes  ;  he  really  found 
it  very  trying  to  hear  it  all  now  in  his  pre- 
sent position ;  the  Prince  might  defer  it 
until  a  party,  or  a  hunt,  or  some  other  oc- 
casion would  offer  a  favorable  opportunity. 
Sonnenkamp  was  of  the  opinion  that  the 
whole  court,  as  well  as  himself,  looked  upon 
all  these  stories  about  nobility  as  nothing 
more  than  an  excellent  necessary  humbug ; 
he  was  astonished  to  find  the  Prince  so 
solemn  and  earnest  in  a  t6te-a-t6te.  Or 
was  this  part  of  the  humbug  ? 

But  the  Prince  was  going  through  with 
what  was  before  him  as  became  a  man 
moved  by  duty,  however  unpleasant  the 
duty  might  be ;  he  evidently  considered  it 
proper  to  declare  his  motives,  in  order  to 
exhort  the  man  to  strive  after  tilings  still 
more  noble.  He  seemed  to  himself  at  this 
moment  a  kind  of  priest,  who,  concealed 
from  the  whole  world  in  the  inner  sanctuary 
of  the  temple,  is  consecrating  a  novice  ;  he 
was  much  moved  himself.  The  first  cham- 
berlain had  not  been  wrong ;  the  Prince 
had  returned  to  the  palace  some  time  before 
the  hour  appointed,  but  he  had  been  quietly 
preparing  himself  beforehand  for  this  solemn 
ceremony. 

Since  Herr  von  Endlich's  elevation  to  the 
nobility,  the  Prince  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  using  certain  set  phrases  ;  no  one  knew 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


423 


who  had  originated  them,  but  he  often 
repeated,  like  a  lesson  learned  by  heart,  the 
words  —  "Yes,  yes,  it  is  an  established 
rule,  an  excellent  rule,  that  the  monumental 
should  not  be  treated  lightly.  One  should 
not  carve  in  stone,  or  cast  in  bronze,  a 
momentary  jest  or  whim,  to  look  awkward 
and  out  of  place  as  time  goes  on ;  such 
things  are  only  fit  to  enliven  the  passing 
moment.  The  transient  should  not  be 
transformed  into  an  enduring  monument.11 
He  did  not  show  distinctly  what  was  in  his 
mind,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  what  he  meant. 
He  had  not  done  well  in  making  a  pun 
with  the  name  he  had  conferred  upon  Herr 
von  Endlich,  for  what  is  more  monumental 
than  elevation  to  rank?  The  present  occa- 
sion, therefore,  he  wished  to  make  a  thor- 
oughly solemn  one. 

Patiently,  and  like  a  child  bending  for- 
ward to  receive  confirmation.  Sonnenkamp 
bowed  his  head.  Several  times  the  Prince 
stretched  out  one  hand,  several  times  the 
other,  several  times  both  together,  while 
he  was  speaking  of  the  blessings  which  men 
strongly  armed  with  the  knowledge  of  the 
higher  duties  spread  around  them.  Son- 
nenkamp expected  every  minute  that  he 
would  lay  both  hands  upon  his  head  and 
bless  him,  and  although  the  Prince  was 
younger  than  himself,  he  would  have  re- 
ceived the  blessing  with  modesty  and 
humility,  for  this  man  had  been  consecrated 
by  the  custom  of  ages  for  the  dispensation 
of  honor. 

At  this  moment  Sonnenkamp  tried  to  be 
right  monarchically  inclined  ;  if  it  had  been 
demanded  of  him,  he  would,  with  every 
prescribed  formula,  have  solemnly  foresworn 
republic,  constitution,  and  whatever  was 
firmly  fixed  by  the  power  of  law. 

In  the  midst  of  his  remarks  the  Prince 
took  up  a  roll,  covered  with  blue  velvet,  that 
was  lying  on  his  table ;  he  took  off  the 
covering  and  drew  out  a  parchment  roll 
that  crackled  and  rustled,  and  bore  a  broad 
glistening  seal. 

Sonnen  kam  p  took  offhis  right-hand  glove  ; 
now  comes  the  moment  when  he  must  take 
the  oath  and  receive  the  parchment  that  is 
to  make  him  a  new  man.  He  was  ready  to 
be  made  a  new  man  ;  he  tried  to  be  deeply 
affected,  and  sought  for  the  only  thing  in 
the  world  that  could  really  affect  him  deeply 
and  make  him  tremble.  And  now  in  the 
middle,  of  the  Prince's  cabinet  he  saw  be- 
fore him  a  church-yard  covered  with  snow 
in  a  Polish  village,  and  there  was  his 
mother's  grave  ;  he  did  not  hear  what  the 
Prince  was  saying  while  he  held  the  parch- 
ment in  his  hand,  but  his  words  were  un- 
doubtedly very  moving. 


But  now,  what  does  that  mean?  the 
Prince  laid  the  parchment  down  again  on 
the  table,  and,  sitting  down,  said :  — 

"1  am  glad  to  see,  in  your  eyes,  how 
profoundly  you  feel  this  moment.  Pray  be 
seated.11  Sonnenkamp  sat  down,  and  the 
Prince  continued :  — 

"Let  us  discuss  one  more  subject,  in  a 
quiet  way.  You  have  held  many  slaves, 
have  you  any  still  ?  11 

"  No,  your  Highness." 

"Was  it  only  a  longing  for  Germany 
that  induced  you  to  return  to  the  Old  World, 
or  was  it  also  your  finding  the  condition  of 
affairs  in  the  vaunted  Republic  unbear- 
able ?  " 

"The  latter,  your  Highness,  although 
the  former  had  something  to  do  with  it.  I 
see  trouble  brewing  in  the  United  States, 
which  —  I  say  this  only  to  your  Highness — 
cannot  be  settled  except  by  the  establish- 
ment of  a  monarchy  in  the  New  World.11 

"  Good,  you  must  explain  the  matter  to 
me  more  fully  some  other  time.  I  am  glad 
to  learn  —  very  glad.  It  is  our  duty  to 
receive  instruction  from  those  who  under- 
stand a  particular  subject  thoroughly. 
What  do  you  think  of  slavery  in  general  ?  11 

"That  is  a  very  extensive  subject,  your 
Highness  ;  I  have  put  my  views  upon  it  in 
writing;  I  shall  have  the  honor  11 

"  No,  just  tell  me  concisely  the  kernel, 
the  principle  of  the  thing.11 

"Your  Highness,  the  niggers  are  an  in- 
ferior race,  that  is  an  established  physiolog- 
ical fact ;  it  is  idle  dreaming  —  though 
honestly  maintained  by  many —  which  leads 
directly  to  the  ruin  of  the  nigger  himself,  to 
set  him  down  as  entitled  to  the  same  rights 
with  other  men.11 

"  And  would  you  — 11  asked  the  Prince. 
"No,  I  will  put  another  question  to  you. 
How  do  you  regard  a  man  who  traffics  in 
beings  of  this  inferior  race  ?  11 

Sonnenkamp  started  up  immediately  from 
his  chair,  but  he  sat  down  again  quickly, 
and  said  :  — 

"  Creatures,  your  Highness,  who  cannot 
help  themselves,  and  who  never  will  be  able 
to,  are  protected  as  they  would  not  other- 
wise  be  by  being  considered  as  property  ; 
that  so  called  generosity,  without  profit, 
without  material  regard  either  for  property 
or  for  honor,  is  like  a  soul  without  a  body ; 
one  can  conceive  it,  but  it  does  not  exist, 
at  least  in  the  world  we  see  before  us.11 

"Very  fine  —  very  good.  You  are  a 
thinker.  I  myself  believe  that  the  negro  is 
better  off  with  a  master.  But  how  is  it 
when  you  see  with  your  own  eyes  the  child 
sold  away  from  the  mother,  and  in  that  way 
every  tie  of  family  forcibly  torn  asunder?" 


424 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


V  But,  your  Ifighness,  that  happens  very 
seldom,  or  rather  hardly  ever,"  replied  Son- 
nenkamp  with  great  composure,  "for  it 
would  be  a  material  disadvantage,  and 
would  make  the  slaves  less  inclined  to  work  ; 
but  should  it  happen,  any  sentimental  feel- 
ing about  the  matter  would  be  only  narrow- 
ing the  sentimentalism  from  a  wider  sphere 
to  a  special  case.  A  brute  that  has  out- 
grown the  care  of  its  parents  knows  the  par- 
ents no  more,  mates  do  not  know  each 
other  after  the  brooding  time  is  past.  I 
will  not  say  11 

"  What  is  it?"  said  the  Prince,  interrupt- 
ing him  suddenly. 

The  white-haired  valet  entered. 

"  Why  am  I  interrupted  ?  " 

"  His  Excellency  the  Minister  begs  your 
Highness  to  open  this  immediately." 

The  Prince  opened  the  letter,  and  took  out 
a  printed  sheet ;  a  red  line  ran  along  the 
margin  of  it  like  a  streak  of  blood.  The 
Prince  began  to  read,  he  looked  up  from 
the  page  towards  Sonnenkamp  :  he  read  on 
farther,  the  paper  cracked  and  trembled  in 
his  hand ;  he  laid  it  down  on  the  table  and 
said : — 

"  Confounded  audacity  !  " 

Sonnenkamp  was  standing  at  the  table, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  two  tele- 
graphic knobs  had  changed  into  eyes,  one 
white  and  one  black,  and  from  the  green 
table  a  fabulous  creature  of  strange  form 
was  shaping  itself, —  a  queer  monster  with  a 
white  and  a  black  eye,  and  that  it  was 
emerging  from  the  deep,  moving  along  slug- 
gishly, and  staggering  from  side  to  side. 
As  if  in  the  frenzy  of  fever  he  sat  there 
collecting  all  his  strength.  The  Prince, 
looking  now  at  the  paper,  now  at  Son'nen- 
kamp,  at  last  walked  up  to  him  and  held 
out  the  paper ;  the  rustle  of  it  was  like  the 
stab  of  a  knife  as  he  said  : — 

"  Here,  read  it  —  read  it." 

Printed  in  large  letters  on  it  were  these 
words  marked  with  red  ink  : — 

"  A  humble  suggestion  for  a  coat-of- 
arms  and  escutcheon  for  the  ennobled  slave- 
trader  and  slave-killer,  James  Heinrich 
Sonnenkamp,  formerly  Banfield,  from  Lou- 
isiana —  " 

Sonnenkamp  read  only  these  words,  and 
then  stared  up  at  the  Prince,  on  whose  face 
was  a  distorted  smile. 

"Give  me  your  hand,"  said  the  Prince, 
"  give  me  your  hand  and  tell  me,  on  your 
word  of  honor,  that  it  is  a  lie.  Give  me 
your  hand,  and  we  will  then  crush  the  impu- 
dent scoundrels." 

Sonnenkamp  staggered  back,  as  if  a  shot 
had  struck  him.    What  was  all  that  he  had 


enjoyed  in  life  compared  with  the  anguish 
of  this  moment  ? 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  doubled  up, 
as  if  he  wished  to  say  :  I  can  break  3  ou  like 
a  slender  twig.  But  he  opened  his  hand, 
and  held  it  on  high  with  the  forefinger 
pointing  to  heaven. 

Then  suddenly  there  appeared  in  front 
of  him  a  large  powerful  negro,  rolling  his 
eyes  and  showing  his  teeth. 

With  a  cry  more  like  that  of  a  wild  beast 
than  of  a  human  being,  Sonnenkamp  fell 
backwards  upon  his  chair. 

The  figure  in  front  of  him  gave  a  yell, 
and  behind  him  yelled  another  —  it  was  Ad- 
ams, who  had  rushed  in. 

"Prince!  master!"  cried  the  negro, 
"  this  is  the  man  who  took  me,  who  car- 
ried me  off  as  a  slave,  and  pitched  me  into 
the  water.  Let  him  only  show  his  finger, 
it  still  bears  the  mark  of  my  teeth.  Let  me- 
have  him,  let  me  have  him !  Til  suck  his 
blood  for  him,  I'll  choke  him  !  Only  let  me 
have  him  a  minute  —  let  me  have  him  !  then 
kill  me !  " 

Adams  caught  hold  of  Sonnenkamp's 
hand  from  behind,  and  clutched  it  as  if  he 
would  crush  it. 

Sonnenkamp  struggled  with  all  his  might 
to  throw  off  the  powerful  hold,  wrestling 
with  the  negro  clinging  fast  to  him ;  and 
his  anguish  was  doubled,  for  he  was  not 
only  wrestling,  but,  as  he  thought,  he  could 
see  in  the  mirror  opposite  two  beings,  one 
was  himself —  was  it  really  he  ?  —  the 
other  a  devil,  a  demon. 

Is  it  all  only  a  fever-fancy,  or  is  it  reality  ? 

The  Prince's  finger  constantly  plied 
the  telegraphic  bell  on  his  table ;  servants 
began  to  pour  in,  in  great  numbers. 

The  Prince  cried  : — 

"  Take  Adams  out.  See  that  he  keeps 
quiet ;  and  the  rest  of  you  show  this  man 
out  of  the  palace." 

Adams  was  torn  away  from  Sonnenkamp  ; 
he  roared  like  a  bull  that  has  received  the 
fatal  stroke,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth. 

The  Prince  took  the  parchment  with  the 
red  seal  up  from  the  table,  and  turned 
away  with  it. 

Then  Sonnenkamp  rose  up  ;  he  glanced  at 
the  Prince,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from 
their  sockets,  and  shrieked  out : — 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  and  what  then 
are  you  ?  Your  ancestors,  or  connections, 
or  whatever  else  they  were,  sold  their  sub- 
jects away  into  America,  and  got  a  fixed 
price  for  a  shot-off  arm,  for  a  lucky  corpse. 
You  have  trafficked  in  white  men,  and  sent 
them  across  the  sea.  And  what  are  you 
now  ?    Secret  proprietors  of  gambling  hells 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


425 


at  home.  Pah  !  I  bought  my  slaves  from  a 
prince,  bought  them  honorably,  but  what 
did  you  do  ?  You  sold  off  your  subjects, 
and  on  Sundays  those  who  were  left  behind 
had  to  say  amen  in  the  church,  when  the 
Lord  of  lords  was  supplicated  for  your  wel- 
fare. Are  you  ashamed  of  this  kinship  ? 
But  I  tell  you  he  was  a  man,  and  deserved 
better  to  reign  than  " 

He  was  not  sure  whether  the  Prince  still 
heard  what  he  was  saying ;  the  servants 
seized  him  and  gave  him  to  understand  that 
he  must  be  quiet,  that  such  loud  talking  was 
not  permitted  there. 

Sonnenkamp  had  fallen ;  he  was  raised 
again,  and  led  down  the  staircase.  He 
looked  about  him  often,  as  if  he  wanted  to 
say,  I  shall  never  tread  these  halls  more. 

Below,  the  carriage  was  waiting.  Son- 
nennamp  leaned  on  Joseph  and  said  : — 

"Joseph,  sit  beside  me  in  the  carriage.1' 

That  was  all  he  said. 

When  they  had  reached  the  hotel,  and  got 
out,  the  little  fellow  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
hackmen ;  they  all  had  courage  enough 
now,  and  cried  out : — 

"Long  live  the  Baron!  hurra!  again 
hurra !  " 

Sonnenkamp  could  not  utter  a  word. 
Was  the  world  mocking  at  him  ? 

He  could  not  tell  how  he  got  up  the  steps. 
In  a  moment  he  was  sitting  in  a  large  chair ; 
he  gazed  at  the  mirror,  as  if  in  that  room 
too  the  reflection  of  the  negro  must  con- 
front him  there. 

He  sat  there,  staring,  without  speaking  a 
word. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
DISSECTED. 

Sonnenkamp  leaned  back  in  the  arm-chair 
and  stared  before  him ;  then  he  looked  at 
the  chair  itself  and  caught  hold  of  the  arms 
of  it,  as  if  he  wanted  to  ask,  Does  the 
chair  I  am  sitting  on  still  hold  together? 
Then,  as  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  he 
began  to  quiver  like  an  aspen ;  he  felt  the 
order,  tore  it  off  with  vehemence,  and 
cried : — 

"So  it  is,  I  must  struggle  with  two 
worlds.  I  must  fight  with  the  old  one  as  I 
have  with  the  new.  Cheer  up  !  the  new  hunt 
is  beginning.  I  will  not  suffer  myself  to  be 
put  down.  I  must  either  despise  myself,  or 
despise  you ;  we  will  see  who  is  strongest, 
who  is  most  worthy." 

It  breathed  new  life  into  him  to  think 
that  the  world  so  despised  him. 

"  Just  so  !  I  can  do  that  too ;  I  despise 
you  all !  " 

"  But  the  children  !  the  children  !  "  some- 


thing whispered  to  him.  When  he  was  wag- 
ing war  in  America,  the  children  knew 
nothing  of  it.    He  rang  and  asked  : — 

"  Where  is  Roland  ?  " 

"  The  young  master  has  not  got  back 
yet ;  he  was  here  at  twelve  o'clock,  and 
asked  for  you,  but  he  rode  away  again  with 
some  comrades." 

"He  should  have  waited,"  exclaimed 
Sonnenkamp.  "Well  —  it  is  better  so," 
he  said,  calming  himself. 

Again  he  was  sitting  alone ;  his  mind 
turned  inward  on  itself,  and  now  the  matter 
was  clear  to  him.  So  it  was  that  the  men 
outside  the  printing-office  had  been  reading  ; 
it  was  through  mockery  that  the  poor  devils 
in  front  of  the  hotel  had  raised  a  cheer  for 
him. 

He  stood  up  and  looked  through  the 
window.  The  hack-drivers  wert  standing 
together  in  a  group,  and  the  dwarf  was 
reading  to  them  from  the  newspaper ;  they 
may  have  felt  that  Sonnenkamp  was  looking 
at  them,  for  all  at  once  they  turned  their 
gaze  upwards,  and  Sonnenkamp  as  if  struck 
by  a  hundred  bullets  staggered  back  into 
the  middle  of  the  room  ;  then  he  sat  down 
and  held  his  open  hands  together  between 
his  knees.  He  had  gazed  into  an  abyss  ;  it 
had  dizzied  him,  but  he  was  composing 
himself  with  courage  and  decision.  He 
knew  how  at  this  moment  they  were  talking 
about  him  all  over  the  city,  in  carpeted 
hall  and  plastered  stable  —  they  are  saying : 
I  wouldn't  take  all  his  millions  to  be  in  his 
shoes.  Very  assiduously  did  Sonnenkamp 
picture  everything  to  himself — and  what 
will  be  in  the  paper  in  the  morning  ? 

Sonnenkamp  sat  silent  a  long  time,  buried 
in  himself;  at  length  a  letter  was  brought  to 
him,  bearing  a  large  seal.  Sonnenkamp 
started ;  could  the  Prince  have  regretted 
what  had  happened,  and  have  gone  so  far 
as  to  join  with  him,  and,  truly  great,  thus 
defy  the  world?  Long  he  stared  at  the 
seal ;  but  it  was  only  that  of  the  newspaper 
office,  and  the  weighty  letter  contained 
several  pieces  of  gold.  Crutius,  with  many 
thanks,  returned  what  he  had  received  at 
the  time  he  had  gone  up  to  the  villa,  and 
explained  that  he  would  have  sent  it  back 
much  sooner  if  he  had  not  desired  to  pay  it 
with  interest. 

"Pshaw!  how  contemptible,"  cried  Son- 
nenkamp. For  sometime  he  weighed  in  his 
hand  the  gold  that  had  been  scornfully  re- 
turned to  him.  So  it  is  then !  Every  one 
dares  to  scorn  you,  and  you  must  be  quiet 
when  every  one  pities  you. 

He  had  a  revolver  with  him,  he  sprang 
up;  he  took  it  up,  waved  it  in  the  air, 
turned  it  over.    Yes,  that  was  the  course 


426 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


to  take  !  To  the  printing-office  and  shoot 
down  this  Professor  Crutins  like  a  mad  dog  \ 
But  in  this  country  that  cannot  go  unpunish- 
ed. And  should  he,  then,  shoot  himself, 
be  thrown  into  prison,  and  have  his  head  cut 
off? 

"No,  no!  we  must  work  the  thing  dif- 
ferently,11 he  said  to  himself.  He  laid  the 
revolver  back  again  in  the  case,  and  rang. 
Joseph  came,  he  was  trembling.  Who 
knows  what  the  man-eater  is  going  to  do 
with  him  now  ? 

"  Ah,  master  ! 11  said  Joseph,  "  I  remain 
with  you.  The  coachman  Bertram  has  taken 
service  here  in  the  house.  I  do  not  want 
double  and  treble  wages,  which  people  say 
you  will  have  to  give  now.11 

"  Good  !  Who  was  your  father,  is  he  still 
alive  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  my  father  is  in  the  School 
of  Anatomy,  and  when  the  corpses  of  the 
suicides  came  to  the  dissecting-house,  my 
father  often  used  to  say :  Yes,  yes,  when 
one  has  done  that  most  frightful  thing  in  the 
world,  he  must  be  dissected  into  the  bar- 
gain. Excuse  me,  Sir,  I  too  am  quite  con- 
fused. But  the  Professorin  told  me  once, 
that  every  one  has  done  something  in  his 
life  out  of  the  way,  and  so  we  should  stand 
by  and  be  true  to  one  another.11 

A  peculiar  smile  flitted  over  Sonnen- 
kamp's  countenance ;  the  poor  rogue  was 
playing  the  kind-hearted,  and  bestowing 
forgiveness  upon  him. 

"  So  ?  the  Professorin  ?  "  said  he.  In  a 
moment  his  thoughts  were  in  the  villa,  in 
the  park,  in  the  hot-houses,  in  the  green- 
house. He  wanted  to  ask  Joseph  whether 
the  Professorin  had  said  anything  more 
definite,  and  whether  she  knew  all  about 
him.  But  he  kept  back  the  words,  and 
simply  said  that  he  wanted  to  send  some 
messengers. 

"And  do  you  see  to  it  too,  let  Roland 
be  hunted  up  and  brought  'here  at  once. 
Let  Herr  von  Pranken  be  sent  for,  too,11  he 
cried  out  after  Joseph. 

Roland  was  hard  to  find,  but  Pranken  was 
not  to  be  found  at  all,  for  he  was  in  a  place 
where  no  one  would  ever  have  thought  of 
looking  for  the  life-enjoying  Baron. 

The  head  waiter  entered  and  said  that 
dinner  was  ready,  and  asked  when  it  should 
be  served  up.  Sonnenkamp  looked  hard  at 
the  questioner.  The  creature  surely  knew 
that  he  would  eat  nothing,  and  had  only 
come  to  spy  upon  him ;  perhaps  there  were 
many  people  down  below  who  would  like  to 
hear  how  Herr  Sonnenkamp  bore  himself 
just  now.  Sonnenkamp  rose  proudly,  look- 
ed at  the  head  waiter  with  a  repelling  glance, 
and  told  him  that  he  need  not  ask,  he  would 


let  him  know  when  he  wanted  what  he  had 
ordered  ;  and  at  the  same  time  he  charged 
him  to  see  to  it,  that  no  one  should  be  al- 
lowed to  enter  his  room  without  having 
been  announced. 

One  thing  after  another  passed  in  con- 
fusion through  his  brain ;  Joseph  had  told 
him  about  the  suicides  who  are  dissected  in 
the  dissecting-room.  Sonnenkamp  contem- 
plated himself  from  head  to  foot,  and  then 
opened  his  mouth  as  if  he  must  utter  the 
thought  that  was  now  running  through  his 
soul.  He  is  being  dissected,  not  bodily, 
but  spiritually,  by  every  stinging,  scandal- 
loving  tongue. 

CHxlPTER  V. 
THE  CONFESSION  OF  A  WORLDLING. 

At  the  very  time  that  Sonnenkamp  was 
entering  the  palace,  Pranken  was  going 
into  the  deanery ;  he  was  detained  a  few 
minutes  by  the  passing  soldiery,  he  had  to 
salute  many  a  comrade  covered  with  dust, 
on  foot  and  on  horseback.  He  was  going 
to  that  quarter  of  the  city  wherein  resound- 
ed no  clang  of  military  music ;  here  all  was 
still,  as  if  everything  were  holding  its  breath, 
except  that  in  the  church  the  organ  notes 
were  still  swelling.  He  went  in,  he  saw  the 
Dean,  a  large  powerful  man,  just  returning 
into  the  sacristy.  Pranken  sat  awhile  in  a  , 
pew,  until  he  felt  sure  that  the  Dean  had 
reached  his  house  ;  then  he  left  the  church. 
The  servant  was  standing  in  the  open  door  ; 
he  said  that  the  reverend  gentleman  request- 
ed Pranken  to  walk  in  and  wait  a  few  mo- 
ments. He  was  shown  up  the  staircase  :  it 
was  a  fine  large  staircase  of  the  old  chapter 
house.  At  the  top,  a  young  priest  who  was 
just  coming  out  was  shutting  the  door  very 
quietly,  even  reverently;  /  the  young  priest 
came  down  the  left  staircase  while  Pranken 
went  up  the  right. 

Pranken  had  to  wait  awhile  in  the  large 
room  where  an  open  book  lay  on  the  table. 
He  looked  into  it ;  it  was  a  scheme  of  ecclesi- 
astical preferments  ;  he  smiled.  Good,  the 
priests,  lik?  the  military,  have  a  printed 
list,  too.  This  simile  gave  him  new  cour- 
age. 

The  Dean  entered  ;  he  had  a  book  in  his 
hand,  between  the  leaves  of  which  he  had 
inserted  his  forefinger.  He  saluted  Pran- 
ken, making  a  gesture  with  the  book,  and 
begged  him  to  sit  down ;  he  offered  him  a 
seat  on  the  sofa,  and  seated  himself  opposite 
him  in  a  chair  on  casters. 

"  What  do  you  bring,  Herr  Baron  ?  11 
With  a  peculiar  smile,  Pranken  answered 
that  he  brought  nothing,  but  on  the  other 
hand  came  to  get  something.    The  priest 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


427 


nodded,  looked  into  the  book  once  more  at 
the  place  where  he  had  his  finger  inserted, 
and  laying  it  aside  said  :  — 
"  I  ara  ready/' 

Pranken  began  to  explain,  that  he  had 
chosen  the  Dean  in  preference  to  any  one 
else,  to  be  his  confessor  in  an  affair  which 
only  a  man  of  noble  birth  could  properly 
appreciate  and  give  advice  about.  The 
Dean  grasped  his  chin  with  his  left  hand, 
and  said  with  great  decision,  that  after  or- 
dination and  the  new  birth  there  was  no 
longer  any  nobility ;  he  had  no  different 
power  from  that  of  the  son  of  the  poorest 
day-laborer. 

Pranken  felt  that  he  had  made  a  mistake 
at  the  outset,  and  went  on  to  say  in  a  very 
humble  way,  that  above  all  things  he  re- 
garded the  priestly  dignity  as  the  highest, 
but  that  still  it  was  well  known  that  the 
very  worthy  Dean  knew  something  about 
the  circumstances  of  life  which  he  wished  to 
lay  before  him.  Then  he  gave  a  concise 
account  of  his  past  life  ;  it  was  that  of  a  son 
of  a  noble  family  until  his  acquaintance 
with  Sonnenkamp.  At  this  point  he  went 
&  somewhat  into  detail,  and  confessed  that 
his  thinking  of  Manna  as  his  wife,  Manna 
the  daughter  of  the  millionaire,  was  at  first 
nothing  more  than  a  jest,  a  pastime.  He 
related  how  Manna  had  unexpectedly  en- 
tered the  convent ;  and  with  great  earnest- 
ness he  declared  that  it  was  Manna  that 
had  wakened  in  him  the  knowledge  of  the 
higher  life.  He  dwelt  particularly  on  his 
momentary  determination  to  become  a 
priest ;  but  he  was  now  of  another  way  of 
thinking;  he  was  still  too  worldly  in  his 
views,  but  he  hoped,  however,  in  union 
with  Manna,  to  lead  a  life  devoted  to  the 
highest  of  all  interests. 

With  quiet  attention,  frequently  closing 
his  eves,  and  again  opening  them  quickly, 
the  Dean  listened  to  the  story. 

At  last  Pranken  paused,  and  the  reverend 
father  said :  — 

"That,  I  suppose,  is  the  introduction. 
I  must  now  tell  you  on  my  part  that  I  know 
this  Herr  Sonnenkamp  and  his  daughter.  I 
was  staying  not  long  ajjo  with  a  brother 
priest  in  the  town  which  is  part  of  the  same 
parish  with  Villa  Eden  —  is  not  the  place 
so  called  ?  I  have  seen  the  maiden  ;  it  was 
then  reported  that  she  was  going  to  become 
a  nun.  I  have  also  seen  the  park  and  the 
house ;  everything  is  very  stately,  very 
beautiful.  And  now  I  beg  of  you,  proceed 
and  tell  me,  without  any  further  digression, 
what  you  wish  from  me.1' 

Pranken  went  on  to  sav  rapidly,  that  in 
conjunction  with  the  Cabinetsrath  he  had 
brought  matters  to  such  a  point  that  Son- 


nenkamp was  at  this  very  hour  receiving  a 
patent  of  nobility. 

Again  he  paused,  but  the  Reverend  father 
asked  no  more  questions,  but  simply  looked 
at  him  inquiringly. 

Fastening  his  gaze  upon  the  table-cover, 
Pranken  now  went  on  to  tell  what  he  knew 
of  Sonnenkamp's  past  life ;  he  had,  up  to 
this  moment,  believed  that  he  might  regard 
it  with  indifference,  but  at  the  present  time 
—  just  since  yesterday  —  when  Sonnen- 
kamp and  his  family  were  to  be  made  of 
equai  rank  with  himself,  it  let  him  rest  no 
longer. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  the  Dean. 
"  Do  you  find  yourself  overburdened  in 
your  conscience,  because  you,  although 
you  knew  what  the  man  is,  still. endeavored 
successfully  to  procure  for  him  an  honora- 
ble and  distinguished  preferment?  in  a 
word,  his  elevation  to  the  rank  of  noble  ?  " 

"  Yes  and  no,"  replied  Pranken,  "lam 
not  clear  on  that  point.  I  could  say  that  I 
am  innocent,  for  I  have  never  been  asked 
my  opinion  on  the  matter,  and  still  " 

"  Go  on,  I  think  you  are  on  the  right 
path  ;  '  and  still '  —  you  were  going  to 
say." 

Pranken  resumed  his  speech  like  a  pupil 
in  examination,  and  collecting  his  thoughts 
said  :  — 

"  Thank  Heaven  that  there  are  living  be- 
ings sent  into  the  world,  to  whom  we  can 
and  must  tell  what  we  do  not  acknowledge 
to  ourselves.  I  must  still,  however,  con- 
fess that  my  open  and  undisguised  relation 
to  Herr  Sonnenkamp  is  perhaps  something 
more  than  an  expression  of  an  opinion." 

"  Right,  quite  right !  You  have  come  to 
me  then,  to  learn,  at  the  very  last,  hour, 
what  you  ought  to  do  ?  " 

"To  tell  the  honest  truth,  no.  I  simply 
wished  to  have  you  give  me  something,  an 
injunction  of  some  sort  to  ease  this  con- 
stant torment  and  fear  of  discovery." 

"  Wonderful  worjd  !  "  rejoined  the  Priest. 
"Wonderful  world!  You  would  like  to 
live  in  sinful  enjoyment,  and  still,  at  the 
same  time  receive  an  '  absolving  benedic- 
tion.'" 

Pranken's  thoughts  wandered  involunta- 
rily to  Nelly's  house  near  by,  but  with  a 
powerful  effort  he  called  back  his  thoughts. 

Both  men  said  nothing  for  a  short  time ; 
then  the  Dean  asked  :  — 

"  Does  this  Herr  Sonnenkamp  know  that 
you  are  acquainted  with  his  past  life  ?  " 

"  O  no,  and  he  must  never  know  it." 

Again  there  was  a  long  pause. 

From  the  cathedral  near  by  came  the 
stroke  of  noon ;  the  bells  rang  out  the  An- 
gelus, the  Priest   rose   and   said  a  low 


428 


TIIE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


prayer ;  Pranken  did  the  same.  They 
seated  themselves  again,  but  neither  spoke. 
Pranken  was  becoming  indignant ;  he  was 
angry  with  himself  for  having  come  here : 
however,  there  was  no  help  for  it  now  ;  with 
repressed  anger  he  said  at  last :  — 

"  Very  Reverend  sir,  I  have  confessed 
everything  to  you  now ;  I  beg  of  you  to  ad- 
vise me.1' 

M  Should  I  advise  you  to  forsake  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  and  your  bride  ?  " 

Pranken  shrank  back. 

The  Dean  proceeded,  rising,  and  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  parlor:  —  "That  is 
the  way  with  you.  Yon  will  have  advice, 
you  children  of  worldly  pleasure,  but  only 
such  advice  as  enjoins  no  privation  upon 
you ;  you  will  have  such  counsel  only  as 
enables  you  to  accomplish  your  purpose, 
whatever  it  may  be,  with  a  pacified  con- 
science. You  want  mustard  for  the  diges- 
tion of  heavy  dinners,  do  you  not  ?  "  said 
he,  turning  round  suddenly. 

His  eyes  sparkled. 

"Reverend  .sir,"  said  Pranken,  in  a 
tremor,  "  bid  me  forsake  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp and  Manna,  and  I  promise  you  that 
I  will  do  it  forthwith.  Only  think  what 
will  become  of  the  maiden,  and  shall  not 
what  has  been  so  earned  be  used  for 
higher  " 

"  Stop  !  "  said  the  Dean,  interrupting 
him,  and  extending  his  hand  with  a  gesture 
of  rebuke,  knitting  his  br  ows  and  pressing 
his  lips  tight  together.  "You  think  that 
you  can  bribe  us  with  these  millions  ?  You 
are  another  of  those,  who,  with  outward 
veneration,  still  believe  within  themselves 
the  clergy  want  nothing  but  money,  nothing 
but  p^wer.  No,  we  want  none  of  your 
money,  so  won  by  marriage  or  inherit- 
ance i " 

The  Priest  was  standing  at  the  window, 
looking  up  at  the  sky,  in  which  dark  clouds 
were  gathering ;  he  seemed  to  have  quite 
forgotten  that  Pranken  was  there,  and  the 
latter  finally  said  to 'him, — 

"  Reverend  sir,  do  you  wish  me  to  with- 
draw ?  " 

The  Priest  turned  round  quickly  and  said, 
motioning  with  his  left  hand, — 
"Sit  down  —  sit  down." 
Pranken  obeyed. 

"  Now  I  will  tell  you  something.  What 
you  have  done  to  the  nobility,  for  you  have 
done  it,  and  not  simply  allowed  it  to  hap- 
pen, is  your  concern  and  that  of  the  nobil- 
ity ;  for  us,  your  grades  of  honor  are  mat- 
ters of  no  moment.  Whether  a  man  is  a 
commoner  or  a  noble,  it  is  all  the  same  to 
us.    But  I  tell  you  this  " — the  Priest  hes- 


itated, and  resting  his  elbow  in  the  hollow 
of  his  right  hand  took  hold  of  his  chin  with 
his  left;  he  seemed  to  be  arranging  his 
words  with  quiet  deliberation  —  "I  tell 
you  this :  you  must  be  true  now,  you  must 
not  forsake  this  man  and  his  daughter. 
You  must  share  everything  with  them,  what- 
ever the  worldly  honors  may  bring ;  you 
must  consider  yourself  as  linked  to  them, 
and  thank  God  in  humbleness  of  heart  that 
you  have  an  opportunity  of  devoting  your- 
self, and  leading  your  new  family  to  the 
pure  and  noble  sacrilice  of  self." 

Pranken  started  up,  kissed  the  Priest's 
hand,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  I  will,  I  promise  you.  Keep  your  eyo 
on  me  ;  you  shall  see  that  I  will  go  through 
with  whatever  you  enjoin  upon  me." 

"Go  then,  and  God  be  with  you;  you 
have  a  heavier  burden  to  carry  than  you 
now  think  for.    Go,  and  God  be  with  you." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  Baron's  head ; 
Pranken  turned  away,  and  full  of  humility 
descended  the  staircase ;  at  the  bottom  he 
gave  the  soldier  a  brotherly  shake  of  the 
hand. 

After  Pranken  had  gone,  the  soldier  kept 
looking  at  his  hand,  and  then  searching  on 
the  floor ;  he  could  not  imagine  that  the 
free  and  easy  Pranken  had  not  given  him  a 
gold  piece.  No,  that  would  have  made  a 
ringing ;  he  must  surely  have  given  him 
paper  money ;  but  he  could  not  lind  it  on 
the  clean  stone-floor. 

As  if  he  had  anticipated  the  soldier's 
thoughts,  Pranken  returned,  and  departed 
after  putting  a  gold  piece,  into  his  hand. 

He  came  by  Nelly's  house,  where  yes- 
terday —  it  seemed  to  him  a  dream  —  no,  it 
cannot  be  !  —  he  had  waited  an  hour.  He 
glanced  up,  and  thought  he  saw  some  one 
leaning  at  the  open  window,  whose  eyes 
followed  him;  he  fixed  his  look  upon  the 
ground,  and  passed  on. 

He  came  to  the  parade-ground,  listened 
to  the  music,  saw  the  officers  standing  in  a 
group,  and  —  who  can  calculate  the  sinuous 
course  of  tliought  ? —  he  thought  that  the 
watchword  was  now  being  given  out  to  the 
officers ;  and  he  had  a  watchword  too, 
which  no  one  else  was  to  know,  given  to 
him  by  the  man  behind  the  cathedral,  who 
had  dashed  him  down  as  if  he  would  break 
every  one  of  his  bones.  A  smile  went  over 
Pranken's  features. 

"Thou  hast  played  well,  but  thou  hast 
only  played,"  he  said,  recalling  to  mind  the 
Dean.  '"You  shall  see  that  I  can  play 
well  too;  I  know  my  part,  and  I  will  yet 
show  you  a  little  of  my  skill  in  playing." 

Pride  a^ain  rose  within  him,  and  he  could 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


429 


not  comprehend  that  he,  Otto  von  Pranken, 
had  been  such  a  mortified  piece  of  humility. 
But  it  is  very  well  to  have  been  so  once. 

He  came  to  the  Hotel  Victoria  in  a  half- 
humble,  half-conceited  mood,  and  he  now 
felt  a  real  training-day  hunger.  Such  men- 
tal emotions  have  this  advantage,  that  they 
make  one  hungry. 

Pranken  anticipated  with  a  feeling  of  sat- 
isfaction his  dinner  with  the  Baron,  his 
father-in-law. 

As  he  stood  at  Sonnenkamp's  door  and 
was  about  to  ring,  he  heard  some  one  in- 
side saying  in  a  loud  tone  : — 

"  But  where's  Herr  von  Pranken  ?  " 

"  Here  !  "  cried  he,  as  he  went  in. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
HONOR  LIES  BLEEDING. 

Sonnenkamp's  decoration  was  lying  at 
Pranken's  feet  as  he  entered,  and  the  first 
thing  be  did  was  to  stoop  down  and  pick  it 
up.  Joseph,  left  the  room.  Pranken  bal- 
anced the  decoration  as  if  it  were  a  heavy 
weight.  Sonnenkamp  seemed  to  be  waiting 
for  Pranken  to  speak  first,  and  when  the 
latter  said,  "  I  congratulate  you,  n  broke 
in  : — 

1 '  No,  no  — do  not.  I  thank  you  for  com- 
ing to  me  again.  I  thank  you  sincerely  — 
very  sincerely.    You  meant  well  by  me.1' 

''What's  this?  Meant  well?  *  I  don't 
comprehend. " 

Sonnenkamp  stared  at  him ;  the  whole 
city,  the  coachmen  on  the  streets  knew  it, 
and  can  this  man  be  ignorant  ?  Does  he 
want  to  gull  him  ? 

"  Have  you  read  the  Journal  ?  "  inquired 
Sonnenkamp. 

"  The  Journal !  No  ;  what's  in  that  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp   reached   him   the  paper. 

"  Here  —  my  diploma  of  nobility,"  he 
said,  turning  round  and  looking  out  of  the 
window  while  Pranken  was  reading.  He 
did  not  want  to  look  at  the  man's  counte- 
nance. 

There  was  a  long-continued  silence  in  the 
room,  and  then  Sonnenkamp  felt  a  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  He  turned  round  quick- 
ly. What's  the  meaning  of  this  ?  will  the 
haughty  young  nobleman  have  a  personal 
struggle  with  him  ? 

"Herr  Sonnenkamp,"  said  Pranken,  "I 
am  a  nobleman  " 

"I  know  —  I  know.  Take  your  hand 
off  of  me,  you'll  soil  it." 

"  And  I  am  your  friend,"  proceeded  Pran- 
ken calmly.  "  I  cannot  approve  of  what 
you  have  done  to  provoke  such  a  publica- 
tion." ' 


"Be  brief,  I've  already  heard  sermoniz- 
ing enough  to-day." 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  I  always  go  counter 
to  the,  public  sentiment;  I  respect  you,  not- 
withstanding, and  I  love  your  daughter.  I 
am  almost  glad  that  I  can  show  you  by  a 
sacrifice  how  my  intention  " 

"Herr  von  Pranken,  you  do  not  know 
what  you  are  doing.  Your  friends,  your 
family  " 

"I  know  the  whole.  Pooh!  the  virtuous 
people  may  let  the  stones  alone  which  they 
would  willingly  throw  at  us.  Whoever 
merely  winks  with  the  eye  shall  receive  my 
challenge." 

"  I  admire  your  courage,  but  I  cannot 
take  advantage  of  it." 

"  Not  take  advantage  of  it !  You  have 
no  right  to  decline  it.  I  am  your  son  as  well 
as  Roland  ;  I  stand  by  you,  and  now  it  shall 
be  shown  who  has  genuine  nobility  and 
bravery.  I  admire  you  —  but  we'll  drop 
this  now.    Has  Roland  got  back  vet  ?  " 

"No." 

"Then  he  has  gone  with  the  Ensign  to 
the  dinner.    I  will  go  for  him." 

Sonnenkamp  looked  at  him  in  amazement 
as  he  drove  olf ;  he  could  not  comprehend 
it.  He  was  now  alone  again.  He  mentally 
accompanied  the  messengers  he  had  sent 
round  the  city,  and  out  to  the  pleasure- 
grounds.  His  thought  went  out  in  search 
of  Roland,  but  did  not  find  him,  any  more 
than  fche  messengers  did.  Roland  had  gone 
with  the  Cabinetsrath's  son,  as  Pranken  had 
conjectured,  to  the  military  club-house, 
where  a  number  of  the  garrison  officers, 
after  the  laborious  review  of  the  forenoon, 
had  ordered  a  dinner.  There,  was  a  great 
deal  of  merriment  and  drinking,  and  they 
drank  the  young  American's  health.  Ro- 
land was  one  of  the  liveliest  among  them. 
There  came  in  a  straggling  guest,  and  cried 
out  in  the  midst  of  the  uproar,  — 

"Have  you  heard?  The  slave-trader 
has  been  caught  with  a  paper  lasso." 

"  What's  to  pay?  "  was  called  out. 

The  new-comer  read  out  of  the  paper :  — 

"A  proposal,  with  all  due  deference,  for 
a  coat  of  arms  and  a  device  for  the  enno- 
bled slave-trader  and  slave-murderer,  James 
Henry  Sonnenkamp,  alias  Banfield,  of 
Louisiana. 

"  It  would  give  us  peculiar  satisfaction  to 
run  a  parallel  between  the  young  nobility 
in  the  two  hemispheres ;  to  live  on  the 
labor  of  others  is  their  motto ;  4  thou  art 
born  to  do  nothing,'  say  the  young  nobility 
of  the  Old  as  well  as  of  the  New  World. 
The  Americans  have  also  a  superstitious 
belief  that  there  is  some  peculiar  honor  in 


430 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


being  ennobled.  Not  because  we  share  in 
this  belief,  but  rather  in  order  to  do  some- 
thing towards  removing  it,  we  have  written 
to  America  lor  information  about  a  certain 
Herr  Sonnenkamp.  We  have  hitherto 
been  silent,  and  we  should  have  been  silent 
longer  and  forever,  out  of  regard  for  the 
children  of  this  outcast,  for  they  do  not 
deserve  to  bear  the  load  of  guilt.  We  are 
no  friends  of  the  nobility  :  we  regard  this 
institution  as  of  the  past  and  as  dead ;  but 
the  nobles  are  our  German  fellow-citizens, 
also,  and  a  part  of  our  nation.  As  citizens, 
merely,  we  have  no  power  to  thrust  out  a 
man  from  our  community,  and  we  should 
have  felt  obliged  to  let  this  man  alone ;  but 
now,  we  are  ready  to  furnish  the  evidence 
that  the  man  who  calls  himself  Sonnenkamp, 
and  lives  at  Villa  Eden,  has  been  one  of 
the  most  merciless  slave-traders  and  slave- 
murderers.  Then  proceed,  O  German 
nobles,  and  ennoble  him,  — give  him  a  coat- 
of-arms.  The  heralds  of  our  editorial  office 
recommend  as  a  device  " 

"Stop!"  screamed  out  the  Ensign,  for 
Roland  had  fallen  senseless  from  his  chair. 

He  was  carried  out  of  the  room,  and  re- 
stored to  consciousness.  Fortunately,  a 
carriage  now  drove  up,  from  which  Pranken 
got  out.  Roland  was  lifted  into  it,  and 
they  drove  to  the  hotel. 

Shaking  with  a  fever  fit,  and  wrapped  up 
in  a  soldier's  cloak,  Roland  sat  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  carriage.  He  would  occasionally 
open  his  eyes,  and  then  close  them  again. 

Pranken  told  him  that  he  ought  to  despise 
the  world,  but  Roland  was  silent;  once  only 
he  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  exclaimed,  — 

"OEric  " 

They  reached  the  hotel.  Joseph  was 
waiting  before  the  door.  The  first  word 
that  Roland  spoke  was  a  request'  to  be  left 
alone.    He  went  up  the  steps  with  Joseph. 

"You  are  to  go  to  your  father,1' said 
Joseph. 

Roland  nodded,  but  when  he  had  gone 
up-stairs  he  hastened  to  his  room  and 
locked  the  door. 

Joseph  went  to  Sonnenkamp  and  told  him 
that  Roland  had  returned. 

"  lie  is  to  come  to  me,"  he  said. 

"  lie  has  locked  himself  in." 

"  I  las  he  his  pistols  with  him  ?  " 

"  No,  1  have  them  with  me." 

Sonnenkamp  went  to  Roland's  room  and 
knocked ;  but  there  was  no  answer.  He 
begged  and  entreated  Roland  to  answer 
him,  but  Roland  made  no  sound. 

"If  you  do  not  open  immediately.  I  will 
shoot  myself  before  your  door ! "  cried 
Sonnenkamp. 


Pranken,  who  was  with  him,  said:  — 

"  Roland  !  Roland  !  will  you  be  guilty  of 
the  death  of  your  father  ?  " 

"  Open  !  open  !  "  moaned  Sonnenkamp 
before  the  door. 

The  bolt  was  drawn  back,  and  Roland 
stood  rigid,  looking  at  his  father,  who 
stretched  out  his  arms  toward  him ;  but 
Roland  remained  motionless,  with  lips 
pressed  together,  and  eyes  glaring  like  one 
insane. 

"My  son!"  cried  Sonnenkamp.  "My 
only  son  !  my  beloved  son  !  my  child  !  for- 
give me  !  forgive  me  !  " 

Roland  rushed  toward  his  father,  grasped 
his  hand,  and  wept  over  it. 

"  Oh,  my  child,  your  tears  on  my  hand! 
Look, — this  wound,  this  scar,  —  look,  the 
tears  of  my  child  heal  it,  the  tears  of  my 
child  alone  ! " 

Throwing  himself  upon  Roland's  breast, 
he  exclaimed :  — 

"  You,  my  son,  you  will  not  despise  your 
father ! " 

While  he  spoke,  his  heart  throbbed 
violently,  and,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
Roland  saw  his  father  weep.  He  embraced 
him  and  wept  with  him. 

Father  and  son  then  sat  opposite  each 
other  speechless  and  motionless,  until  at 
last  Roland  said  : — 

"Father,  there  is  one  way  of  salvation  — 
only  one  way  of  salvation  !  " 

"  I  am  ready,  speak,  my  son." 

"  I  know  it,  father  —  I  know  it !  That 
sublimest  One  said  to  the  youth,  '  Go  and 
give  away  all  that  thou  hast,  and  follow  me.' 
And  Parker  has  said  that  this  disgrace  must 
be  wiped  out ;  and  Benjamin  Franklin  would 
say  :  '  Thou  art  free,  be  not  a  slave  to  thy- 
self!  '  Cast  all  away  from  you,  father,  let 
us  be  poor  —  poor  !    Will  you  ?  " 

"  I  thank  you,  my  son,"  replied  Sonnen- 
kamp ;  he  was  easier  when  he  saw  that  Ro- 
land had  relieved  his  feelings.  "  You  have 
a  stout  heart,  a  bold  spirit,  you  have  noble 
courage  ;  Herr  Eric  has  taught  you  well  — 
grand  —  brave  —  I  thank  him  —  I  thank  you 
—  that  is  fine  —  that  is  right  —  the  best !  " 

"  Then  you  agree  to  it,  father?  " 

"  My  son,  I  do  not  wish  to  make  any 
pledges  — not  any ;  but  I  promise  you, 
that  you  shall  be  satisfied  with  what  I  shall 
do  ;  just  in  this  moment  I  cannot  determine 
anything." 

"  No,  now  ;  this  very  moment!  it  is  the 
grandest,  the  only  moment  !  It  must  be 
done  now  !  After  this  moment  is  death, 
night,  damnation,  distraction,  misery  !  Oh, 
lather?  you  must  be  strong !  I  will  work  for 
you,  for  my  mother,  for  Manna,  for  myself! 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


And  Eric  will  be  with  us  !  I  know  not  what 
can  be  done,  but  it  will  do  cast  every- 
thing away  from  you  !  " 

"  My  son,  whatever  I  have  of  unright- 
eous possessions,  so  called,  those  I  will  put 
away.  I  consider  you,  my  son,  no  longer 
in  your  minority,  you  are  more,  you  are  my 
brother,  you  are  a  man,  you  are  judge  of 
my  actions,  you  are  to  give  your  directions 
—  everything  with  you,  through  you,  out 
of  your  pure,  your  blessed  heart,  out  of 
your  unbroken  —  yes,  your  friend  Eric, 
our  friend  Eric,  shall  also  determine  —  but 
let  us  not  come  to  the  final  determination 
at  this  moment.11 

And  again  father  and  son  sat  opposite  to 
each  other  in  silence,  until  Roland  began  : — 

"  Father,  let  us  go  home  to-day.11 

"  Xo,  not  to-day.  We  must  both,  first 
of  all,  get  some  strength.11 

Pranken  had  withdrawn  into  the  adjoin- 
ing room  ;  he  now  sent  Joseph  to  say  that 
it  was  time  for  dinner.  Roland  was  shocked 
at  the  idea  of  eating  anything  now ;  but 
Sonnenkamp  swore  that  he  would  not  put  a 
morsel  into  his  mouth,  although  he  was  al- 
most famishing,  if  Roland  did  not  sit  with 
them  at  table,  and  eat  at  least  a  few  mouth- 
fuls.    Roland  yielded. 

The  Cabinetsrath's  place  was  empty, 
showing,  what  henceforth  would  be  wanting 
to  their  table-enjoyment.  Pranken  beck- 
oned to  Joseph,  who  understood  what  he 
meant  and  quickly  removed  the  plate. 

Sonnenkamp  now  said  that  he  expected 
the  Cabinetsrath  would  probably  give  up 
the  Villa  he  had  received  ;  and  Roland  now 
learned  how  bribery  had  been  employed, 
and  how  corrupt  and  selfish  men  were. 
Sonnenkamp  took  particular  notice  what  an 
impression  this  made  upon  Roland,  and  a 
triumphant  expression  passed  over,  his 
countenance.  It's  well  so !  Roland  is  to 
become  acquainted  with  the  whole  baseness^ 
of  human  beings,  to  find  out  that  all  people 
are  more  or  less  abject,  and  then  what  his 
father  lias  done  will  gradually  seem  to  him 
of  less  account,  and  be  painted  in  fainter 
colors. 

A  choice  table  was  set,  but  the  three  ate 
as  if  they  were  at  a  funeral  repast,  with  the 
corpse  lying  in  the  next  room  —  the  mortal 
remains  of  worldly  honor.  Neither  gave  ex- 
pression to  the  feeling  which  each  of  them 
had ;  they  ate  and  drank,  for  the  body 
must  have  nourishment,  in  order  to  bear  up 
under  this  new  heart-ache-. 

Father  and  son  slept  in  the  same  cham- 
ber, but  neither  spoke,  for  neither  of  them 
wanted  to  keep  the  other  from  sleep,  which 
would  alone  wrap  them  in  oblivion. 

"  Don't  give  up!  "  said  Sonnenkamp  at 


last,  as  he  fell  asleep.  Roland  slept  also, 
but  after  an  hour  he  awoke  and  tossed 
about  restlessly.  The  darkness  seemed  to 
stand  like  a  black  wall  before  him,  and  he 
sat  up  as  if  in  delirium. 

To  lose  one's  senses,  one^  reason  —  yes, 
to  lose  them  !  they  are  suddenly  gone,  you 
know  not  when,  you  know  not  where ;  you 
only  know  they  are  not  here,  and  they  are 
no  longer  in  your  power."  But  if  you  could 
only  find  them !  Your  thoughts  are  no 
longer  under  youv  own  control;  they  come 
and  go,  they  combine  and  disperse  accord- 
ing to  their  own  pleasure  ;  and  yet  you  in- 
wardly feel  that  this  will  not  last,  it  cannot 
last ;  that  the  time  must  come  Nwhen  you 
will  once  more  have  the  mastery. 

"If  it  were  not  night!  if  it  were  only 
not  night !  "  groaned  Roland  to  himself,  as 
he  awakened  in  a  wandering  mood  from  a 
short  hour's  sleep.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  he  awoke  in  the  night  distressed  and 
sad  at  heart,  with  the  whole  world  dark  and 
impenetrable  before  him. 

"  Oh,  if  it  were  not  night !  if  it  only  were 
not  night! 11  he  said  to  himself  again.  He 
thought  of  what  Eric's  mother  had  once 
said  :  "In  the  night-time  everything  is  more 
terrible  ;  day  comes, .and  with  the  daylight 
all  sufferings,  both  of  the  body  as  well  as 
those  of  the  mind,  are  less  formidable  ;  the 
eye  then  looks  upon  the  things  of  the  world, 
and  the  sunlight  illumines  and  enlivens 
everything.1' 

"  It  will  be  day  again  ! 11  he  comforted 
himself  at  last,  and  sank  away  into  sleep 
out  of  all  his  brooding  fancies. 

Early  in  the  morning  they  started  with 
Pranken  for  the  Villa. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
SICK  AT  HEART. 

The  morning  air  was  fresh  and  cool. 
Bertram  was  not  on  the  box  of  the  carriage, 
but  a  hired  coachman  sat  next  to  Lootz. 
Roland  knew  the  horses,  and  wanted  to  take 
the  stranger's  place,  but  Sonnenkamp  said 
in  a  hoarse  voice  : — 

"No,  my  child,  don't  leave  me.  Sit  with 
me.    Stay  with  me.11 

Roland  obeyed,  and  took  a  seat  in  the 
close  carriage,  with  his  father  and  Pranken. 
They  drove  in  silence  through  the  city,  each 
thinking:  When,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances, will  you  ever  come  here  again  ? 
Roland  looked  out  as  they  were  passing  the 
pleasure-grounds,  where  in  the  summer  they 
had  excited  so  much  attention  at  the 
officers'  entertainment.  Withered  leaves 
were  lying  on  the  tables,  and  everything 
was  bare  and  desolate.    Sighing  and  shut- 


432 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ting  his  eves,  Roland  leaned  back  in  the 
corner  of  the  carriage.  The  bloom  of 
youth  had  laded  out  of  his  countenance 
over  night,  and  everything  was  wilted  like 
a  flower  touched  by  the  frost. 

They  drove  along,  for  a  time,  without 
speaking.  Roland,  however,  soon  heard  his 
father  making  himself  merry  over  the  un- 
adulterated rascality  of  mankind,  and  one 
and  another  person  who  were  generally 
spoken  of  with  respect  and  held  in  high 
estimation  were  spoken  of  as  hardly  fit  to 
associate  with  galley-slaves.  A  beginning 
was  made  with  the  Cabinetsrath,  who  had  al- 
lowed himself  to  be  bribed  in  such  a  way, 
and  yet  could  act  as  if  there  had  never  been 
anything  of  the  kind.  And  so,  in  succession, 
the  good  name  of  everybody  was  torn  into 
shreds. 

Pranken  let  Sonnenkamp  expend  his 
violence  and  rage,-  not  saying  a  word  even 
when  Clodwig  was  attacked.  What  was  the 
use  !  It  is  the  delight  of  one  suffering  un- 
der mortification,  above  all  one  who  is  suf- 
fering through  his  own  fault,  to  bring  down 
others  to  his  own  level.  Roland  was  deeply 
troubled,  and  his  heart  grew  cold  at  the 
thought  of  being  able  to  hold  his  own  posi- 
tion only  by  being  made  thoroughly  ac- 
quainted with,  and  keeping  constantly  be- 
f'or  his  eyes,  the  darker  side  of  all  human 
beings. 

Tenderly  and  cautiously,  Pranken  began 
to  bring  into  notice  the  idea  that  a  firm 
religious  belief  was  the  only  adequate  sup- 
port, and  he  openly  inveighed  against  those 
who  would  withdraw  this  support,  the  only 
real  one,  and  the  highest,  from  one  who  re- 
lied upon  it.  Roland  knew  that  Eric  was 
intended,  but  he  did  not  let  it  be  seen. 
Pranken  went  farther,  and  said  that  Eric's 
father,  whom  mother  and  son  decked  out  as 
a  demi-god,  was  a  man  who  at  the  univer- 
sity had  no  scholars,  and  at  whom  all  the 
learned  men  had  shrugged  their  shoulders. 

Gloomy  thoughts,  like  cloudy  forms, 
thronging  in  succession,  overcast  the  soul 
of  the  youth.  One  thought  prevailed  over 
all  others,  and  allowed  him  no  rest:  —  Yes- 
terday, honor  was  everything;  to-day,  it 
has  no'existence.  What  is  honor?  It  is 
the  seasoning  in  each  particle  of  life's  food, 
and  without  it  existence  is  tasteless.  This 
thought  startled  Roland  as  if  he  had  seen 
some  terrific  vision.  He  saw  the  clouds 
actually  before  him,  in  the  shape  of  dense 
volumes  of  smoke  from  Sonnenkam  p's 
cigar.  A  voice  cried  out,  in  mock-merri- 
ment, from  the  midst  of  the  cloud :  The 
people  in  the  whole  region  round  ought  to 
give  him  a  special  vote  of  thanks,  for  now 
they  were,  in  comparison  with  him,  snow- 


white  angels,  and  all  that  they  needed  was  a 
pair  of  wings.  All  the  little  men  and  little  wo- 
man could  say  :  _  Lord,  I  thank  thee  that  I 
am  not  like  this  Sonnenkamp  here.  "I 
am  truly  a  godsend  to  you ;  thank  me,  O 
world  ! " 

This  humor  pleased  Pranken,  and  he  said 
laughing,  that  no  one,  a  year  hence,  after 
one  had  become  accustomed  to  it,  would 
think  anything  of  the  present  troubles  ;  and 
he  would  urgently  entreat  that  not  a  word 
should  be  said  about  selling  the  villa  and 
moving  away. 

Sonnenkamp  gave  Pranken  a  nudge,  but 
he  had  no  idea  that  this  communication, 
although  it  gave  Roland  anew  the  feeling 
of  homelessness,  affected  him  far  less  than 
the  jeering  outburst  of  his  father  concerning 
the  thanks  due  him  from  the  world. 

A  disintegration  of  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  the  youth  had  taken  place,  and 
it  was  impossible  to  anticipate  what  changes 
might  be  brought  about  in  these  different 
elements  through  the  introduction  of  a  new 
agency.  A  feeling  had  been  awakened 
within  him,  that  he  must  bear  an  indelible 
stain  for  his  whole  lifetime. 

The  mists  dissolved,  the  day  was  bright, 
the  sun  shone  warmly,  but  Sonnenkamp  was 
chilly,  and  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak. 
He  sat  in  the  carriage,  staring  out  upon  the 
road,  but  he  saw  nothing  except  the  shadow 
of  one  of  the  horses,  and  this  shadow  was 
moving  its  legs  to  and  fro.  Is  everything 
only  a  shadow  in  like  manner  ?  Is  what 
moves  you  and  draws  you  onward  just 
such  a  shadow  as  this  ? 

A  vehicle  coming  towards  them  raised  a 
cloud  of  dust,  at  which  Sonnenkamp  stared. 
Whenever  you  look  at  this  dust,  you  feel 
as  if  you  must  be  smothered  by  it;  but  when 
you  are  in  the  midst  of  it,  turn  your  face 
away,  and  it  is  not  so  bad  after  all.  Per- 
haps what  has  now  happened  is  just  such  a 
whirling  cloud  of  dust.  Turn  your  face 
away. 

He  saw  the  shepherds  with  their  sheep 
upon  the  stubble-field,  and  asked  himself: 
Is  that  a  better  life  ?  He  wanted  to  sleep  ; 
he  threw  away  his  cigar  and  shut  his  eyes. 
It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  carriage  were  all 
the  time  going  down  hill.  But  when  he 
opened  his  eyes,  they  were  on  the  level 
road. 

Again  he  shut  his  eyes,  for  this  was  the 
only  way  he  could  be  alone. 

And  now  he  really  went  to  sleep.  Roland 
gazed  in  silence  out  into  the  bright  sunshine. 
Ah,  the  sight  of  nature  is  helpful  only  to 
the  joyous,  or  to  one  who  is  beginning  to 
rally  from  sorrow ;  she  brings  no  consola- 
tion to  the  heavy  laden  and  the  deeply 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


433 


saddened  spirit;  her  changelessness,  her 
unsympathizing  and  steadfast  life,  seem  al- 
most insulting. 

Up  to  this  time,  Roland  had  lived  in  that 
twilight  realm  which  separates  youth  from 
manhood,  and  n%w  the  period  of  youth  was 
closed.  His  pride  had  been  turned  to 
shame,  but  he  was  mature  enough  to  forget 
himself  soon,  and  to  direct  his  regards  to 
his  father,  who  is  doubly  unhappy ;  unhappy 
on  his  own  account,  and  on  account  of  hav- 
ing brought  harm  upon  others  — upon  those 
nearest  to  him. 

Sonnenkamp  slept ;  but  in  his  dreamy 
state  between  wakefulness  and  sleep,  the 
rattling  carriage-wheels  seemed  to  him  the 
clanking  chains  of  fettered  slaves. 

He  woke  suddenly,  and  stared  as  if  be- 
wildered. Where  was  he  ?  What  had 
happened  ?  He  wrapped  himself  in  his 
cloak  again,  and  hid  his  face. 

Pranken  bent  toward  Roland,  whispering 
to  him  :  — 

"  I  know  how  you  are  inwardly  shattered, 
but  there  is  one  cure  for  you,  a  grand  act, 
the  most  sublime  deed." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Speak  lower,  don't  wake  up  your  father. 
The  one  thing  for  you  to  do, — it  is  grand,  — 
the  great  and  noble  thing  for  you  is  to  enter 
the  Papal  army  ;  this  is  the  only  thing  to 
be  done.  This  is  the  last,  the  highest 
tower  to  be  defended  now,  and  if  that  falls, 
the  atheists  and  communists  have  won 
the  day.    I  would  do  it  myself,  if  " 

"  Yes,11  interrupted  Roland,  "  that 
would  be  the  thing !  We  give  away  all 
our  property  to  the  Holy  Father,  and  he 
issues  a  bull  in  favor  of  the  abolition  of 
slavery.11 

Sonnenkamp  could  not  keep  asleep  any 
longer. 

"  Tha^s  right,  my  young  fellow,11  he 
cried.  "  That's  right !  the  Pope  ought  to 
do  it.  But  do  you  believe  that  he  will  do 
now  for  money  —  even  were  it  ten  times  as 
much  —  what  he  has  not  done  of  himself? 
The  idea  is  a  grand  one,  Herr  von  Pranken, 
ver}'  grand  and  very  —  very  shrewd.11 

There  was  a  little  raillery  in  this  com- 
mendation, for  he  thought :  You  want  to  get 
the  whole  inheritance^  and  hand  over  my 
son  to  the  knife. 

"  But  my  dear,  noble,  high-aspiring 
young  friend,"  was  what  he  said  aloud, 
"  honestly,  do  you  believe  that  the  Pope 
will  do  what  our  Roland  expects  ?  " 

"No." 

They  drove  on  in  silence.  They  saw  the 
Villa  in  the  distance,  and  on  the  tower  the 
banner  of  the  American  Union  was  flying, ! 


together  with  the  green  and  yellow  flag  of 
the  country. 

When  they  came  to  the  green  cottage, 
Roland  asked  to  get  out  of  the  carriage, 
and  permission  was  given. 

Roland  went  into  the  garden,  where  a 
bright  voice  called  to  him  :  — 

"Mutual  congratulations!  we  congratu- 
late you,  and  you  should  congratulate  us, 
too  ;  we  are  betrothed." 

Lina  and  the  Architect  were  coming, 
holding  each  other's  hand,  through  the 
meadow  from  the  Villa.  Lina  left  her 
lover  and  came  up  to  Roland,  saying :  — 

"  We  didn't  want  to  wait  until  the  dedi- 
cation of  the  castle,  we  have  our  celebration 
by  ourselves.  Oh,  Roland,  how  beautiful 
and  how  happy  everything  is  in  the  world  ! 
But  why  don^  you  speak  ?  Why  do  you 
make  up  such  a  melancholy  face  ?  "  - 

Roland  could  only  wave  her  off,  and 
hurried  into  the  house.  The  betrothed  re- 
mained standing  in  the  garden,  sorely 
puzzled,  when  Lina  said  :  — 

"  Oh,  Albert,  there's  no  good  in  being 
here.  Nobody  welcomed  us  at  the  Villa, 
Manna  was  not  to  be  seen,  Herr  Dournay 
isn't  there,  and  Roland  runs  away.  Come, 
we'll  quit  the  whole  premises.  Forgive  me 
for  having  brought  you  here  before  going 
anywhere  else.  I  thought  these  were  the 
people  to  whom  I  should  make  known  my 
happiness  in  the  very  first  place.  Come, 
we'll  go  to  your  castle,  and  spend  the 
whole  day  for  once ;  you  shall  be  a  solitary 
knight,  and  I'll  be  a  castle-maiden.  Come, 
I  thought  there  was  to  be  a  betrothal  here 
to-day,  too ;  but  it  doesn't  look  like  it  at 
all,  and  there's  something  frightful  the 
matter." 

Lina  and  her  betrothed  went  together  to 
the  castle,  up  through  the  vineyard,  but 
they  were  detained  at  the  Major's,  who  was 
standing  utterly  helpless  by  the  garden- 
hedge. 

Such  a  thing  had  never  happened  as  took 
place  to-day. 

Fräulein  Milch  had  locked  herself  in  her 
room ;  she  must  have  met  with  something 
very  extraordinary. 

The  Major  was  perfectly  delighted  to 
hear  of  the  betrothal,  but  he  only  said :  — 

"  Ah,  there  might  be  one  down  therein 
the  Villa,  too;  but  I'm  afraid  —  I'm  afraid 
we'll  hear  some  bad  news  from  there." 

The  Major  insisted  upon  the  betrothed 
couple  taking  a  seat  in  his  arbor,  saying 
that  Fräulein  Milch  would  soon  be  down. 

The  Fraulein  was  sitting  in  her  chamber 
alone,  for  the  first  time  in  a  sore  struggle. 
The  world  had  been  a  matter  of  indifference 


434 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OX  TIIE  RHINE. 


to  her,  and  only  of  account  so  far  as  some- 
thing could  be  obtained  from  it  agreeable 
to  the  Major.  She  found  the  neighborhood 
very  friendly,  and  she  was  grateful  to  the 
soil,  for  the  Major  had  a  good  digestion, 
and  elsewhere  he  suffered  from  dyspepsia. 
She  was  also  grateful  to  the  Rhine*,  which 
occasionally  furnished  a  nice  fish,  and  she 
would  nod  to  the  mountains,  as  if  she  would 
say  :  That's  right !  just  produce  good  wine  ; 
the  Major  likes  to  drink  it  when  new,  but 
he  mustn't  drink  too  much  of  it.  Thus  was 
the  Fräulein  kindly  disposed  towards  man 
and  beast,  towards  water  and  plants ;  it 
was  a  matter  of  indifference  that  nobody 
troubled  himself  about  her.  She  had  stren- 
uously declined  every  intimate  connection, 
and  now,  through  the  Professorin,  she  had 
been  drawn  more  among  people,  and  had 
to-day  been  so  deeply  mortified.  She  had 
known  Bella  for  a  long  time,  although  very 
distantly,  and  she  had  disliked  her  for  a 
long  time,  although  very  distantly ;  but 
what  she  had  experienced  to-day  was  some- 
thing wholly  novel,  and  it  grieved  her 
sorely. 

"  0,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  O,  Frau 
Countess,  you  are  highly  virtuous,  virtuous 
invthe  extreme,  most  respectfully  virtuous, 
and  beautiful  too,  you  are ;  but  I  was  once 
young  and  beautiful,  and  no  one  has  ever 
ventured  to  give  me  an  uncivil  word ;  I 
have  gone  through  the  streets  unattended 
by  a  servant,  I  was  my  own  attendant,  my 
own  protector,  and  my  own  support.  O 
Fran  Countess,  you  stand  very  far  up  on 
the  list  of  rank,  I  don't  know  but  that  you 
ought  to  be  addressed  as  Your  Highness  ! 
O  Frau  Countess,  take  care,  there  is 
another  list  of  nobility  which  the  Major 
ought  to  give  you  a  glimpse  of ;  no,  not  he  ; 
it  would  mortify  him  to  death ;  but  Herr 
Dournay,  he  must  do  it.  No — nobody  — 
only  myself.1' 

And  just  as  she  had  become  composed, 
the  Major  again  knocked,  crying  :  — 

"Fraulein  Milch!  dear  good  Rosa,"  he 
added  in  a  whisper,  "  Rosie,  Rosalie!  ' 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  the  Major  heard 
laughingly  asked. 

"  Oli  heavens!  it's  all  right  now  you  are 
laughing  again.  There  are  two  good  peo- 
ple here,  the  Architect,  and  Lina  the  Jus- 
tice's daughter;  they  are  betrothed,  and 
have  come  to  receive  our  congratulations. 
Do  come,  join  us  in  the  garden,  and  bring 
right  off  a  bottle  and  four  glasses.11 

Fräulein  Milch  opened  the  door.  The 
Major  asked :  — 

"  Mayn't  I  know  what  has  been%  the  mat- 
ter'wiih  you  ?  " 

"You  shall  know,   sure   enough,  but 


don't  ask  me  any  more  now.  So  the 
young  people  are  betrothed,  and  at  the 
house  ?  I  must  dress  myself  up  a  little, 
and  I'll  come  down  immediately." 

"So  do.    That's  nice." 

Friiulein  Milch  was  delivered  from  all 
her  own  trouble,  when  the  duty  was  en- 
joined upon  her  of  rejoicing  with  the  joyful ; 
and  the  betrothed  couple  forgot  the  castle, 
and  remained  for  hours  sitting  with  the 
Major  and  Friiulein  Milch  in  the  arbor. 

Then  the  journal  .came,  and  the  Major 
begged  to  bo  excused  for  reading  it  before 
his  guests  ;  he  received  the  paper  after  the 
burgomaster,  the  school-master,  and  the 
barber  had  read  it,  and  so  he  could  keep 
it.  As  he  had  nothing  more  .to  do  with  the 
world,  it  made  no  difference  whether  he 
learned  an  hour  or  two  sooner  or  later  what 
had  happened. 

"  Oh,  here's  a  great  black  mark,"  ex- 
claimed Lina. 

"That's  the  burgomaster's  mark,"  said 
the  Major.  "  Friiulein  Milch,  would  you 
read  to  me  ?  There  must  be  something 
very  special." 

The  Friiulein  took  the  paper,  but  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hand  after  she 
had  looked  into  it. 

"What's  the  matter?  You  read,  dear 
Lina." 

Lina  read  the  bitter  paragraph  by  Pro- 
fessor Crutius ;  she  wanted  to  stop  after 
the  first  few  lines,  but  the  Major  begged : 

"  Read  on  ;  do  read  on." 

She  read  on  to  the  end. 

"  O  Thou  really  good  Builder  of  all  the 
worlds,  what  queer  material  you've  put  into 
the  construction  of  the  world !  Good 
heavens  !  there's'  something  frightful  about 
a  newspaper ;  now  everybodv  knows  about 
this." 

Friiulein  Milch  was  just  on  the  point  of 
saving  that  this  was  no  news  to  her,  but 
she  had  the  self-command,  doubly  difficult 
for  a  woman,  to  keep  from  telling  what  she 
knew.  It  was  better  to  say  nothing,  as  she 
would  thus  escape  a  long  explanation  to 
the  Major  why  she  had  said  nothing  about 
it  a  long  time  ago.  Not  till  the  Major 
begged  herto'go  to  the  Professorin,  who 
would  be  greatly  troubled  by  this  communi- 
cation, did  she  say  :  — 

"The  Professorin,  as  well  as  I,  knew  it  a 
long  time  ago." 

In  his  bewilderment,  the  Major  did  not 
ask  how  it  happened  that  she  knew;  he 
only  opened  his  eyes  wider.  He  had  said 
to  her  a  great  many  good  and  kind  things, 
but  the  best  of  all  was  when  he  observed  :  — 

"  Yes.  You  might  belong  to  our  Broth- 
erhood, you  can  keep  a  secret." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


435 


After  a  while  the  Major  continued :  — 

"  Look,  children,  down  below  there  is 
the  wonderfully  beautiful  Villa  with  its 
parks,  its  gardens,  and  with  its  haillions  in- 
side the  "house  —  ha  !  and  Roland  and 
Manna.  Fräulein  Milch,  don't  try  to  pre- 
vent me.  I  must  go  down  there,  for  no- 
body knows  what's  going  on  there,  and  I 
must  do  something  to  help  them.  Don't 
say  anything  against  it,  Fräulein  Milch,  I 
entreat  you.'1 

"  I  haven't  said  anything  to  hinder  you  ; 
on  the  contrary,  I  think  you  ought  to  go.11 

Before  she  had  finished  speaking,  a  mes- 
senger came  from  the  Villa  for  the  Major 
to  go  there. 

Lina  wanted  to  join  him,  thinking  she 
might  be  of  some  assistance  to  Manna ;  but 
the  Major  said  that  the  Professorin  and 
Aunt  Claudine  were  enough  already,  and 
Lina  ought  not  to  spoil  now  any  of  her  hap- 
piness. 

Just  as  the  Major  was  about  to  set  off,  a 
voice  cried :  — 

"  Herr  Major,  just  stop.    I'm  coming." 

With  flushed  face,  and  out  of  breath, 
Knopf  came  up. 

"Do  you  know  it?"  asked  the  Major. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  that's  the  reason  I've 
come.  Perhaps  I  can  do  something  at  the 
Villa." 

"Good!  I'm  going,  so  come  with  me. 
No,  you  stay  here,  stay  with  the  Fräulein. 
I'll  have  you  sent  for  if  you're  needed." 

And  so  the  Major  walked  down  the 
mountain,  and  the  four  who  remained  fol- 
lowed him  with  affectionate  looks. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE    TRIUMPH  OF  THE  OPPRESSED. 

Roland  entered  the  cottage,  and  found 
the  Professorin,  Eric,  and  Manna  in  grave 
conversation  together ;  they  had  imparted 
the  dreadful  secret  to  each  other,  and  what 
weighed  the  most  heavily  upon  them  was 
the  thought  how  Roland  would  bear  it  when 
he  should  learn  of  it.  He  now  came  in  and 
said :  — 

"  Manna,  we  arc  disgraced  children  !" 

The  three  hastened  to  him,  and  affection- 
ately embraced  and  kissed  him. 

"  Be  strong,  brother  !  "  said  Eric,  throw- 
ing his  arms  around  him.  "  I  can  blow  you 
strong,  my  brother." 

Hiawatha's  saying  echoed  in  Roland's 
soul,  and  he  looked  around  on  all  sides,  as 
if  bewildered.  He  sat  down  speechless  on 
a  chair,  and  the  three  dear  to  him  sat  in  si- 
lence near  him. 

Sonnenkamp,  meanwhile,  had  got  out  at 
the  entrance  of  the  park,  and  walked  to- 


wards the  villa;  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the 
ground  would  give  way  under  his  feet,  and 
the  house  and  trees  vanish.  Are  you  sick? 
he  asked  himself.  You  are  not  to  be  sick  ! 
He  whistled  softly  to  himself;  his  gigantic 
strength  still  held  out. 

Here  everything  is  as  it  was,  and  you 
yourself  are  here,  too,  he  said,  exerting  a 
powerful  control  over  himself,  as  he  stood 
upon  his  property  and  grounds.  He  seemed 
to  be  wrestling  with  a  hostile  world  en- 
listed against  him,  and  he  repelled  the  en- 
compassing foes  with  heroic  strength ;  they 
should  not  cut  off  the  sources  of  his  con- 
fidence and  power.  He  felt  himself  well 
armed  and  equipped.  Pranken  is  right ; 
one  must  not  let  himself  be  cowed,  one  must 
bid  defiance  to  the  world,  and  then  it  will 
bow  itself  in  humility,  and  in  a  year  —  no, 
much  sooner,  all  will  come  and  flatter  him. 

He  remained  standing  on  the  steps,  hold- 
ing on  by  the  railing,  for  all  his  strength 
seemed  exhausted ;  but  drawing  a  deep 
breath,  and  plucking  up  his  courage,  as  it 
were,  he  soon  recovered  his  self-possession. 
He  looked  about  without  constraint,  he  had 
become  so  accustomed  to  feigning,  that  he 
was  determined  no  one  should  see  in  him 
any  trace  of  disturbance. 

He  went  up  the  steps  with  a  firm  and 
steady  stride.  He  took  Pran ken's  arm,  and 
told  him  in  a  candid  tone  how  highly  he 
esteemed  him  and  admired  his  strength,  of 
which  he  already  felt  the  elfect  in  himself. 

He  went  with  Pranken  to  his  room,  nod- 
ding to  everything  which  still  held  its  place 
here,  and  should  hold  it  firmly  for  the  time 
to  come.  He  requested  his  son  —  so  he 
called  Pranken  — his  son,  of  whom  he  was 
proud,  to  impart  what  had  happened  to 
Frau  Ceres,  the  very  first  thing,  in  his  quiet 
and  self-possessed,  his  easy,  his  all-subdu- 
ing manner  that  he  so  much  admired. 

"  Make  no  reply  if  she  storms.  This 
stormy  outburst  is  no  longer  formidable." 

In  this  declaration  there  was  a  sort  of 
tranquillizing  influence  which  Sonnenkamp 
himself  felt.  It  is  better  that  the  whole 
world  should  stand  up  in  arms  against  him, 
than  to  be  forever  and  forever  under  the 
dominion  of  this  crafty,  threatening,  and 
annoying  woman.  Now  her  weapon  was 
gone,  and  the  dagger  whieh  she  had  always 
kept  hidden  was  now  unsheathed  in  the  eyes 
of  all  the  world,  and  was  in  every  hand. 

Pranken  went  to  Frau  Ceres  ;  he  had  to 
wait  a  long  time  in  the  ante-room,  but  at 
last  Fräulein  Perini  came  out. 

Pranken  briefly  told  her  that  the  secret 
she  had  confided  to  him,  and  which  he  had 
kept  so  faithfully,  was  now  made  public. 

"So  soon?"  said  Fräulein  Perini;  and 


436 


THE  COUNTßY-IIOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


when  Pranken  inquired  how  Frau  Ceres 
•would  be  likely  to  receive  the  annihilation 
of  her  hopes  of  being  ennobled,  and  the 
whole  detestable  uproar  in  the  world,  she 
replied,  smiling,  that  she  could  not  tell,  for 
Frau  Ceres  was  now  suffering  under  a  ter- 
rible trial  of  a  wholly  different  kind. 

She  could  hardly  go  on, '  she  was  so 
choked  with  laughter,  but  finally  it  came 
out. 

Yesterday  morning,  Frau  Ceres  in  some 
incomprehensible  way  had  broken  off  her 
most  beautiful  nail,  a  real  prodigy  of  most 
careful  cherishing,  and  she  was  utterly  in- 
consolable. 

Pranken  could  not  help  joining  in  the 
laugh.  He  accompanied  Fraulein  Perini 
into  the  room. 

Frau  Ceres  gave  him  her  left  hand  to 
kiss,  holding  the  right  carefully  concealed. 
She  asked  whether  Pranken  had  brought 
with  him  the  armorial  device,  and  pointed 
to  an  embroidery  frame  on  which  she  want- 
ed at  once  to  work  the  coat-of-arms,  and 
also  to  an  altar-cloth,  whose  border  was 
already  completed. 

Pranken  now  broke  the  news  to  her  in  a 
very  careful  manner. 

"And  he  always  said  I  was  stupid!  I 
am  cleverer  than  he,"  Frau  Ceres  burst  out; 
"I  always  told  him  that  Europe  was  no 
place  for  us,  and  that  we  ought  to  have 
remained  where  we  were.  Hasn't  he  caught 
it  now  ?  He's  ashamed  to  come  himself, 
and  so  he  has  sent  you.  He's  ashamed, 
because  I,  the  simpleton,  who  had  never 
learned  anything,  knew  the  affair  so  much 
better  than  he  did." 

In  this  first  moment,  a  mischievous  joy 
seemed  to  be  Frau  Ceres'  predominant  feel- 
ing ;  the  man  who  had  always  treated  her 
as  a  feeble  plaything  must  now  see  that  her 
ideas  were  more  correct  than  his. 

She  sat  long  in  silence,  moving  her  lips, 
and  with  a  scornful,  exultant  expression,  as 
if  she  were  uttering  to  her  husband  all  her 
present  thoughts.    Pranken  thought  it  in- 


cumbent on  him  to  add,  that  in  a  short  time 
the  family  would  be  as  much  respected  as 
before. 

"  Do  vou  believe  that  we  shall  be  enno- 
bled then  ?  " 

Pranken  was  perplexed  what  reply  to 
make,  for  it  seemed  as  if  the  woman  did  not 
yet  comprehend  what  had  happened.  He 
evaded  a  direct  answer,  and  only  said  that 
he  remained  true  to  the  family,  and  regarded 
himself  as  a  son  of  the  house.  , 

"  Yes,  to-morrow  ought  to  be  the  wed- 
ding. Here  in  Eutope,  you  have  so  many 
formalities.  I'll  drive  to  church  with  you. 
But  where's  Manna?  She  has  horribly 
neglected  me." 

"  But,  my  dear  Baron,  it  is  well,  this  con- 
nection with  the  tutor's  family  will  now 
come  to  an  end.  Don't  let  it  continue  any 
longer,  dear  Baron." 

She  requested  Fräulein  Perini  to  tell 
Manna  to  come  to  her. 

Pranken  could  not  comprehend  how  this 
woman,  half  childish,  half  cunning,  some- 
times malicious,  sometimes  peevish,  could 
be  -also  sometimes  so  affectionate ;  but 
there  was  no  time  now  to  try  to  solve 
the  riddle.  He  besought  the  Mother  —  such 
was  the  appellation  he  now  gave  to  Frau 
Ceres  —  to  leave  Manna  alone  for  a  few 
days ;  he  would  first  see  her  alone,  and 
then'  they  would  come  together  to  the  mother 
and  ask  her  blessing. 

"  I  give  you  my  blessing  now,"  said  Frau 
Ceres,  forgetting  herself  so  far  as  to  give 
him  both  hands. 

She  told  him  that  Bella  had  been  there, 
and  had  hardly  shown  herself  to  her:  that 
she  had  come,  and  then  had  driven  away 
again  in  a  manner  that  she  couldn't  com- 
prehend at  all. 

Here  a  shot  was  heard. 

"He  has  shot  himself;  he  has  done  it 
now !  "  cried  Frau  Ceres,  in  a  singular  tone ; 
it  was  not  lamentation,  nor  laughter,  but 
something  peculiar,  utterly  inexplicable. 

Pranken  hurried  away. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


437 


CHAPTER  IX. 
THE  HAND-WRITING  ON  THE  WALL. 

SONNENKAMP  had  seated  himself  in  his 
room,  and  the  letter-bag  lay  before  him, 
but  he  did  not  open  it.  What  matters  it 
what  the  outside  world  desired !  One 
thought  was  uppermost,  that  he  must  do 
something,  something  startling,  something 
that  would  shatter  the  whole  world  to  pieces. 
What?  He  did  not  yet  know.  He  sat 
speechless  in  the  midst  of  the  fairest  land- 
scape, with  the  windows  darkened,  as  in  a 
cellar. 

No,  not  harm  thyself,  that  wouldn't  do! 
anything  but  weakness,  cried  he  to  him- 
self. Why  be  afraid  of  this  old  sentimental 
spinster,  Europe,  with  her  fine  modes  of 
speech !  What  hast  thou  done  ?  Thou 
hast  acted  with  due  reflection,  and  thou 
standest  by  what  thou  hast  done.  It  is  well 
that  there's  nothing  more  to  conceal,  that 
everything  is  known. 

He  rose  and  went  into  the  park.  From  a 
lofty  acacia-tree  one  of  the  main  branches 
was  hanging  down,  which  had  been  broken, 
so  that  the  tree  was  like  a  bird  that  had  lost 
one  of  its  wings.  The  head-gardener  told 
Sonnenkamp  that  a  gust  of  wind  had  swept 
over  the  park  the  night  before.  Sonnen- 
kamp nodded  several  times  as  he  looked  at 
the  tree,  and  then  indulged  in  his  inaudible 
whistle. 

A  gust  of  wind  may  break  down  a  tree 
like  this,  but  a  man  like  him  stands  firm. 

He  went  farther  on,  and  coming  to  the 
fruit-garden,  saw  the  splendid  show  of  fruit 
upon  the  trees ;  glass  bell-shaped  vessels, 
filled  with  water,  were  hung  by  wires  un- 
derneath the  different  fruits,  so  that  they 
might  be  continually  supplied  with  moisture, 
and  be  made  to  grow.  All  this  you  can 
effect;  you  can  direct  nature,  why  not  man? 
why  not  destiny  ?  He  gazed  at  the  huge 
fruits  as  if  they  could  give  him  an  answer, 
but  they  remained  dumb.  He  stood  for  a 
long  time  before  one  tree,  that  had  been 
trained  to  the  shape  of  a  coronet,  and  stared 
at  the  branches. 

In  a  spider's-web  stretched  between  two 
twigs  a  fly  was  struggling — whew  !  how 
convulsively  it  struggled  !  perhaps  it  moan- 
ed also,  but  we  couldn't  hear  it.  Yes, 
high  and  noble  fly,  you  have  a  fate  no  dif- 
ferent from  that  of  the  human  fly.  Every- 
where spiders — yes,  spiders!  And  you  are 
better  off,  you  will  be  speedily  eaten. 

Sonnenkamp  struck  his  forehead  with  his 
clenched  fist :  he  was  angry  with  his 
brain,  that  led  him  into  such  subtile  specula- 
tions. 


He  turned  away  and  went  back  to  his 
room.  The  best  thing  you  can  do,  he  said 
to  himself,  is  to  make  a  speedy  exit ;  then 
are  your  children  free,  and  you  are  free 
too.  He  took  a  revolver  from  the  wall 
just  as  some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  What's  the  matter?  what  do  you 
want?  "  A  groom  gave  his  name,  and  Son- 
nenkamp opened  the  door.  The  groom  in- 
'  formed  him  that  his  black  horse  ffcttled  in 
the  throat  and  foamed  at  the  mouth ;  that 
he  was  sick,  and  they  could  not  tell  what 
ailed  him. 

"  Indeed  ?  "  cried  Sonnenkamp.  "  Have 
you  not  walked  the  horse  out  for  exercise  ? 
Has  any  one  ridden  him  ?  " 

"Yes;  the  Herr  Captain  ordered  the 
horse  to  be  saddled  the  night  before,  and 
was. a  long  time  gone  with  him.1' 

"  So !  Come,  111  cure  him  speedily." 
He  went  down  to  the  stable,  looked  grimly 
at  the  horse,  and  then  shot  him  through  the 
head.  The  horse  gave  one  hoarse  rattle, 
and  fell  headlong. 

"So!  it's  all  over  now!  cried  Son- 
nenkamp.   44 Now  you  are  free!  " 

As  he  was  leaving  the  stable,  Pranken 
came  up. 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  " 

"  Pooh  !  I've  shot  a  horse,  and  every  one 
who  doesn't  mind,"  he  said  in  a  loud  tone, 
so  that  all  the  servants  might  hear,  "  knows 
what  to  expect." 

He  ordered  the  groom  to  saddle  another 
horse. 

Joseph  came  with  the  inquiry  from  Frau 
Ceres  as  to  what  had  happened. 

Sonnenkamp  sent  word  to  Frau  Ceres 
that  he  had  shot  the  black  horse.  He 
smiled  when  he  heard  Pranken's  report  of 
his  wife's  state  of  feeling ;  he  avoided  going 
to  her,  and  he  experienced  a  sort  of  grate- 
ful joy  towards  destiny,  that  the  large  house 
rendered  it  possible  for  each  of  the  inmates 
to  live  by  himself. 

He  went  to  see  the  Professorin ;  it  was 
hard  for  him  to  meet  her  eye  and  that  of 
Eric,  but  it  must  be  done ;  he  must  arm 
himself  to  look  all  men  boldly  in  the  face. 
Was  he  a  coward  ?  had  he  not  bid  defiance 
to  the  world,  and  was  he  now  to  be  afraid 
of  this  tutor's  family  ? 

He  entered  the  green  cottage.  He  ex- 
tended his  hand  neither  to  Eric  nor  his 
mother,  and  only  asked  where  the  children 
were.  He  received  the  answer  that  they 
had  locked  themselves  in  the  library. 

He  said  in  a  light  way  to  Eric  and  his 
mother  that  he  had  been  especially  desi- 
rous for  them  to  know  the  whole  ;  it  would 
now  be  seen  who  was  faithful.  Turning  to 
Eric,  he  said  :  — > 


438 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  I  have  shot  the  black  horse,  which  you 
rode  last  night.    What  is  mine  is  mine." 

He  went  quietly  away ;  he  stood  some 
time  near  the  library  door,  and  heard  Ro- 
land and  Manna  talking,  but  without  distin- 
guishing a  word. 

He  knocked  twice,  but  there  was  no  an- 
swer, and  he  turned  away.  Returning  to  the 
villa,  and  mounting  a  horse,  he  rode  to  the 
Cabinetsratlfs  villa,  for  he  wished  to  give 
these  people  a  piece  of  his  mind.  And  as 
he  was  riding  along,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
the  groom  "behind  him  suddenly  reined  up, 
and  then  as  if  there  were  two  following  him. 
Who  is  this  unknown  companion  ?  He 
forced  himself  not  to  look  round.  The 
horse  trembled  under  the  pressure  of  his 
legs.  He  reached  the  country-house  of  the 
Cabinetsrath,  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  asked 
after  the  minister's  wife. 

The  gardener  said  that  she  was  not  there, 
and  that  she  would  not  be  there  any  more. 

What  does  this  mean  ?  He  laughed 
aloud  when  he  was  informed  that  the  villa, 
with  all  its  appurtenances,  had  been  sold 
the  day  before  to  the  American  consul  at 
the  capital.  He  is  outwitted  ;  these  peo- 
ple are  his  neighbors  no  longer,  and  there 
can  nothing  be  said  about  demanding  back 
the  property  bought  at  a  merely  nominal 
sum.  And  after  the  first  flush  of  anger, 
Sonnenkamp  experienced  a  peculiar  satis- 
faction in  the  thought  that  there  were  so 
many  sagacious  people  in  the  world ;  it  is  a 
pleasant  thing  that  there  are  so  many  foxes 
and  lynxes  to  be  found  everywhere,  and 
und»er  their  own  particular  masks. 

A  court-lackey  rode  up.  Sonnenkamp 
reined  in.  Could  it  be  possible  that  they 
repented  and  were  sending  a  courier  after 
him  ? 

"  Where  are  you  going?"  he  asked  of 
the  court-lackey  as  he  stopped. 
"To  Villa  Eden." 
' '  To  whom  ?  " 

"To  the  Professorin  Dournay." 
"  Might  I  ask  who  sends  you,  and  what 
your  errand  is  ?  " 
"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  what's  the  errand?" 

"  The  Professorin  was  formerly  a  lady  in 
waiting  on  the  gracious  mother  of  the 
Prince,  and  the  gracious  Princess  was  very 
fond  of  her." 

~  Very  well,  very  well.    And  now  ?  " 

"  Well,  now,  the  Professorin  is  living 
there  with  a  horrible  man  who  has  deceived 
the  whole  world,  and  is  a  slavetrader,  and 
one's  life  isn't  safe  there  a  single  minute, 
and  now  the  gracious  Princess  sends  me 
there,  and  I  am  to  say  to  the  Professorin  — 


and  if  she  will,  to  take  her  along  with  me 
at  once  —  that  she  can  be  delivered  from  this 
monster." 

The  lackey  was  astonished  to  see  the  man 
who  had  questioned  him  ride  away  without 
speaking  another  word. 

Sonnen^amp  boiled  with  rage ;  but  he 
shortly  laughed  out  loud  again. 

"That's  all  right!  afraid, — the  whole 
world  is  afraid  of  him.  This  confers 
strength ;  this  is  far  better  than  the  silly 
honor,  with  which  one  must  behave  him- 
self." 

He  felt  a  profound  contempt  for  those  in 
high  station.  Now  they  take  up  the  neg- 
lected widow,  now,  —  why  not  before  ? 

He  rode  to  the  castle.  Here  were  the 
laborers  who  were  erecting  a  wing  of  the 
building;  they  saluted  their  employer  with 
evident  reluctance.  Sonnenkamp  smiled ; 
at  any  rate,  they  had  to  salute  him.  He 
would  have  liked  to  get  the  whole  world  to- 
gether, in  order  to  look  it,  once  for  all,  de- 
fiantly in  the  face. 

He  rode  to  the  Major's.  Fräulein  Milch 
was  standing  at  the  window,  and  before  he 
said  anything,  she  called  down  :  — 

"  The  Herr  Major  is  not  at  home."  And 
now  he  turned  homeward. 

When  he  came  to  the  garden-wall,  he 
noticed  some  large  letters,  and  riding  near- 
er, he  saw  written  in  many  different  ways : 
Slave-trader  !  Slave-murderer  !  An  artist, 
with  no  very  practised  hand,  had  drawn  the 
picture  of  a  gallows  on  which  a  figure  was 
hanging  with  protruding  tongue,  and  on 
the  tongue  was  the  word  Slave-trader  !  He 
ordered  the  porter  to  keep  better  watch, 
and  to  shoot  down  the  insolent  fellows  who 
should  do  any  such  thing. 

The  porter  said  :  — 

"  I'll  not  shoot ;  I  shall  leave  the  service 
on  St.  Martin's  day,  anyhow." 

Sonnenkamp  rode  back  toward  the  green 
cottage ;  he  wanted  to  take  away  his  chil- 
dren, and  he  wanted  to  tell  the  Professorin 
not  to  give  any  more  charity  to  the  rabble 
that  dared  to  write  such  words  on  the  white 
wall  of  his  garden.  But  he  turned  about 
again.  The  best  way  would  be  to  take  no 
notice  of  it. 

Panting  with  rage  he  returned  to  his 
room,  arid  he  wondered  at  the  thought 
which  came  over  him,  that  this  house  was 
his  own  no  longer ;  every  one  in  the  neigh- 
borhood was  thronging  in,  scoffing,  pitying, 
and  he  was  living,  as  it  were,  in  the  street, 
for  every  one  was  speaking  about  him,  and 
he  could  not  help  himself.  He  stamped 
his  foot  on  the  floor. 

"Here  'tis!  You  wanted  honor, — you 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


439 


wanted  to  be  talked  about,  and  now  they 
do  talk,  —  but  bow  ?  I  despise  the  whole 
of  you  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

He  turned  over  all  manner  of  plans  in  his 
mind,  how  he  should  get  the  better  of  the 
world.  But  what  was  there  that  he  could 
do  ?   He  could  not  hit.  upon  anything. 

chapter  x. 
Roland's  moan. 

Roland  and  Manna  sat  in  the  library, 
holding  each  other's  hand ;  they  were  like 
two  children  who  had  taken  refuge  from  the 
storm  in  a  strange  hut.  For  a  long  time  they 
were  unable  to  speak.  Manna  was  the  first 
to  gain  composure,  and  in  a  tone  of  forced 
cheerfulness,  passing  her  hand  over  her 
brother's  face,  she  said  :  — 

"Do  you  know  the  story  of  the  little 
brother  and  the  little  sister?  They  lost 
themselves  in  the  wood,  and  then  found  their 
way  home  again.  And  we  are  like  two  chil- 
dren in  the  wild  forest.  But  we  are  children 
no  longer ;  you  are  grown  up,  you  are 
strong,  you  must  be  so." 

"Oh,  don't  speak,"  replied  Roland, 
"  every  word  goes  through  my  brain,  even 
the  sound  of  your  voice.  O  sister !  no, 
there's  none  like  it !  Do  you  think  in  all 
these  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  books 
there's  one  single  fate  like  ours?  No,  there 
can't  be." 

After  a  longer  interval,  Manna  again 
began : — 

"  Now  I  can  tell  you  what  I  meant,  when 
I  said  that  I  would  be  an  Iphigenia ;  I 
wanted  to  sacrifice  myself  for  you  all,  in 
order  to  take  the  expiation  from  you." 

"Oh,  don't  speak.  What  do  these 
stories  of  the  children  in  the  wood,  of 
Orestes  and  Iphigenia,  have  to  do  with  us  ? 
Orestes  was  happy,  he  could  consult  the 
gods  at  Delphi ;  at  that  time  the  gods 
could  be  offended  and  appeased ;  they  were 
obliged  to  give  a  response  — but  now  ?  we  ? 
Where,  in  these  times,  is  there  a  single 
mouth  which  gives  a  response  in  the  name 
of  the  gods  ?  The  Greeks  had  slaves  too  ; 
and  we  ?  Now  they  tell  us  that  love  has 
come  into  the  world,  and  that  all  men  are 
the  children  of  God  !  Is  this  love  ?  And 
the  priests  blessed  the  marriage  of  a  man 
who  held  slaves  —  children  of  God  äs  slaves, 

—  and  they  baptized  these  children,  letting 
them  still  be  slaves !  Alas !  I'm  getting 
crazed !  O,  my  youth  !  O,  my  youth  ! 
Alas !  I  am  still  so  young,  and  I 
must    bear  for    a  long,   long  life-time 

—  must  bear  this  —  everything!  There's 
a  blackness  before  my  eyes,  a  spot  upon 
everything   I  see  —  all  is  black  —  black! 


At  the  time  when  Claus  was  imprisoned 

—  Children  do  not  suffer  for  the  crime 
of  their  father ;  they  can  have  no  part  in 
it,  but  they  do  suffer  from  it  a  whole  life- 
time.   Where  is  justice  —  help  me,  sister! 

—  do  help  me  !  " 
"I  cannot,  I  do  not  comprehend.it  !  O, 

it  was  that  drove  me  out  of  the  sanctuary ! 
I  don't  comprehend  it !  " 

The  brother  and  sister  sat  together  in 
silence,  until  Roland  suddenly  threw  him- 
self into  Manna's  arms,  and  hiding  his  head 
on  her  bosom,  said  :  — 

"  Manna,  I  wanted  to  kill  myself,  I  could 
not  bear  it.  Yesterday,  everything  so 
beautiful  —  and  here  on  your  heart  I  cry — I 
must  live  —  I  don't  know  what  I  am  to  do 

—  I  must  live  !  Were  the  children  to  kill 
themselves  for  their  parent's  guilt,  that 
guilt  would  be  made  still  greater." 

Again  Roland  leaned  his  head  on  the  arm 
of  the  sofa,  murmuring  to  himself :  — 

"He  did  not  carry  it  out  at  once,  and 
now  it  will  never  be  done." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Manna. 
Roland  gave  her  a  glassy  stare,  but  he  kept 
it  to  himself  that  he  had  exhorted  his  father 
to  put  away  all  his  property,  and  that  the 
father  had  led  him  to  believe  it  should  be 
done ;  but  now  he  seemed  to  see  clearly 
that  nothing  of  the  kind  would  ever  take 
place.  He  closed  his  eyes,  opened  them 
again,  and  lay  there  paralyzed  as  in  an 
awful  void,  everything  crushed  and  shat- 
tered within  him. 

Manna  understood  how  he  felt,  and 
kneeling  by  the  sofa,  she  cried :  — 

"Roland,  I  have  a  great  secret  to  tell 

you  ;  Eric  and  I  " 

"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  Roland,  sitting  up- 
right. 

"  Eric  and  I  are  betrothed." 
"  You  ?  you  two  ?  " 

He  sprang  up,  pressed  her  in  his  arms, 
exclaiming  again :  — 
' '  You  ?  you  two  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Roland  ;  and  he  has  known  every- 
thing for  a  long  time." 

"He  has  known  everything?  And  he 
has  not  rejected  you  with  disdain?  —  and 
he  has  instructed  me  so  faithfully  ?  —  Oh  !  " 

Roland  and  Manna  held  each  other  in  a 
long  embrace.  There  was  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  they  separated,  looking  at  each 
other  in  dismay.  They  knew  it  was  their 
father's  knock,  but  neither  of  them  said  so. 
There  was  another  rap,  and  they  still  were 
silent.  Retreating  footsteps  were  heard, 
and  they  knew  their  father's  step.  Both  knew 
what  it  meant  not  to  open  when  their  father 
knocked,  but  each  refrained  from  speaking 
of  it.  1 


440 


THE  COUNTRY-EIOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Roland's  thoughts  must  have  gono  from 
one  person  to  the  other,  for  he  now  said  :  — 

"Herr  von  Pranken  has  advised  me  lo 
enter  the  Papal  army.  O,  if  I  only  knew  a 
battle-field  where  human  brotherhood  was 
to  be  fought  for  !  O,  if  I  knew  where  that 
was,  how  gladly  would  I  die  on  it !  But 
that  cannot  be  won  upon  the  field  of  battle. 
Oil,  sister!  I  don't  know  what  I'm  thinking, 
what  I'm  saying.  Hiawatha  fasted,  and  we 
must  fast  too." 

"  Let  us  go  home  !  "  said  Manna,  finally. 

M  Home  !  home !  What  is  home  to  us  ? 
What  can  be  our  home  ?  " 

Roland,  however,  rose  up  and  went  hand 
in  hand  with  Manna  through  the  meadow 
to  the  villa. 

The  sun  shone  bright,  the  hay  exhaled  so 
sweet  a  fragrance,  the  vessels  were  rushing 
up  and  down  the  stream,  and  just  then  a 
merry  procession  was  moving  towards  them 
on  the  road ;  it  was  a  so-called  harvest 
mummery.  On  a  cask  sat  the  second  son 
of  the  Huntsman  crowned  as  Bacchus  with 
vine-leaves  ;  around  him  stood  maidens  clad 
in  white,  with  dishevelled  hair ;  they  were 
swinging  jugs,  shouting  and  rejoicing.  On 
the  horses  rode  shapes  disguised  with  moss. 

Everybody  was  shouting  and  screaming 
amidst  the  loud  report  of  fire-arms. 

Brother  and  sister  stood  and  gazed  after 
the  merry  train,  which  disappeared  behind 
the  trees,  and  each  knew  the  other's 
thoughts.  Yes,  all  others  can  be  merry,  but 
we !  They  went  on  farther,  and  at  last 
Roland  said:  — 

"  I  know  not  how  it  is  with  me,  I  feel  as 
if  I  were  not  really  experiencing  all  this ; 
I  am  only  dreaming  of  it,  and  looking  at  it 
like  a  departed  spirit.  Everything  is  so 
distant,  so  inacessible,  so  dim,  so  shadowy. 
When  I  look  upon  you,  I  feel  all  the  time 
that  we  cannot  approach  each  other  at  all, 
that  there  lies  between  us  a  dreadful  im- 
mensity of  distance,  and  father  —  moth- 
er! " 

With  a  wild  stare  he  looked  around  him, 
as  if  he  saw  ghosts  everywhere.  Manna 
held  his  hand  more  firmly ;  he  became  more 
tranquil;  nay,  he  even  smiled  thankfully. 

Griffin  came  bounding  along  just  at  this 
moment;  he  was  overjoyed  to  .see  his  young 
master  once  more,  and  jumped  up  on  him 
again  and  again.  Roland  caressed  him  and 
said :  — 

44  Yes,  dear  Griffin,  when  I  had  lost  and 
forgotten  you,  then  you  found  your  way 
home.  Ah,  dear  Griffin,  don't  you  know 
a  way  home  for  me  now  ?  I  am  not  your 
master,  I  am  nothing." 

The  dog  seemed  to  understand  Roland's 
sad  looks  and  words  ;  he  looked  up  at  him 


so  affectionately,  as  if  he  wanted  to  say :  — 
Ah  !'  do  not  pine  thy  young  life  away. 

Brother  and  sister  stood  side  by  side 
on  the  bank  of  the  Rhine.  Roland  ex- 
claimed, — 

"  I  see  my  face  in  the  water,  sister,  there 
is  no  brand  upon  my  forehead  —  no  brand 
—  and  still  " 

He  wept  bitterly,  for  the  first  time. 

"  Come,  let  us  go  on,"  said  Manna  con- 
solingly. 

f*  On,  on  !  Yes,  our  path  is  long,  unend- 
ingly long,"  rejoined  Roland,  as  he  allowed 
himself  to  be  led  away  by  his  sister. 

They  entered  the  courtyard  of  the  villa. 
The  servants  were  slowly  leading  away  the 
horses  with  their  blankets  on. 

Roland  opened  his  mouth  :  he  wanted  to 
cry  out :  Take  off  the  blankets  !  Take  off 
the  blankets,  and  hide  the  shame  with 
them !  Let  the  horses  all  spring  out  into 
the  open  air.  We  have  no  more  right  over 
them,  they  are  no  longer  ours !  But  he 
could  not  utter  the  words. 

Then  he  looked  up  at  the  green-houses, 
at  the  trees,  as  if  he  wanted  to  ask  them  all 
if  they  knew  to  whom  they  belonged. 

He  asked  Manna  to  go  into  the  stable 
with  him.  He  looked  into  the  servants1 
faces  as  if  begging  respect  from  them,  and 
he  thanked  them  for  saluting  him,  and  for 
asking  him  what  his  commands  were.  Men 
still  saluted  him,  men  still  obeyed  him  !  In 
the  stable,  he  caressed  his  pony  and  wept 
upon  his  neck. 

"OPuck!  shall  you  ever  carry  such  a 
light-hearted  youth  again  ?  " 

The  dogs  were  jumping  round  him ;  he 
nodded  to  them,  and  said  sorrowfully  to 
Manna :  — 

"The  brutes  are  altogether  the  happiest 
creatures  in  the  world ;  they  inherit  nothing 
from  their  parents,  nothing  but  life  —  no 
house,  no  garden,  no  money,  no  clothes. 
Ah,  my  good  Puck,  what  a  fine  long  mane 
you  have ! M 

There  was  something  rising  almost  to 
frenzy  in  Roland's  thought  and  speech,  as, 
tugging  at  the  beast's  long  mane,  he  ex- 
claimed :  — 

44  If  slaves  could  not  speak,  could  not 
pray,  they  would  be  happy  like  you,  and 
like  you,  my  faithful  dogs  !■" 

Manna  was  becoming  uneasy  at  the  un- 
wearying tenor  of  Roland's  thoughts ;  she 
said :  — 

"  You  must  now  remain  all  the  time  with 
our  friend  Eric,  and  not  leave  him  a  mo- 
ment." 

44  No,  not  now  —  not  now!  Those  are 
no  arrows  of  Apollo,  for  the  pedagogue  to 
ward  off !  " 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


441 


Manna  did  not  understand  what  Roland 
was  saying ;  his  mind  seemed  to  her  dis- 
tracted, and  he  did  not  explain  how  it  was 
that  the  Niobe  group  rose  before  his  eyes. 
At  length,  after  some  time,  he  said  :  — 

**  Yes,  so  it  is  !  The  maiden  hides  in  her 
mothers  lap.  but  the  boy  holds  up  his  own 
hands  and  wards  off  the  fatal  shaft.  And 
at  night,  when  I  was  wandering  off  to  Eric, 
I  listened  to  the  story  of  the  laughing 
sprite.  It  takes  a  long  while  for  an  acorn 
to  grow  into  a  tree,  and  a  cradle  to  be 
made  out  of  the  tree,  and  a  child  that  lies 
in  the  cradle  to  open  the  door.  Don't  you 
hear  ?  he  laughs  ;  he  must  go  through  his 
transformation.11 

Manna  begged  him  to  be  quiet,  and 
said :  — 

"  I  must  go  to  father." 

"  And  I  to  mother." 

Pranken  met  them  on  the  steps ;  he 
held  out  his  hand  to  Manna,  and  she  said : 

"lam  unspeakably  thankful  to  you  for  the 
great  loyalty  you  have  shown  to  my  father.11 
• "  Stop  a  while,  I  beg  of  you.11 

"  No,  I  cannot  now  —  no  longer." 

The  brother  and  sister  separated,  and  as 
Roland  entered  his  mothers  room,  the 
latter  said :  — 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  this  Old 
World,  we  are  going  back  again  to  the  New, 
to  your  real  home." 

Roland  caught  these  words  as  if  they 
came  from  afar  off;  and  he  exclaimed  :  — 

"  That's  it!  that's  it!  It  is  the  Delphic 
oracle !  V 

"  What  do  youjsay  ?    I  am  not  learned.11 

Roland  did  not  answer.  Something  was 
beginning  to  emerge  out  of  the  chaos  around 
him,  but  it  sank  quickly  out  of  sight  again. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  it  is  time  to  go  to  din- 
ner," said  the  mother. 

She  put  on  a  shawl  and  went  with  Roland 
to  the  dining-room. 

Here,  also,  were  Pranken  and  Fraulein 
Perini ;  the  two  were  standing  talking  to- 
gether in  a  low  tone. 

Roland  went  for  Eric. 

"  Isn't  it  dreadful  to  have  to  eat  again  ?  " 
he  said.  "What  bits  of  slaves  do  we  eat 
to-day  ?  Ah,  Eric  !  lay  your  hand  upon  my 
forehead.    So  —  so  —  now  thatfs  good." 

They  had  to  wait  some  time  before  Son- 
nenkamp came,  and  Manna  did  not  appear 
until  some  time  afterwards. 

Her  cheeks  were  glowing. 

They  sat  there  at  table  so  near  together, 
and  so  far  —  far  apart  were  they  from  each 
other.  Eric  and  Manna  looked  at  each 
other  only  once  ;•  there  was  in  their  glance 
an  expression  full  of  intelligence.  Roland 
said  softly  to  Eric,  — 


"When  the  huntsman  came  home  from 
court  there  were  potatoes  on  his  table." 

Eric  laid  his  hand  consolingly  on  his 
shoulder ;  he  knew  everything  that  was 
going  on  in  the  ^oul  of  the  youth  from  this 
reminiscence.  The  huntsman  was  inno- 
cent, and  here  ? 

Pranken  displayed  all  his  tact  in  manag- 
ing to  bring  forward  every  safe  subject  of 
conversation ;  the  building  of  the  castle 
furnished  him  abundant  material. 

They  rose  from  the  table,  and  all  sepa- 
rated as  before.  Roland  requested  Eric 
to  allow  him  to  remain  alone  by  himself  for 
that  day. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  BOND  OF  HONOR. 

It  was  evening.  Roland  was  going 
through  the  village.  In  the  streets  floated 
an  odor  of  the  May  wine ;  everybody  was 
merry  and  bustling ;  the  wine-presses  were 
creaking  and  dripping  in  the  streets,  men 
were  moving  along  slowly  with  full  heavy 
tubs  on  their  bacjss. 

Roland  gazed  at  everybody  with  ques- 
tioning look ;  he  would  have  liked  to  cry 
out,  — 

See,  here  is  a  beggar,  he  begs  of  you 
something  of  love,  of  kindness,  of  pity  for 
him  and  his  father.  Ah,  only  a  little 
charity ! 

He  saw  the  houses  to  which  on  his  birth- 
day he  had  carried  joy-bringing  gifts;  the 
people  returned  his  greetings,  but  they  were 
not,  as  formerly,  gladdened  and  honored  by 
them  ;  he  left  the  village. 

Outside  of  it,  on  the  river-bank,  he  sat 
behind  a  hedge,  as  he  did  before  he  ran 
away  to  Eric.  Now  he  was  sitting  in  un- 
speakable sadness,  that  bade  fair  to  wither 
his  life-strength.  A  water-ousel  flew  up  near 
him.  With  childish  self-forgetfulness,  he 
bent  the  boughs  away  from  each  other,  and 
saw  a  nest  with  five  young  ones  stretching 
out  their  bills.  How  happy  he  would  have 
been  in  by-gone  days  to  have  made  such  a 
discovery !  Now,  he  stood  there,  and  said 
to  himself  sadly,  — 

Ah  !  you  are  at  home. 

He  heard  a  carriage  come  rattling 
towards  him  on  the  road,  and  he  thought  of 
that  poor  servant  in  the  night,  who  would 
rather  hunger  and  beg  than  possess  prop- 
erty unjustly  acquired. 

Not  far  from  him  on  the  bank  a  boat  was 
loosened  from  its  chain ;  he  heard  the  chain 
rattle^  and  at  the  same  moment  he  felt  in 
his  heart  as  if  he  heard  the  slaves,  who, 
bound  in  one  long  chain,  were  coming 
towards  him ;  and  this  again  transformed 


442 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


itself  in  his  imagination,  and  he  saw  the 
dwarf,  fettered  as  he  had  once  seen  him, 
and  the  groom  ;  they  were  walking  along  the 
road,  and  behind  them  the  constable,  with 
his  loaded  gun  gleaming  in  the  sun. 
He  looked  up. 

There,  indeed,  was  a  constable  walking 
along.  What  if  he  were  coming  to  arrest 
his  father  ? 

O  no,  there  was  no  fear  ofthat ! 

What  was  the  matter,  then  ? 

And  while  his  eye  was  still  fastened  on 
the  bush  behind  which  the  constable  disap- 
peared, he  became,  as  it  were,  clairvoyant, 
his  sight  reaching  out  to  all  things  instinctive- 
ly. His  thought  stretched  away  to  Clodwig, 
to  the  Doctor,  to  the  Major,  to  the  Hunts- 
man. What  are  they  all  saying  ?  Pro- 
foundly it  came  upon  him  :  Man  does  not 
live  for  himself  alone.  There  is  an  invisible 
and  inseparable  community,  whose  bond  is 
respect  and  honor.  He  could  bear  yo 
longer  to  sit  alone  with  his  confused 
thoughts  ;  he  said  to  himself  almost  aloud  : — 

"  To  the  Huntsman's." 

With  nimble  foot  and  «beating  heart,  as 
if  he  expected  to  find  something  there,  he 
knew  not  what,  he  ascended  the  mountain. 
Before  reaching  the  town  he  was  met  by 
the  second  son  of  the  Huntsman ;  he  too 
was  slowly  plodding :  he  was  carrying  a 
heavy  tub  of  young  wine.  The  lad  was  of 
the  same  age  with  Roland,  and  while  still 
at  some  distance",  he  «ried  out : — 

"  Father  said  that  yow  would  come.  Just 
go  right  in,  he  is  expecting  you." 

Roland  thanked  him  and  went  on.  As 
he  entered  the  Huntsman's  house,  the  latter 
cried  out  to  him  : — 

"  Knew  you  were  coming.  Have  a  salve 
for  you.  Needn't  tell  me  anything,  know 
everything  this  long  while.  Can  give  you 
something." 

"What?" 

"  Boy,  there  are  two  things  in  the  world 
that  help ;  praying  and  drinking.  If  you 
can't  pray;  drink  till  you  have  enough. 
Come,  that's  the  best  thing." 

"  Shame  on  you,"  rejoined  Roland, 
"  shame  on  you,  there  is  another  thing." 

"  What  now?  What?" 

"  Why,  thinking.  I  cannot  yet  do  it  well 
at  all,  and  I  know  not  what  will  come  of  it, 
but  still  help  must  come  of  it." 

"  Huzza  !  "  cried  the  Huntsman,  "  you're 
a  splendid  lad !  Say,  have  you  decided  yet 
what  you'll  do  with  the  big  pile  of  money, 
when  you've  once  got  it  in  your  hand  ?  " 

"No." 

"Very  well.  No  doubt  you'll  learn. 
Now,  I  tell  you,  don't  fret  your  young  life 
away.    Have  pity  on  your  father ;  he  is  a 


poor  man,  with  all  his  millions.  Show  that 
you're  a  lad  who  deserves  to  have  the  sun 
shine  on  him. 

"Listen!  mind!"  he  said,  interrupting 
himself  suddenly. 

The  black-bird  was  singing  the  melody : 
"Rejoice  in  your  life."  Roland  and  the 
Huntsman  looked  at  each  other,  and  Roland 
smiled. 

"Just  so!  "  cried  the  Huntsman.  "Learn 
that  by  heart,  too.  Rejoice  in  your  life,  all 
else  is  silly  stuff.  The  bird  is  sensible. 
You've  done  your  part  well."  He  nodded  to 
the  black-bird,  which  was  regarding  the  man 
and  the  boy  with  a  wise  look,  as  if  it  knew 
what  it  had  done,  and  was  sure  of  applause  ; 
and  turning  to  Roland,  he  continued  mer- 
rily : — 

"  So — just  so  ! — just  so  !  Hold  up  your 
head,  and  if  you  need  any  one,  call  on  me. 
You  got  me  out  of  prison ;  that  I'll  never 
forget.  Now  come  and  be  merry,  as  your 
dogs  are." 

He  took  out  a  loaf  of  bread,  which  Roland 
was  to  give  to  the  dogs  to  eat ;  but  Roland 
ate  first  with  great  zest. 

"Hurrah!  victory!"  shouted  Claus, 
"you're  hungry.  The  battle's  won  !  Now 
let  the  water  run  down  the  Rhine,  there's 
another  day  to-morrow." 

Eric  had  had  a  presentiment  that  Roland 
would  be  at  the  field-guard's  ;  he  went  after 
him,  and  was  rejoiced  to  find  him  calm  once 
more.  They  went  home  together,  and 
Roland  said : — 

"  Over  there  at  fihe  Huntsman's  it  came 
into  my  head  all  at  once :  What  would 
Benjamin  Franklin  say  to  me  now  ?  Do 
you  know,  Eric,  what  he  would  say  ?  " 

"Not  entirely,  but  I  think  he  would 
say  that  a  man  who  does  nothing  but 
grieve  stands  on  a  level  with  the  brute, 
which  in  a  mishap  cannot  help  itself.  The 
power  of  man  has  its  beginning  in  this,  that 
he  can  grasp,  comprehend,  and  direct  his 
misfortune  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  some- 
thing out  of  it  for  his  own  good.  If  you 
suffer  yourself  to  fall  asleep  in  affliction, 
you  are  responsible  for  your  own  "injury. 
Rouse  yourself.  As  long  as  there  is  anything 
which  you  can  esteem  in  yourself,  you  have 
aright  to  the  esteem  of  others." 

"Thanks,"  exclaimed  Roland.  "For 
my  part,  I  have  been  thinking  what  Benja- 
min Franklin  would  say.  I  saw  him  before 
me  with  his  genial  countenance,  his  long 
snow-white  hair,  and  he  said  :  —  Mark  you, 
the  worst  thing  is  not  what  shames  us  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  bat  to  allow  the  shame 
so  to  pervert  your  mind  that  you  look  upon 
all  men  as  base." 

What  he  had  listened  to  on  the  way  he 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


443 


had  shaped  into  a  strong  pillar  of  thought 
for  himself. 

Erie  eould  not  tell  how  it  gladdened  his 
heart  to  feel  that  he  had  fashioned  this  youth 
for  such  things ;  he  wanted  to  cry  out  to 
him,  You  are  a  man  ;  but  he  repressed  it.  It 
would  not  do  to  say  it  aloud.  With  a 
tranquillity  wrung  from  the  most  profound 
grief,  they  both  returned  to  the  villa. 

They  reached  the  garden  wall,  from  the 
face  of  which  the  porter  was  scraping  some- 
thing. 

"There  it  is!  there  it  is!"  exclaimed 
Roland.    "  I  have  read  it !  " 

The  porter  was  scraping  the  mortar  with 
a  sharp  iron,  and  this  scraping  went  through 
Roland's  soul  as  if  the  work  were  done  on  his 
own  heart.  All  the  coolness  and  composure 
that  he  had  gained  disappeared. 

"  There  it  is  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  will 
have  to  be  scraped  off  again  to-morrow,  and 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  forever.  Ah, 
Eric,  why  are  men  so  wicked  !  What  good 
does  it  do  them  to  insult  us  ?  " 

Eric  consoled  him  by  saying  that  men  are 
not  so  wicked,  they  merely  liked  to  irritate 
and  mock  one  another. 

He  accompanied  Roland  to  his  room,  and 
there  the  youth  sat  still,  his  hand  clenched 
and  pressed  against  his  lip,  till  his  teeth  left 
their  mark  on  his  fingers.  For  a  long  while 
he  spoke  not  a  word.  He  looked  at  the 
stuffed  bird,  and  said  softly  to  himself  once 
more,  "  Hiawatha  !  11 

He  stood  at  the  window,  and  looked 
down  into  the  park,  up  into  the  sky,  where 
the  swallows  were  gathering  in  great  flocks, 
getting  ready  Jo  cross  the  sea  into  warm- 
er lands.  Everything,  everything  has  its 
home,  something  was  saying  in  the  heart  of 
this  youth ;  the  plant  that  cannot  stir  is 
carried  to  a  secure  shelter,  and  the  swallow 
draws  to  a  place  where  it  can  still  be  hap- 
py. O,  if  some  one  could  only  tell  us  now 
where  we  might  be  happy  ! 

All  at  once  he  shrank  back  from  the 
window,  for  he  saw  the  Russian  prince 
entering  the  courtyard ;  behind  the  Prince 
came  the  Doctor  in  his  carriage.  Roland 
begged  Eric  to  leave  him  alone,  and  not 
bring  any  one  to  see  him. 

Eric  went  away,  and  Roland  locked  him- 
self up  in  his  room. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
SONNENKAMP  FINDS  A  CONGENIAL  SPIRIT. 

Sonnenkamp  was  sitting  alone  in  his 
large  room  ;  he  looked  up  towards  the  castle, 
which  was  nearly  completed.  Who  will 
dwell  in  it?    He  turned  his  eye  away.  He 


stood  for  a  long  time  in  front  of  Roland's 
picture. 

"  One  should  have  no  children,  know 
nothing  of  them,"  he  exclaimed.  He  was 
terrified  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice. 

He  opened  the  money-safe ;  he  contem- 
plated the  neatly-arranged  papers,  and  the 
drawers  that  contained  the  coined  and  un- 
coined gold. 

"What  help  are  you  to  me?  and  still 
 Ii 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  it?  "he  asked. 

Joseph  answered :  — 

"  His  Highness  the  Prince  is  here,  and 
wishes  " 

The  Prince  ?  Could  it  be  possible  ?  Was 
it  all  only  a  dream  ?  Is  the  Prince  coming 
to  ask  his  pardon  ?  Does  he  feel  ? 

Sonnenkamp  went  to  the  door  ;  he  opened 
it ;  there  stood  the  Russian  Prince  Valerian. 
He  said,  with  friendly  words,  that  he  had 
come  to  see  if  he  could,  in  any  way,  be  of 
assistance,  and  Herr  Weidmann  also  

"I  need  no  assistance!  I  need  no  one," 
broke  in  Sonnenkamp,  shutting  the  door 
and  locking  it  once  more. 

"  I  have  no  pity,  and  want  no  pity,"  said 
he  to  himself,  holding  both  his  clenched 
hands  on  his  breast.  There  was  another 
knock. 

"  What  is  it?  Why  don't  they  leave  me 
in  peace  ?  " 

Through  the  key-hole  came  the  sound  of 
a  gantle  voice  :  — 

"  It  is  I,  the  Countess  Bella." 

Sonnenkamp  shivered. 

Is  it  a  trick  ?  It  is  some  one  who  insists 
on  speaking  to  him,  assuming  that  name 
and  that  voice. 

Well !  At  any  rate,  the  person  who  puts 
on  that  mask  is  very  cunning.  Let  us  see 
who  it  is  that  is  so  shrewd  ! 

He  opened  the  door  and  stood  transfixed ; 
it  was  indeed  Bella. 

"Give  me  your  hand!"  she  cried. 
"  Your  hand  !  You  are  a  hero,  I  have  never 
before  seen  a  hero.  And  what  are  all 
these  puppets  around  you  ?  Stuffing  for 
uniforms,  nothing  more ;  cowardly  profes- 
sors and  newspaper  hacks  !  There  is  still 
a  bugbear  which  they  call  humanity,  of 
which  they  are  all  in  fear ;  before  which 
they  creep  away,  like  children  from  the 
wolf.  You  alone  are  a  man  !  " 

"  Sit  down,"  at  last  said  Sonnenkamp  in 
astonishment ;  he  did  not  in  the  least  un- 
derstand what  all  this  could  mean.  Bella 
kept  up  the  same  strain,  saying : — 

"  I  knew  that  you  were  a  conqueror,  but 
I  did  not  know  that  you  were  such  a  mighty 
one." 


444 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Still  Sonnenkamp  was  not  able  to  undcr- 
•  stand.    What  does  this  woman  want?  Is 
this  a  kind  of  mockery  ?   But  he  was  dis- 
posed  to   think  otherwise,  when  she  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"  They  are  weaklings  —  cowards,  all  of 
them,  the  world  of  rank  particularly!  They 
ought  to  have  created  you  a  count,  an  ordi- 
nary baron  is  altogether  too  small  a  thing 
for  you.  You  have  done  Avhat  they  all 
would  have  liked  to  do  —  no,  not  all,  but 
only  certain  ones  who  have  the  mettle  with- 
in them.  But  they  are  ashamed  before 
the  man  who  accomplishes  what  they  had 
not  the  energy,  or  the  courage,  or  the  daring 
to  accomplish.  They  have  swords,  they 
carry  fancy  daggers,  and  are  frightened  at 
the  rattan  of  the  school-master,  who  raps 
them  on  the. fingers  with  it  and  says  to  them  : 
1  Know  ye  not  that  we  are  living  in  the 
epoch  —  or  do  they  call  it  the  century,  the 
age  —  of  humanity  ?  '  By  good  right,  all 
the  nobles  of  the  land  should  leave  their 
cards  for  you,  and  congratulate  you.  How 
•many  of  these  puppets  would  be  in  posses- 
sion of  nobility,  if  they  had  to  win  it  by 
heroism  like  yours  ?  Look  at  me  ;  were  I 
young,  had  you  come  in  my  youth,  I  would 
have  gone  out  with  you  into  the  wide  world  ; 
you  have  in  you  a  Napoleonic  vein.  Give 
me  your  hand  ! 11 

She  reached  out  both  her  hands  and 
pressed  his  passionately. 

"  You  do  not  recollect,  but  I  have  kept 
it  in  mind,11  said  she  in  a  haughty  tone, 
"  when  you  and  Prince  Valerian  dined  with 
us,  you  said:  'There  is  a  priestcraft  of 
Humanity.1  You  were  right.  Before  the 
flimsy  humanity  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau, 
they  all  bow  down  in  fear,  strong  free  men  ; 
they  are  dreaming  of  a  paradise  of  equality, 
where  black  and  white,  noble  and  mean, 
the  genius  and  the  blockhead,  shall  be 
brewed  into  a  mass  together ;  they  have  a 
new  faith  in  a  book,  the  '  Contrat  Social 1  is 
their  Bible.  I  am  not  afraid  of  Jean  Jac- 
ques Rousseau  11 

With  a  joyful  look,  Sonnenkamp  inter- 
rupted her :  — 

"  A  cause  is  not  lost,  no,  it  is  victorious, 
if  highminded  women  are  enthusiastic  over 
it." 

"  Thanks  —  thanks,11  continued  Bella. 

She  seized  his  hand  and  stroked  his 
thumb  with  her  delicate  fingers. 

"  So  one  of  the  pets  of  the  school-masters 
has  sunk  his  teeth  in  here  ?  Be  proud  of  it ; 
it  is  a  mark  of  honor,  more  so  than  if  it  had 
b_een  won  in  battle.  Now  let  nothing  in 
the  world  subdue  you;  enjoy  yourself;  you 
have  nothing  more  to  conceal ;  now  stand 


your  ground  and  show  that  you  are  the 
only  one  that  is  not  afraid  of  the  school-mas- 
ters. The  dauntless  man  acknowledges 
and  conforms  to  the  inevitable.11 

Bella  had  risen  ;  her  eye  was  blazing,  her 
cheeks  were  glowing,  and  her  countenance 
wore  a  look  of  mysterious  and  terrible  fas- 
cination. 

So  must  Medusa  have  appeared,  so  must 
she  have  breathed,  so  must  she  have  trem- 
bled. 

And  in  the  midst  of  this  deep  emotion, 
Bella  felt  that  it  was  a  fine  scene :  here  are 
the  sublime  tones  of  voice  at  her  command, 
here  is  majesty,  here  is  passion.  She  sud- 
denly stood  still  like  a  living  picture,  as 
soon  as  she  became  conscious  of  this  con- 
ception, and  her  eye  sought  for  a  mirror  in 
which  to  behold  herself. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  turned  back  as 
if  she  were  coming  upon  the  stage  out  of 
one  of  the  side  scenes. 

"  Will  you  teli  me  how  you  have  become 
so  great  and  daring,  so  free  —  the  only 
free  man  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp,  the  strong  man,  trembled 
within  himself.  He  had  an  avowal  upon  his 
lips,  but  he  dared  not  utter  it;  he  had  a 
demoniacal  smile  upon  his  face,  as  Bella 
said  to  him  :  — 

"  There  is  one  thing  only  you  must  not 
do  ;  speak-not  to  me  of  love  :  anything  but 
the  '  fable  con  venue  ;  1  that  is  nothing  — for 
you  nothing  and  to  me  nothing.  Still 
another  thing.  You  will  learn  it  now  too, 
if  you  do  not  know  it  already,  —  the  great- 
est tyranny  in  the  world  is  the  family. 
Grieve  not  for  your  family^  a  hero  has  no 
family,  and  besides,  it  is  only  a  sentimental 
tradition  that  the  heroes  used  to  play  with 
their  children  on  the  floor.  Yqu  must 
be  alone,  think' of  yourself  alone;  then  you 
are  strong,  you  are  like  a  man  born  of 
Byron's  fancy,  and  such  a  man  actually 
stands  before  me.  You  have  made  only 
one  mistake ;  a  man  like  you,  such  a  hero, 
should  have  no  family,  should  not  want  to 
have  any.  Be  firm,  do  not  suffer  yourself 
to  be  cleft  in  twain  and  crushed  to  atoms 
through  this  mistake.11 

Sonnenkamp  was  still  too  much  shaken 
not  to  feel  a  shudder  creep  over  him  at  the 
sight  of  this  apparition,  that  seemed  to  have 
sprung  out  from  the  world  of  fable ;  he  said 
that  he  had  had  an  idea,  of  the  mere  exis- 
tence of  which  he  had  only  been  conscious 
in  a  shadowy  way,  but  now  it  was  clear ; 
he  was  resolved  to  continue  the  struggle,  to 
wage  open  war,  that  is,  covert  but  decisive 
war ;  he  would  bring  the  virtuous  people 
hereabouts  to  a  different  way  of  thinking, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


445 


this  next  would  be  his  task.  He  had  a  plan 
that  was  not  yet  clear  to  him,  but  it  would 
become  clear. 

Bella  said  that  she  did  not  wish  to  speak 
to  any  one  in  the  house  beside  himself;  she 
was  going  back  at  once,  but  she  trusted  that 
he  would  be  firm  and  stand  his  ground,  for 
otherwise  she  would  have  to  despise  all 
men,  and  among  them  the  only  one  who 
had  ever  won  her  respect  by  real  power. 

Sonnenkamp  opened  the  seed-room,  ac- 
companied Bella  through  it,  and  opened 
the  door  that  led  to  the  private  stair  over- 
run with  climbing  plants.  Here  he  kissed 
her  hand  at  parting.  But  while  still  on  the 
steps,  Bella  called  after  him  :  — 

"And  one  thing  more!  The  first  thing 
for  you  to  do  is  to  free  yourself  from  slavery  ; 
you  must  send  away  this  teacher's  family.11 

She  made  a  repellant  gesture,  and 
added :  — ' 

"This  teacher's  family  should  establish 
their  transcendental  distillery  in  the  little 
University  town  once  more.1' 

When  Sonnenkamp  returned  to  his  room 
after  Belial  departure,  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  everything  had  been  only  a  dream ;  but 
he  still  breathed  the  odor  of  the  delicate 
perfumery  which  Bella's  garments  had  left 
behind  in  his  room ;  he  still  saw  the  chair 
on  which  she  had  been  sitting ;  she  had 
actually  been  there. 

But  Bella  did  not  reach  home  unseen. 
In  the  park  she  met  her  brother.  She  con- 
fessed to  him  frankly  that  she  had  been  to 
see  Sonnenkamp,  to  cheer  him  up;  she 
praised  Otto  for  his  constancy,  and  for  de- 
spising the  miserable,  weak  world. 

"  1  could  love  this  man  !  "  she  exclaimed  ; 
"  he  is  a  conqueror,  he  has  won  for  himself 
a  bit  of  the  world.  Pshaw !  Let  them 
grub  for  remains  from  the  Roman  world, 
which  was  so  powerful  and  despised  every 
one  that  spoke  of  justice  for  the  slaves 
—  and  what  are  they  themselves  ?  " 

"Sister,"  said  Pranken  playfully,  "you 
are  still  too  young  and  handsome  to  dress 
yourself  up  with  those  ingenious  whims ; 
you  do  not  need  such  cosmetic  contri- 
vances." 

Bella  drew  back  a  step  from  him,  and 
then  said :  — 

"  No,  I  wanted  to  say  a  word  to  you  ;  but 
no.  Only  persevere,  and  bring  your  de- 
signs with  Manna  to  a  point  soon.  How 
does  the  little  cloister-plant  do?11 

"I  beg  of  you,  Bella  " 

"  Well,  well,  I'm  going  directly,  I  can  do 
none  of  you  any  good." 

She  turned  away  quickly,  and  went  back 
to  Wolfsgarten. 

Pranken  looked  after  her  with  astonish- 


ment. He  composed  himself,  for  the  Priest 
came  up.  He  reached  out  his  hand  to  him 
humbly,  and  spoke  very  gratefully  of  his 
having  come  voluntarily  to  build  up  anew 
the  house  of  sorrow. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
COUNTER-POISON. 

Prince  Valerian,  who  had  met  with 
such  a  rough  rebuff  from  Sonnenkamp,  had 
himself  announced  to  Eric.  Roland,  who 
was  in  the  next  room,  heard  him  say,  the 
first  thing  as  he  entered  :  — 

"Where  is  Roland?" 

"  He  desires  to  be  left  alone,"  answered 
Eric ;  and  then  the  Prince  declared  that 
Eric  was  best  able  to  form  an  opinion  as  to 
what  might  be  good  for  Roland;  but  for 
his  part,  he  could  not  help  thinking  that  in- 
tercourse with  men  in  whose  eyes  he  could 
behold  the  love  they  bore  him,  wjauld  be  of 
greater  assistance  than  anything  else  in 
this  unspeakable  sorrow. 

Roland  rose  to  his  feet  in  the  next  room. 
Would  this  really  be  better  than  musing  by 
one's  self?  He  kept  quiet,  and  heard  the 
Prince  ask  how  the  daughter  and  how  the 
wife  had  received  the  exposure  of  the 
dreadful  secret. 

The  Prince  spoke  in  a  loud,  Eric  in  a 
low  tone,  and  Roland  did  not  understand 
Eric's  answer. 

The  Prince  continued  in  the  same  loud 
tone.  Herr  Weidmann  was  indignant  at 
the  manner  in  which  Professor  Crutius  had 
brought  this  matter  before  the  public,  and 
the  statement  that  Doctor  Fritz  might  have 
had  a  share  in  this  malicious  publication, 
was,  without  doubt,  a  falsehood.  Doctor 
Fritz  had  said  again  and  again,  when  he 
came  to  take  away  his  child,  that  he  hoped 
the  whole  affair  would  remain  concealed,  on 
account  of  Sonnenkarap's  children. 

Roland  trembled. 

Does  Lilian  know  it  over  the  sea  ?  Or 
when  will  she  hear  of  it  ?  How  will  she 
bear  it  ?  And  will  she  cry  about  him  ? 
And  she  told  him,  that  time  in  the  garden, 
that  he  must  come  home  and  help  to  deliver 
the  world  from  wrong. 

He  stretched  his  arms  upwards,  as  if  he 
must  hasten  from  that  spot,  and  do  some- 
thing at  that  very  moment. 

The  Prince,  in  the  neighboring  room,  went 
on  to  say  that  Herr  Weidmann  had  seriously 
considered  whether  he  himself  ought  not  to 
go  over  to  Villa  Eden,  then  and  there  to 
offer  his  assistance,  but  he  had,  after  think- 
ing the  matter  over,  perceived  that  this 
would  be  of  no  practical  benefit,  and  there- 


446 


THE  COUNTRT-UOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


fore  he  had  counselled  the  Prince  to  2arry 
out  his  own  purpose. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  exclaimed,  w  for  the  first  time 
in  a  long  while  has  the  high  social  position 
I  am  permitted  to  occupy  brought  me  joy, 
or,  rather  joy  is  not  the  right  word.  I 
thought  to  myself  that,  on  this  account,  I 
should  be  able  to  effect  here  more  than  any 
one  else,  and  particularly  for  your  pupil 
Roland,  whom  I  love  so  dearly,  and  whose 
afflictions  give  me  not  a  moment's  peace." 

In  the  next  room,  Roland  folded  his  out- 
stretched hands,  and  the  thought  passed 
through  his  mind  : — 

Oh ;  the  world  is  good  ;  no,  it  is  not  so 
bad  as  you  on  the  journey  wished  to  make 
me  believe.  Here  is  one  man  who  feels  for 
me. 

The  Prince  continued  :  — 

"  Ah,  Captain,  what  are  we,  who  are  set 
in  high  places  ?  Our.  way  of  living  is  just 
the  same  as  yours  is  here,  only  it  is  histori- 
cally superannuated,  overgrown  with  moss. 
On  the  way  here,  I  have  seen  everything 
anew.  Our  serfs  were  sold  with  the  land  and 
soil.  It  is  the  same  thing,  or  rather,  worse, 
for  they  were  men  of  the  same  race.  And, 
Captain,  on  my  way  here  I  became  a  terrible 
heretic.  I  asked  myself  what  have  those 
done  who  were  sent  into  the  world  to  preach, 
and  never  to  stop  preaching,  love  and  bro- 
therhood. They  have  looked  quietly  upon 
the  fact  that  there  are  thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  slaves,  thousands  and  thousands  of 
serfs.  And  then  the  thought  struck  me, 
Who  is  freeing  the  serfs  and  the  slaves  ? 
Pure  humanity  is  unloosing  their  chains." 

Again  the  thought  flashed  through 
Roland's  mind  :  Is  not  that  the  same  thing 
that  he  himself  had  already  thought  of — 
and  Manna  too  ?  The  youth's  eyes  opened 
wide,  as  Eric  now  answered  : — 

"  I  am  far  away  from  what  is  called  the 
church,  but  the  doctrine  of  Christ  is  still  a 
root  of  that  humanity  which  is  now  fast 
ripening  into  maturity." 

"You  are  like  Herr  Weidmann,  who 

also  "  exclaimed  the  Prince.    He  could 

not  finish  the  sentence,  for  the  Doctor  en- 
tered. 

"  Where  is  Roland?"  he  also  inquired, 
after  the  greeting  was  ovör. 

He  too  got  the  answer  that  Roland 
wished  to  be  alone,  and  the  Doctor  said,  — 

"I  approve  of  that.  Is  he  very  much 
agitated  ?  Mind,  days  will  come  when  he 
will  fall  into  dulncss  and  apathy ;  let  it  have 
its  course  with  him,  and  at  the  same  time 
have  the  greatest  patience  with  him.  The 
noblest  gift  of  nature  is  stupor ;  it  is  part 
of  the  soul's  sleep ;  the  simpleton  and  the 
brute  have  it  constantly  ;  they  consequently  I 


never  reach  that  pitch  of  intense  excitement 
that  endangers  all  existence  ;  and  nature, 
too,  takes  pity  on  the  sensitive  man,  and 
gives  him  stupor.  In  the  first  place,  when  he 
begins  to  give  way  under  his  grief,  then,  I 
beg  of  you,  give  Roland  to  understand 
then  the  affair  is  not  so  terrible  as  it  seems ; 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  depravity  right  un- 
der our  very  eyes  ;  and  where  is  it  that  this 
depravity  does  not  exist !  Do  you  remem- 
ber my  asking  you  when  you  came  here 
first,  how  long  since  you  had  been  a  believer 
in  depravity  ?  " 
Eric  said  he  did. 

The  Doctor  continued  in  a  cheerful 
tone :  — 

"  Now  that  evil  is  here,  don't  lose  heart ; 
yeu  have  done  nobly  so  long  as  you  have 
put  •  faith  in  human  purity ;  I  hope,  now 
that  you  have  become  a  convert  to  the  new 
faith,  you  will  still  remain  equally  strong. 
Yes,  XDaptain,  we  think  we  are  teachers 
when  we  are  only  pupils.  Do  you 
know  what  vexed  me  most  in  the  publica- 
tion of  this  story  ?" 

"  How  could  I?" 

"  I  was  indignant  that  the  sated,  self- 
sufficient  portion  of  the  community,  pluming 
itself  upon  its  external  white-wash  of  de- 
cency, should  now  give  itself  a  treat.  Each 
person  looks  at  himself:  Ah,  I  am  a  mag- 
nificent being,  compared  with  this  monster. 
And  still  the  vileness  of  the  slave  trade  is 
only  more  notorious  than  that  of  a  thousand 
other  occupations.  In  the  Jockey  Club  the 
'  Jeunesse  doree  '  are  railing  at  the  monster 
Sonnenkamp,  and  what  are  they  themselves  ? 
Hundreds  of  occupations  are  constantly 
hanging  on  the  verge  of  crime.  Yes,  the 
old  theology  teaches  me  that  as  Sodom 
might  in  old  times  have  stood,  if  only  just 
so  many  righteous  men  were  to  be  found  in 
it,  so  it  is  to-day.  The  sun  shines  only  for 
the  few  just  men  ;  and  in  every  human  being 
there  is  a  complete  Sodom  ;  but  there  is  also 
in  him  something  of  righteousness,  and 
because  of  that  he  continues  to  live." 

Eric  and  the  Prince  looked  in  surprise  at 
the  Doctor,  whom  they  had  never  before 
really  known.  Within,  in  the  next  room, 
Roland  had  seized  hold  of  his  forehead,  as  if 
questioning  whether  he  comprehended  all 
this,  and  in  what  it  would  all  end. 

The  Doctor  seemed  to  enjoy  his  triumph, 
or  rather  the  perplexity  he  had  caused,  and 
he  exclaimed  in  a  loud  voice,  louder  even 
than  before,  — 

"  For  all  that,  I  have  for  this  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp great  respect." 

He  paused,  and  then  continued  :  — 

"This  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  or,  for  aught  I 
care,  Banfield,  has  kept  pretty  stiff,  he  has 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


447 


not  bowed  down  before  the  priesthood ;  if 
he  had,  this  would  have  been  covered  up. 
That  he  has  not  done  so,  shows  power  ;  and, 
besides,  I  think  I  have  kept  myself  free 
from  the  sentimental  epidemic.  These  nig- 
gers are  not  my  fellow  creatures ;  human 
beings  of  a  black  complexion  have  no  high 
destiny ;  from  their  whole  physical  confor- 
mation, they  belong  out  in  the  heat  of  the 
sun,  at  hard  work.  Slavery  is  not  such  a 
bad  thing,  after  all ;  we  would  not  find  it  ill, 
if  we,  too,  had  slaves  for  servants.  When 
serving  people  know  that  their  place  is  to 
serve  and  that  they  can  not  play  the  master, 
they  are  more  faithful  in  their  work,  and  one 
can  take  better  care  of  them.  And  I  have 
many  a  time  thought  to  myself  how  it  would 
be,  if  my  men-servants  and  maid-servants 
were  all  at  once  transformed  into  Africans  ; 
it  would  be  a  surprise,  but  one  would  have 
to  get  reconciled  to  it.  I  am  loth  to  accept 
these  darkies  as  my  brothers.  And  can 
you  think  of  a  negro  as  a  painter?  A  nigger 
cannot  even  see  himself  in  the  looking-glass. 
And  can  you  picture  to  yourself  a  nigger 
statesman,  a  nigger  professor  ?  " 

Eric  was  full  of  indignation  at  all  this, 
but  he  had  to  listen  to  it ;  there  was  no 
chance  for  him  to  say  anything,  as  the  Doctor 
cried  out  in  a  still  louder  voice,  — 

"  Don't  let  Roland  fall  into  sentimentality. 
You,  as  philologist,  must  know  the  story  of 
that  —  wasn't  it  a  Roman  emperor?  —  who 
had  made  a  great  deal  of  money  by  the 
slave-trade,  and  whose  son  took  up  a  piece 
of  the  gold  acquired  by  this  means,  held  it 
to  his  nose,  and  asked :  '  num  olet  ?  '  Roland 
should  not  continue  to  carry  on  the  slave- 
trade ;  it  isn't  just  the  thing;  it's  always  un- 
pleasant and  dirty  ;  but  he  mustn't  let  what 
has  happened  ruin  him  ;  he  should  know  that 
he's  the  legitimate  owner  of  the  property, 
and  needn't  ask  how  the  money  was  obtain- 
ed—  the  legitimate  owner,"  he  repeated 
once  again  in  a  loud  voice. 

Eric  now  noticed  for  the  first  time  that 
the  Doctor  was  speaking  neither  to  him  nor 
to  the  Prince. 

The  Doctor  was  aware  that  Roland  was 
listening  to  everything,  in  the  next  room, 
and  everything  was  directed  to  him.  Should 
he  by  a  protest  interfere  with  the  healing 
skill  of  the  Doctor,  who  sought  to  cure  the 
effect  of  the  poison  by  a  counter  poison? 

"  Ah!  you  come  in  good  time,"  cried  the 
Doctor  to  the  Priest,  as  he  entered.  "  I 
have  been  fore-stalling  you  a  little  in  your 
office,  and  now  you  can  give  me  some  as- 
sistance." 

He  repeated  hurriedly  to  the  Priest  what 
he  had  been  saying,  and  he  was  surprised 
when  the  Priest  rejoined  :  — 


"I  do  not  agree  with  you.  Yes,  you 
gentlemen  of  philosophy  and  the  self-gov- 
ernment of  mankind  —  remember,  Captain, 
I  told  you  so  the  first  time  we  met  —  you 
have  nothing  but  arrogance  or  dejection ; 
you  know  no  such  thing  as  equanimity,  be- 
cause the  firmly  fixed  rock  of  the  Positive 
is  lacking  in  you." 

Eric,  who  had  been  holding  his  breath 
while  the  Doctor  was  holding  forth,  was  on 
the  point  of  replying  sharply  to  the  Priest, 
when  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  Ro- 
land entered. 

"  No  Doctor,11  exclaimed  lie,  "  you  have 
not  converted  me.  I  still  know  —  I  still 
know  —  and  you,  Herr  Priest,  it  does  not 
become  me  to  dispute  with  you,  but  I  will 
not  suffer  my  friend,  my  brother,  my  Eric, 
to  be  assailed  here.  He  has  given  me  the 
Positive,  the  belief  in  our  duty,  in  our  activ- 
ity, in  our  never-ceasing  self-devotion.  I 
will  show  for  his  sake,  and  for  my  sake, 
what  I  can  yet  do  in  life." 

The  Prince  embraced  Roland ;  the  Doc- 
tor took  the  Priest  outside,  and  said  to  him 
in  a  low  tone  :  — 

"  Don't  trouble  the  young  man,  a  favor- 
able crisis  has  set  in.  Come  with  me,  I  beg 
of  you." 

He  drew  the  Priest  away  almost  by  force. 

Eric,  Roland,  and  the  Prince  still  sat  a 
long  while  together ;  then  they  had  the 
horses  saddled,  Eric  and  Roland  accom- 
panying the  Prince  a  part  of  the  way. 

After  they  had  ridden  a  short  distance, 
they  saw  a  strange  shape  on  the  road; 
Roland  cried  out  suddenly  :  — 

"There's  something  walking,  I  think  — 
I  think  —  no,  I  am  not  mistaken,  it's  our 
friend  Knopf! 11 

It  was  no  other  than  Knopf.  He  was 
going  along  quietly  in  the  dark,  quizzing 
himself  sorely  why  it  was  he  did  not  under- 
stand the  world ;  it  really  ought  to  explain 
itself  to  him,  for  he  held  the  world  so  dear. 
Why  is  it  so  reserved  and  full  of  secresy  ? 
What  would  now  become  of  Roland  ?  And 
amongst  the  rest  entered  a  lighter  and 
more  trifling  sorrow,  that  the  Major  had 
utterly  forgotten  him.  Knopf  did  not  think 
ill  of  him  for  it,  not  in  the  least ;  for  Hea- 
ven knows  that  in  such  confusion  one  had 
his  head  full  enough ;  who  can  think  of 
everything  ?  He  confessed  modestly  to 
himself  that  he,  of  course,  could  not  have 
been  of  any  assistance  whatever,  he  was  so 
awkward ;  there  was  Herr  Dournay,  and 
Pranken  —  he  knew  nothing  at  all  about 
Prince  Valerian.  Thus  he  was  trudging 
along  in  the  dark,  and  questioning  himself 
in  every  way,  and  then  looking  up  at  the 
stars. 


443 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"  Herr  Knopf!  Herr  Knopf!  Herr  Mag- 
ister !  "  was  shouted  out  by  different  voiees. 
Knopf  stopped.  Roland  sprang  quiekly  off 
his  horse,  embraced  the  old  teacher,  and 
exclaimed  :  — 

"  Ah,  forgive  me  for  what  I  have  done 
to  you  ;  I've  been  wanting  to  say  it  to  you 

—  long  ago  11  At   the  words,  "long 

ago,"1  Roland's  voice  trembled  violently. 

"  You  have  already,  and  it  has  been  for- 
given for  a  long  time  ;  but  how  does  it  hap- 
pen that  you  are  here  ?  11 

Everything  was  soon  explained.  Knopf 
rested  his  hand  on  Roland's  shoulder  all 
the  while,  as  if  he  could  lend  him  some  of 
his  strength  ;  and  he  pressed  back  the  spec- 
tacles very  close  to  his  eyes,  when  he  heard 
and  saw  how  the  youth  was  beginning  to 
bear  up  manfully  under  the  terrible  event. 
He  pressed  Eric's  hand  as  if  he  would  say  :  — 

You  can  be  happy,  you  have  imparted 
to  the  boy  genuine  strength. 

When  at  last  they  were  bidding  good-bye, 
Roland  begged  Knopf  to  ride  home  on  the 
pony.  Knopf  assured  him  repeatedly  that 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  roam  about  in 
the  dark  on  foot ;  Roland  asserted  that 
Puck  was  a  right  gentle  beast,  so  tractable, 
so  easy  and  intelligent ;  and  he  said  to  the 
little  horse :  — 

"  I  want  you  to  be  good  now,  and  make 
up  for  all  the  trouble  I  gave  to  my  old 
teacher ;  do  be  well-behaved." 

Knopf  continued  to  object,  and  at  last 
he  brought  out,  in  a  plaintive  tone,  that  he 
had  no  straps  to  his  pants.  Everybody 
laughed,  and  Roland  in  the  midst  of  his 
sorrow  laughed  too.  Knopf  was  extremely 
happy  to  find  that  Roland  could  laugh,  and 
now  he  yielded.  Roland  helped  him  mount, 
stroking  the  arm  of  his  former  teacher, 
and  stroking  the  horse ;  Knopf  and  the 
Prince  rode  off  together.  But  Eric  did 
not  mount  again ;  leading  his  horse  by  the 
bridle,  he  went  hand  in  hand  with  Roland 
to  the  Villa. 

And  now,  in  the  still  night,  Eric  was  in- 
cessantly occupied  in  thinking  of  what  the 
Doctor  had  said ;  how  great  was  the  dis- 
cord in  the  whole  modern  world,  so  that 
the  life  of  states,  and  even  many  of  the 
occupations  of  private  life,  were  not  regu- 
lated by  ethical  principles.  Not  in  the  way 
prescribed  by  the  Doctor,  — besides,  it  hail 
left  no  impression  whatever  on  Roland,  — 
would  the  youth  gain  rest  and  strength,  nor 
in  any  way  but  in  the  acknowledgment  that 
each  one  must  strive  earnestly  to  conform 
to  the  moral  law,  and  make  it  an  integral 
part  of  his  actual  life. 

Roland  listened  to  him  quietly,  occasion- 


ally clasping  the  speaker's  hand  with  a 
firmer  hold. 

When  they  were  approaching  the  Villa, 
Roland  said,  sighing  deeply  :  — 

"  Ah,  Eric,  now  the  house  is  robbed  in  a 
very  different  way  from  what  it  was  when 
we  came  back  from  Wolfsgarten." 

No  change  had  been  wrought  in  the  de- 
jected feelings  of  Roland  by  what  the  Doc- 
tor had  said,  nor  by  Eric's  utterances ;  the 
only  effect  was  to  enable  him  to  express 
himself  freely. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  NEW  PILLORY  AT  THE  CHURCH  DOOR. 

The  swallows,  were  flocking  together  and 
twittering  over  Villa  Eden,  over  the  jail  not 
far  from  the  house  of  the  Justice,  over  the 
military  club-house  in  the  capital,  and 
wherever  they  flocked,  everybody  was  talk- 
ing of  Sonnenkamp,  of  what  had  happened 
and  of  what  would  happen  to  him. 

In  the  basement,  in  the  large  room  near 
the  kitchen,  Sonnenkamp's  domestics  were 
sitting  at  table.  Bertram's  chair  was  va- 
cant. Somebody  was  saying  that  the 
porter  would  have  to  scrape  the  writing  off* 
the  wall,  and  that  he  had  already  given  the 
master  notice  that  he  should  leave.  The 
"chief,"  who  spoke  German  quite  fluently 
when  he  was  in  anger,  was  cursing  the  ras- 
cality of  domestics  in  leaving  their  master, 
who  had  no  farther  to  concern  themselves 
than  to  get  their  regular  pay.  The  Cooper 
contested  this.  Of  course,  the  honor  of 
the  master  was  the  honor  of  the  servant,  but 
they  ought  still  to  remain  with  Sonnenkamp  ; 
if  there  was  a  good  deal  in  him  that  was 
bad,  there  was  also,  much  that  was  good. 
Joseph,  whose  personal  opinion  did  not 
have  its  just  weight,  on  account  of  his  confi- 
dential relations  with  Sonnenkamp,  was  glad 
that  the  Cooper  had  hit  the  right  point. 

The  second  coachman,  the  Englishman, 
who  also  wanted,  to  give  notice  of  leaving, 
now  said  that  he  should  not  do  it ;  but  of 
course  he  must  always  be  ready  for  a  boxing- 
match. 

The  Squirrel  expressed  his  fear  that 
some  one  would  set  fire  to  the  place,  for  the 
whole  neighborhood  was  possessed  by  the 
devil.  Lootz  was  not  there,  and  nobody 
knew  where  the  master  had  sent  him.  Old 
Ursel  mourned  over  the  innocent  children,  at 
the  same  time  eating  away  with  a  fearful 
appetite,  and  uttering  loudest  lamentations 
with  her  mouth  full. 

The  stuttering  gardener  made  the  propo- 
sal that  they  should  remain,  but  should 
make  a  joint  demand  for  higher  wages. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


449 


All  agreed  to  do  this,  except  Joseph  and 
the  Cooper,  but  were  puzzled  how  it  could 
be  brought  about. 

"The  subterraneans  were  unanimous  in 
their  eulogies  of  Pranken.  He  was  a  no- 
bleman whose  like  could  not  be  found,  who 
did  not  desert  the  master  for  a  single  mo- 
ment. He  bad  ridden  out  with  him  in  the 
broad  daylight,  and  did  not  concern  him- 
self as  to  what  his  noble  relatives  might  say 
of  him. 

Here,  underground,  they  were  also  glad 
to  know  that  men  were  ungrateful  and 
base.  ^It  was  even  known  here  that  Son- 
nenkamp had  made  a  present  of  the  Villa 
to  the  Cabinetsrath,  for  what  the  latter  had 
given  for  it  was  only  a  trifling  sum ;  and 
now  the  gardener  of  the  Cabinetsrath  had 
reported  that  the  country-house  and  the 
vineyard  had  just  been  sold  to  the  American 
Consul,  as  a  sort  of  gibe  at  Sonnenkamp  ; 
for  the  family  of  the  Cabinetsrath  wished 
to  have  no  more  intercourse  with  Villa 
Eden. 

In  just  the  same  way,  although  by  men 
of  a  different  position  in  society,  were  Son- 
nenkamp's  circumstances  discussed  in  the 
military  club-house  of  the  capital,  as  well 
as  in  the  beer-houses.  For  some  time, 
Adams,  the  negro  servant  of  the  Prince, 
had  everywhere  been  the  topic  of  conversa- 
tion. There  were  various  wonderful  sto- 
ries how  five  men  were  hardly  able  to  re- 
strain the  raving  negro  ;  that  he  had  tried  to 
choke  Sonnenkamp,  —  only  with  the  great- 
est difficulty  had  they  succeeded  in  getting 
him  out  of  the  capital,  and  removing  him  to 
a  hunting-seat.  Then  the  conversation 
would  turn  upon  Sonnenkamp.  Even- 
body  asked  what  he  would  do  now  ;  no  one 
could  understand  how  it  was  that  Pranken 
stood  by  him,  and  how  the  family  permitted 
such  a  thing.  In  the  military  club-house 
there  was  also  an  Ursel,  but  here  she  took 
the  form  of  a  pensioned  lady  of,  high  rank, 
who  also  ate  heartily,  and,  while  eating, 
spoke  very  compassionately  of  the  poor 
children  of  the  millionaire. 

But  the  conversation  took  a  very  peculiar 
turn  in  the  house  of  Dr.  Richard,  where 
they  were  to-day  giving  a  great  coffee- 
party  in  honor  of  Frau  Weidmann,  whö  had 
come  on  a  visit ;  it  had  been  arranged  sev- 
eral days  before,  and  the  Professorin,  Aunt 
Claudine,  Frau  Ceres,  and  Manna  had 
been  invited  ;  of  course  they  did  not  come. 
Here  and  there  they  were  earnestly  discuss- 
ing how  they  should  treat  the  Sonnenkamp 
family,  if  they  had  the  audacity  not  to  leave 
the  country  as  soon  as  possible. 

Lina,  who  had  returned  from  the  trip 
with  her  betrothed,  said  that  she  would  be 


the  same  in  Sonnenkamp's  family  that  she 
had  always  been,  and  that  she  would  re- 
main Manna's  friend ;  for  wherever  the 
Professorin  was,  there  any  one  might  main- 
tain social  intercourse  without  detriment  to 
one's  honor. 

The  tone  of  the  conversation  became 
kindly  as  Frau  Weidmann  gave  unreserved 
support  to  Lina ;  she  spoke  of  the  noble 
character  of  Roland,  who  had  been  on  a 
visit  to  her  house,  and  of  the  solid  worth  of 
Eric,  whom  her  husband  held  in  very  high 
esteem. 

Thus  every  one  in  the  house,  as  well  as 
in  the  neighborhood,  seemed  to  be  putting 
himself  right,  and  adopting  a  moderate, 
kindly  tone  towards  the  Sonnenkamp  fam- 
ily. But  the  bitter,  detestable  conse- 
quences of  the  occurrence  manifested  them- 
selves in  the  green  cottage  on  Sunday 
morning. 

During  the  hour  before  mass,  the  indi- 
gent neighbors  used  to  come  for  their  reg- 
ular weekly  allowance ;  to-day  there  came 
only  one  solitary  woman,  in  a  sorry  plight. 
She  was  a  drunkard's  wife,  who  was  forever 
complaining  and  lamenting;  she  was  con- 
stantly, fretting  about  two  children,  one  of 
which  she  held  in  her  arms,  and  the  other 
she  led  by  her  side. 

It  was  Only  with  some  difficulty  that  the 
Professorin  had  brought  herself  to  furnish 
assistance  to  this  woman,  because  she  was 
afraid  that  the  drunkard  would  only  be 
made  more  shiftless  by  so  doing ;  she  had 
yielded  to  the  persuasion  of  Fraulein  Milch, 
though  she  generally  cut  the  talkative 
woman  short.  But  she  had  to  listen  pa- 
tiently to-day,  now  that  the  woman  came 
alone  and  no  others  were  there.  The  Pro- 
fessorin trembled  when  the  woman  said  to 
her :  — 

"Yes,  yes,  such  is  the  world!  It's  a 
topsy-turvy  world.  My  husband  makes 
wife  and  children  unhappy  because  he 
squanders  everything,  and  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp  makes  wife  and  children  unhappy 
because  he  has  got  everything.  Yes,  just 
so  !    It's  a  world  turned  upside  down." 

She  assured  the  Professorin  that  she 
would  take  none  of  the  gold  of  the  slave- 
trader,  if  she  could  help  herself  in  any 
other  way. 

And  out  of  this  gold  my  son  is  to  enrich 
himself,  said  the  Professorin,  to  herself, 
sitting  there  alone  soon  afterwards,  as  the 
bells  were  ringing.  She  sat  quiet  for  a  long 
time.    Then  Eric  came  in  and  said  : 

"Ah  mother,  another  dreadful  thing  has 
happened  !  " 

"  Something  new  ?  Still  another  dread- 
ful thing  ?    What  has  happened  ?  " 


450 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"lie  was  bold  and  defiant;  he  went  to 
church  with  Pranken." 
"Who  did?" 

"Herr  Sonnenkamp.  And  when  he 
came  out  of  the  church,  there  stood  all  the 
people  in  a  row,  looking  at  him.  He  went 
up  to  a  poor  man  and  handed  him  a  gold 
piece ;  the  poor  man  took  the  money,  and 
then  threw  it  away,  exclaiming :  '  I  will 
have  nothing  from  you  !  1  And  they  all 
cried  out :  *  We  want  nothing  more  from 
you  !  Take  yourself  out  of  the  country.1 
Sonnenkamp  went  away,  the  piece  of  gold 
is  still  lying  there  before  the  church  door, 
and  no  one  will  pick  it  up.  O  mother,  the 
people  are  great  and  horrible  at  the  same 
time." 

"  Did  you  see  it  too  ?  Where  did  you 
hear  about  it?  Were  you  too  at  the 
church  ?  " 

"  No;  Manna  and  Roland  told  me,  and 
now  they  are  sitting  in  the  garden  together, 
and  weeping.  I  have  hastened  to  you,  for 
you  only  can  help  us.  Comfort  them, 
strengthen  them."  4 

"  I  have  done  all  I  can,"  said  the  Mother ; 
"  I  am  too  weak,  and  I  am  afraid  I  shall 
be  ill." 

Eric  called  his  aunt  to  remain  with  his 
mother,  and  returned  to  Roland  and 
Manna. 

The  Doctor  was  sent  for  that  very  after- 
noon.   The  Professorin  was  sick. 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  WHOLESOME  ILLNESS. 

She  whom  all  depended  upon,  to  whom 
every  one  repaired,  sure  of  care  and  assist- 
ance, —  she  was  now  unexpectedly  in  want 
of  assistance  herself,  and  was  in  a  danger- 
ous condition.  The  remarkable  events  and 
vicissitudes  some  had  begun  to  overcome 
by  means  of  their  youthful  strength,  by  stern 
defiance,  and  others  by  indifference ;  the 
Professorin  alone  felt  a  constant  gnawing 
at  her  heart  day  and  night. 

Eric  had  remarked  several  days  before, 
although  he  ascribed  it  to  the  sudden  shock 
she  had  received,  that  his  mother,  when  he 
was  walking  before  her  hand  in  hand  with 
Manna,  took  everything  cordially  and 
kindly,  but  still  dully,"  and  as  if  weighed 
down  by  some  feeling  of  depression.  His 
mother  was  in  the  habit  of  seeking  help 
from  no  one,  she  had  always  the  power  of 
assisting  others,  and  in  this  doing  for  others 
she  always  found  renewed  strength. 

From  the  day  on  which  .Fraulein  Milch 
made  that  communication  to  her,  it  had 
been  different ;  she  performed  only  mechan- 
ically the  duties,  which  had  previously  been 


executed  with  such  freedom  and  animation. 

From  that  day  forth,  she  had  determined 
to  keep  clear  of  every  luxurious  indulgence 
which  this  ostentatious  man  might  feellike 
putting  in  her  way,  and  this  she  would  do 
in  a  modest  and  retiring  manner ;  from 
that  day  forth  she  looked  upon  herself  as  a 
traveller  receiving  temporary  hospitalities, 
for  all  the  home  feeling  of  comfort  had  been 
taken  aAvay  from  her.  She  was  prepared  at 
any  hour  to  pack  up  all  that  she  possessed, 
and  all  that  was  arranged  in  such  a  quiet 
way  about  her,  and  remove  to  some  other 
place. 

She  had  never  in  her  life  been  troubled 
by  regret,  she  had  done  nothing  for  which 
she  could  reproach  herself,  or  the  memory 
of  which  was  to  be  effaced;  but  now  she 
was  beset  by  a  constant  feeling  of  regret. 

Why  had  she  been  so  thoughtless  as  to 
connect  herself  with  such  a  mysterious  and 
disintegrated  family  ? 

Joy  and  grief  affected  her  by  turns,  like 
one  suffering  under  the  delirium  of  fever. 

Eric's  happiness  in  loving  Manna  and 
being  so  deeply  loved,  which  before  had  ex- 
cited within  her  such  a  blissful  pleasure,  she 
now  listened  to  and  looked  upon  with  an 
•almost  forced  interest;  and  when  Bella  had 
so  deeply  mortified  her,  she  could  scarcely 
make  any  resistance,  for  it  seemed  to  her  as 
if  it  concerned  someone  else,  and  had  no  re- 
lation to  herself.  Thus  she  lived  estranged 
from  herself,  but  made  no  complaint,  hoping 
that  everything  would  right  itself.  She  had 
no  idea  that  there  was  an  inward  disturbance 
and  distraction  which  would  show  itself  on 
the  first  favorable  opportunity.  Now,  when 
the  needy  declined  charity  at  her  hands, 
that  inexpressible  sadness,  so  long  hidden 
and  repressed,  broke  forth.  It  seemed  to 
her  inexplicable  that  her  only  son,  her  all 
in  this  world,  was  to  be  engrafted  into  this 
family. 

The  Doctor  had  found  the  Mother  in  a 
state  of  febrile  excitement ;  he  gave  her  a 
composing  draught ;  but  the  opinion  which 
he  expressed  before  Eric,  Manna,  and 
Roland,  had  a  still  more, quieting  effect. 
The  Mother  complained  that  she  had  never 
known  how  much  people  could  be  at  variance 
with  themselves  and  with  others.  The  Doc- 
tor replied,  with  a  smile,  that  people  were 
not  generally  so  nice  in  their  housekeeping 
as  she  was,  aud,  referring  to  Sonnenkamp, 
said  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  zone  of 
mind,  or  whatever  else  you  may  choose  to 
call  it,  which  furnishes  organizations  entire- 
ly exotic,  but  which  nevertheless  have  their 
natural  conditions,  as  our  customary,  every- 
day ones  have.  The  constant  solitary  spe- 
culation and  refining  of  thought,  the  recur- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


451 


ring  to  her  life  with  her  husband,  there  thor- 
oughly, deep-seated  melancholy  of  the  noble 
woman  showed  itself  in  an  increased  sensi- 
tiveness and  irritability;  and  it  had  reached 
such  a  point  that  fears  were  entertained  for 
her  life  ;  something  might  occur  which  would 
be  the  occasion  of  suddenly  extinguishing 
this  flickering  flame  of  life. 

Eric,  Manna,  and  Roland,  trembling  and 
apprehensive,  surrounded  the  Mother  with 
constant  care,  and  in  this  anxiety  for  an- 
other, there  was  a  great  deliverance  for 
themselves.  The  Doctor  once  said  in  the 
library  to  Eric  :  — 

"  If  your  mother  had  become  sick  on  pur- 
pose, it  would  have  been  one  of  the  wisest 
things  she  could  have  done ;  for  it  helps  you 
all  to  get  possession  of  yourselves.1' 

Sonnenkamp  also  expressed  profound 
sympathy,  but  he  felf  provoked ;  it  is  not 
now  the  time  for  sickness,  every  one  must 
now  stand  erect  so  as  to  bear  up  under  the 
storm.  After  some  days,  however,  he  found 
the  Professorin's  illness  very  opportune  ;  it 
took  some  time  to  get  accustomed  to  the 
new  order  of  things  ;  he  even  admitted  to 
himself  directly,  that  he  would  not  regret 
it  much  if  the  Professorin  should  die;  that 
would  produce  a  change  of  feeling,  and  in 
the  mean  while  everything  was  getting  bet- 
ter very  fast. 

Ffäulein  Milch  did  not  suffer  Manna  to 
devote  herself  entirely  to  the  Professorin  as 
she  wished  to  do,  and  she  herself  was  the 
best  of  nurses." 

The  Major  went  about  in  utter  desolation. 
More  than  any  one  else,  not  even  excepting 
the  children,  he  was  the  most  deeply  affect- 
ed, perhaps,  by  the  disclosure  ofSonnen- 
kamp's  past  life. 

"The  world  is  right;  that  is,  Fräulein 
Milch  is  right,"  he  was  all  the  time  saying. 
"  She  has  told  me  all  along  that  I  don't  know 
men,  and  she's  right." 

In  the  mean  while,  he  found  a  good  place 
of  refuge ;  he  went  to  see  Weidmann,  at 
Mattenheim,  for  a  couple  of  days. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  BLACK  WAVE. 

On  Sunday  evening  a  bustling  crowd 
was  streaming  along  the  white  road,  up 
and  down  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  to 
and  fro  between  the  vineyards,  all  seeming 
to  have  one  end  in  view. 

Sonnenkamp,  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  was 
sitting  on  the  flat  roof  of  his  house,  gazing 
with  a  sensation  of  dizziness  upon  the  sur- 
rounding landscape.  Once  he  walked  to 
the  eaves.  His  brain  reeled,  and  he  wanted 
to  throw  himself  off. 


So  then  it  was  all  over,  the  hard  thinking 
and  everything !  Nevertheless  he  stepped 
back  again,  and  sat  upon  the  flat  roof  until 
nightfall. 

Suddenly  his  ear  was  struck  by  howls, 
cat-calls,  hootings,  rattling  and  clashing,  as 
"though  hell  itself  had  been  let  loose. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet.  Are  these  sounds 
within  him  ?  Is  this  all  imagination  ?  He 
hears  them  distinctly ;  the  noise  comes 
from  beneath.  It  rises  from  the  road,  and- 
he  descries  by  the  torchlight  fantastic  figures 
with  black  faces.  Is  that,  too,  only  imagi- 
nation ?  Have  they  come  hither  from  the 
other  world,  those  creatures  with  human 
forms  ? 

"  You  must  leave  the  country  !  " 

"  Begone  to  your  blacks  !  " 

"We'll  fetch  him  out,  and  paint  him 
black  too  !  " 

"  And  we'll  tie  him  on  his  black  nag,  and 
lead  him  through  the  country,  shouting  : 
1  Look  at  him  !  '  " 

Then  followed  more  whistling,  bawling, 
crashing,  rattling,  and  a  sharp,  jangling 
sound,  produced  by  banging  pots  and  ket- 
tles together.    It  was  a  most  infernal  din. 

Then  arose  in  Sonnenkamp's  memory  a 
vision  of  the  past,  —  the  image  of  a  man 
accused  of  having  incited  slaves  to  revolt, 
driven  through  the  streets,  naked,  tarred 
and  feathered,  pelted  with  rotten  apples  and 
cabbage  stumps.  The  scene  changed,  and 
on  the  gallows  hung  John  Brown. 

The  report  of  a  gun  was  heard,  and  the 
voice  of  Pranken,  crying  :  — 

"  Shoot  the  dogs  down  !  I'll  take  the  re- 
sponsibility !  " 

Only  one  more  shot  resounded  ;  then  the 
raging  mob  came  surging  against  the  gate, 
•which  gave  way  with  a  crash,  and  in  rushed 
the  frantic  rabble,  all  with  black  faces,  and 
the  cry  arose  :  — 

"  We'll  choke  the  whole  of  'em  !  " 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Give  him  up,  or  we'll  smash  everything 
to  pieces  !  " 

Sonnenkamp  hastened  down  from  the 
roof  through  the  house,  and,  standing  on 
the  open  balcony,  heard  Eric's  voice,  warn- 
ing the  crowd  in  powerful  tones  :  — 

"Are  you  men?  Are  you  Germans? 
Who  has  made  judges  of  you  ?  Speak  !  I 
will  answer  you.  You  are  bringing  misery 
upon  yourselves.  You  will  be  recognized 
and  detected,  in  spite  of  your  blackened 
faces.  To-morrow  will  come  the  appointed 
judge  ;  for  we  live  in  a  well-governed  coun- 
try, and  you  are  all  of  vou  amenable  to  the 
law." 

"  We  don't  want  to  touch  the  Captain  !  " 
cried  a  voice  from  the  crowd. 


452 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Eric  continued,  — 

"  If  there  is  one  among  you  who  can  tell 
what  you  want,  let  him  come  forward." 

A  man  with  blaekened  face,  whom  Eric 
did  not  recognize,  stepped  forth  and  said,  — 

"  Captain,  it's  me,  the  Screamer;  let  me 
speak.  The  new  wine  has  got  into  our* 
folks1  heads  below  there.  I'm  as  sober  as 
a  cat,"  added  he, 'stammering. 

"  But  what  do  they  want?  11 

"  They  wish  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  or 
whatever  his  name  is,  should  leave  our  part 
of  the  country,  and  go  where  he  belongs." 

44  Yes  !    Let  him  take  himself  off!  " 

'*  And  give  me  back  my  meadow  !  " 

"  And  me  my  vineyard  !  " 

"  And  me  my  house  !  " 

Such  were  the  cries  uttered  by  the  mob. 

Claus  quickly  joined  Eric  on  the  steps, 
and  called  to  the  rabble,  — 

"If  you  go  on  shouting  out  such  crazy 
stuff,  and  speaking  all  together,  I'll  be  the 
first  to  choke  any  one  who  tries  to  get  into 
the  house." 

"Let  him  be  off!" 

"Let  him  clear  out!"  "Hustle  him 
out !  "  was  the  general  cry. 

Jxst  as  this  was  yelled  forth,  Sonnenkamp 
appeared  on  the  steps.  The  howling,  shriek- 
ing, and  kettle-banging  began  anew  ;  stones 
crashed  through  the  great  window-panes. 

The  Screamer,  hastening  up  the  steps, 
placed  himself  before  Sonnenkamp,  say* 
ing,  — 

"  Keep  still:  I'll  protect  you." 

Then  he  shouted,  yet  more  violently,  — 

"  If  you  say  one  word  more,  and  if  every 
man  doesn't  hold  his  neighbor,  so  that  he 
can't  move  his  arms,  I'll  be  the  first  to  shoot 
you  down,  without  caring  whether  I  hit  the 
innocent  or  the  guilty." 

"  Men,  what  have  I  done  to  you  ?  "  cried 
Sonnenkamp. 

"Cannibal!  " 

"  Kidnapper  ! " 

"  Slave  dealer!  " 

"  And  if  I  were,"  exclaimed  Sonnenkamp, 
"  what  gives  you  the  right  to  judge  me  ?  " 

"  You  must  clear  out  of  this  !  " 

"Make  yourself  scarce!  "  was  the  cry 
from  beneath. 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  and  you,  Captain," 
said  Claus,  hastily  addressing  them  both, 
"  I  only  joined  this  savage  troop,  because  I 
saw  it  was  no  use  trying  to  hold  them  back, 
but  I've  caught  them  by  the  halter,  and  if 
you'll  just  leave  everything  to  me,  we'll 
make  a  carnival  sport  out  of  the  whole  con- 
cern. You  speak  first,  Captain,  and  I  beg 
you  to  keep  still,  Herr  Sonnenkamp." 

"  My  men,"  began  Eric,  "  let  the  stones 
alone.    Do  you  know  the  great  word,  — 


1  lie  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him 
first  cast  a  stone  ! '  Has  not  every  one  of 
you  done  something  that  " 

"  We've  never  sold  men  !  Oh  !  the  ogre  !  " 
they  cried  from  below. 

Eric  could  say  no  more.  At  this  juncture 
Manna  appeared,  holding  a  branched  can- 
dlestick with  two  lighted  candles.  A  cry 
of  astonishment  went  through  the  crowd ; 
then  all  was  still  for  a  second,  all  eyes  being 
rivetted  on  the  girl  as  she  stood  there, 
pale,  with  sparkling  eyes  and  dishevelled 
hair. 

Roland,  placing  himself  beside  Eric, 
called  out  in  a  voice  which  resounded  far 
and  wide,  — 

"  Stone  us  !  Tear  us  in  pieces  !  Come 
on  ;  we  are  unarmed  !  " 

"  We  don't  want  to  hurt  the  children  !  " 

"  But  the  man-seller  must  begone  !  " 

"  Yes,  he  must  clear  out !  " 

"Be  off!  " 

Again  the  tumult  seemed  increasing,  the 
rioters  pushing  one  another  forward.  All 
at  once  they  recoiled,  even  those  upon  the 
steps  shrinking  back.  Beneath  the  great 
door-way  a  white-robed  form  appeared,  and 
her  hair  was  gray. 

The  noisy  wretches  in  the  court  were 
struck  dumb,  gazing  upward  with  glances 
of  amazement.  Those  assembled  on  the 
steps,  turning  round,  saw  the  Professorin, 
standing  there  like  a  being  from  another 
world.,  from  the  boundless  space  of  Eternity. 
Stepping  quietly  to  the  balustrade,  she  first 
raised  and  then  lowered  her  hands  as  in 
blessing,  as  if  calming  the  stormy  waves. 
Profound  silence  reigned,  and  she  spoke  in 
tones  which  might  be  heard  a  gj'eat  way  off : 

"  No  man  can  expiate  his  brother's  sin  by 
wrong-doing.  Do  not  sin  yourselves.  Re- 
strain yourselves,  lest  to-morrow  you  weep 
over  to-day." 

Her  voice  grew  more  powerful,  as  she 
said :  — 

' '  Conquer  yourselves  !  " 

Laying  her  hand  on  Sonnenkamp's  shoul- 
der, she  said,  in  sonorous  tones :  — 

"  I  promise  you  that  this  man,  who  has 
already  done  good,  shall  perform  a  deed  so 
great  as  to  reconcile  you  all  to  him.  Do 
you  believe  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  believe  the  Professorin  !  " 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Professorin!  Huzza! 
Huzza ! " 

"  Come  along  home  !    It's  enough  !  " 

A  man  carrying  a  drum  struck  up  a  march, 
when,  just  as  the  mob  was  about  to  depart, 
something  came  rattling  along,  helmets 
gleamed,  the  fire-engine  came  up,  and  a  jet 
of  water  suddenly  spurted  over  them  all.  A 
like  shower  came  from  the  other  side ;  for 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


453 


Joseph  bad  hastened  to  the  head-gardener's, 
and  the  hose  was  now  used  with  effect.  The 
stream  from  either  side  rose  high  into  the 
air,  and  they  all  went  off,  grumbling,  laugh- 
ing, and  cursing. 

The  men  were  still  standing  on  the  steps, 
and  Eric  was  the  first  to  speak,  saying :  — 

"Mother,  you  here?  And  from  your 
sick-bed  ?    This  may  cause  your  death.11 

"  No,  my  son,  it  has  given  life  to  me,  to 
you,  to  all,  and  purity  to  all.  I  am  ill  no 
longer;  a  great  and  beautiful  and  fortunate' 
deed  has  saved  me.1' 

Sonnenkamp,  taking  off  his  cloak, wrapped 
the  Professorin  in  it,  and  they  led  the  old 
lady,  whose  eyes  shone  wonderfully,  into 
the  great  hall,  where  she  sat  down,  while 
they  all  stood  around  her  as  about  a  saint. 

Manna,  kneeling  before  her,  took  her 
hands,  and  wept  copious  tears  upon  them. 

"  Now  I  only  beg  for  quiet,11  said  the 
Professorin.  "I  am  calm  ;  give  me  no  fur- 
ther excitement  now.  I  heard  it,  I  know 
not  how ;  I  came  hither,  I  know  not  how. 
Something  called  and  impelled  me,  and  it 
has  ended  well.  Oh,  believe  that  every- 
thing will  yet  turn  out  for  the  best.  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  give  me  your  hand.  I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

,"I  will  fulfil  whatever  you  may  com- 
mand." 


I  "  You  must  do  something,  although  I  do 
not  yet  know  what,  in  order  to  pacify  the 
minds  of  these  people.11 

"  I  will.  I  will  summon  a  jury,  in  the 
choice  of  which  you  must  assist  me.  To 
them  I  will  unfold  my  life,  and  into  their 
hands  I  will  leave  the  decision  of  what  is  to 
be  done." 

"  That  is  a  happy  idea.  To-morrow  we 
will  carry  it  out.  Now  it  is  enough,"  said 
the  Professorin,  in  a  tone  soothing  to  the 
others  and  to  herself.  "  Manna,  go  to  your 
mother,"  added  she. 

Manna  left  the  room. 

It  was  late  before  those  assembled  in  the 
Villa  separated.  The  Professorin  must 
spend  the  night  there.  Sonnenkamp  would 
not  have  it  otherwise.  He  gave  her  the 
best  room  in  the  house,  and  Eric  sat  by  his 
mother's  bed  until  she  fell  asleep. 

But  without,  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine, 
stood  a  multitude,  washing  their  black  faces 
clean  again,  and  recovering  from  the  effects 
of  the  new  wine.  In  the  night  a  black  wave 
rolled  past  the  Villa,  and  down  the  river  to 
the  sea. 

Oh  !  If  the  black  deed  could  only  be  thus 
wiped  off,  and  sunk  in  the  ocean  of  Eter- 
nity !  \ 


454 


TUE  COÜNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


BOOK  XIII.     CHAPTER  I. 
OBLITERATED  TRACES. 

The  gardeners  raked  smooth  the  foot- 
paths :  thev  bound  up  the  down-trodden 
shrubs  again,  removing  the  broken  ones. 
Even  the  grooms  assisted  to-day  in  the 
garden,  while  up  in  the  house  the  glaziers 
were  already  busy,  putting  in  new  squares 
of  plate-glass.  "When  the  gentlemen  and 
ladies  wake  up.  they  shall  see  as  little  as 
possible  ot*  last  night's  tumult. 

No  one  in  the  whole  house  awoke  until 
the  morning  was  far  spent.  Even  Manna 
was  not  visible.  Perhaps  this  was  the  first 
time  in  her  lite  that  she  had  omitted  going 
to  chureh.  The  night's  experience  had 
been  hard  for  her  to  bear  ;  for  when,  after 
the  riot,  she  came  to  her  mother,  the  latter 
kept  crying  out.  — 

'*  They  will  tar  and  feather  him  !  They 
will  tar  and  feather  him  !  Oh !  why  did  he 
go  among  our  enemies  ?  " 

Her  mother  put  her  fingers  in  her  ears ; 
and  when  Manna  tried  to  describe  how  the 
Professorin  had  appeared  as  a  rescuing 
angel,  Frau  Ceres  broke  into  loud  laughter. 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  Europeans  allow  old 
women  to  tame  them  !  " 

Manna  was  silent,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands.  She  had  heard  this  riot  long 
beforehand  in  spirit ;  and,  as  she  stood  on 
the  steps,  she  had  felt  that  all  this  had  pre- 
viously been  made  known  to  her  in  dreams, 
and  that  it  would  vanish  like  a  dream. 

Then,  remembering  her  love,  she  realized 
that  life  cannot  be  sacrified  to  another  as 
an  expiation,  but  that  it  can  be  exalted 
ibr  another's  sake.  Once  again  horror 
seized  upon  her  soul.  She  heard  the  voices 
of  hell,  and  a  hell  opened  within  her.  Hast 
thou  sinned  in  proving  faithless  '?  Would 
every  thing  have  been  better,  would  the 
dreadful  thing  not  have  happened,  if  thou 
hadst  remained  true  ?  Who  knows  whether, 
through  some  secret  working,  every  thing- 
did  not.  become  publicly  known  in  the 
capital  in  the  very  hour  of  thy  perfidy  ? 

She  wished  to  make  her  thoughts  like 
those  of  the  martyrs,  who  endured  stoning 
with  bowed  heads  ;  but,  in  the  midst  of  this 
violent  soul-torment,  she  only  saw  Eric's 
image  again  ;  and  rising,  as  though  he  had 
called  her.  she  felt  as  if  his  hand  were  laid 
upon  her  head. 

Thus  had  Manna  returned  to  her  room, 
full  of  tear,  and  yet  rising  again  as  upon  a 
wave  of  happiness  :  and  thus  she  slept  far  into 
the  day,  hearing  nothing  of  the  voice  of  the 
bell  which  called  her,  and  with  no  suspicion 


of  what  was  now  being  said  about  her ;  for 
not  far  from  the  church  stood  Pranken  with 
Fraulein  Perini. 

Ever  since  his  return  from  town,  Pranken 
had  felt  a  fresh  irritation,  which  directed 
it  seit"  more  and  more  against  Eric  ;  and, 
at  the  arrival  of  Prince  Valerian,  he  was 
highly  incensed  on  observing  how  every  one 
went  instantly  to  Erie's  chamber,  as  though 
Eric  were  the  centre  of  the  house.  "  This 
shall  be  changed,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  This 
teacher  must  find  out  who  he  is."  By  rea- 
son of  the  riot,  however,  this  teacher's 
family  had  again  become  conspicuous  ;  the 
pitiful  canaille  Inning  allowed  themselves 
to  be  soothed  by  an  old  woman. 

Pranken  had  walked  furiously  through 
the  park,  and  finally  took  the  road  leading 
to  the  church.  Here  on  this  road,  now,  on 
this  morning,  he  would  bring  Manna  to  a 
decision  ;  then  he  would  have  his  own  way 
with  the  house,  and  discharge  the  teacher's 
family.  He  waited  long ;  but  Manna  did 
not  come.  At  last,  seeing  Fräulein  Perini 
alone,  he  greeted  her,  and  asked  where 
Manna  Avas,  and  whether  she  was  well. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  after  ?n/j  health?  " 
replied  she  somewhat  tartly.  "I  have 
something  of  great  importance  to  impart  to 
you  ;  but  you  do  not  seem  to  think  it  worth 
while  to  trouble  yourself  about  me." 

"  Indeed  I  do  ;  but  you  should  reflect "  — 

"  I  do  reflect  that  you  ought  to  reflect 
that  I  too  have  an  existence.  However,  I 
have  something  of  great  importance  to 
impart  to  you." 

"  Oh  !  please,  you  were  always  so 
kind  "  — 

"  Yes,  yes,  only  too  kind  ;  but  you  forget 
me  too  quickly.  Well,  then,  what  would 
you  do  if  you  were  told  that  that  arrogant 
tutor  aspired  to  win  the  hand  of  your 
betrothed  ?  " 

Fräulein  Perini  laughed,  and  Pranken 
was  t lightened,  terrified.  He  had  never 
heard  her  laugh  so  ;  and  now  she  laughed 
in  exactly  the  same  tone,  and  made  precisely 
the  same  bending  of  the  neck,  as  little 
Nelly.  How  ridiculous,  how  inconceivable, 
that  she  should  occur  to  his  mind  at  this 
juncture  ! 

"  You  seem  in  a  very  good  humor  after 
the  riot,"  said  he,  trying  to  appear  jocose. 
"  You  must  tell  me  the  rest  after  church  : 
the  third  bell  is  just  ringing." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  can  neglect  church  for  this 
matter.    A  work  of  mercy  absolves  "  — 

"  A  work  of  mercv  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

And  now  Fraulein  Perini  told  how  she 
had  seen  Manna  coming  out  of  Eric's  room; 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


455 


and  how  every  thing  had  evidently  been 
arranged  in  the  greed  cottage,  and  was  now 
settled ;  also  how  the  maid-servant  of  the 
green  cottage  had  even  said  that  Manna 
had  taken  with  her  the  marriage-contract, 
which  had  been  drawn  up  in  the  library. 

Pranken  shook  his  head  incredulously. 
Fräulein  Perini,  however,  stung  him  again 
by  asking  whether  he  would  promise,  in 
case  he  came  into  possession  of  Manna  and 
of  all  her  property,  to  consecrate  the  Villa 
as  a  convent.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders ; 
and  the  look  came  again  into  Fräulein 
Perini's  eyes,  which  she  had  once  given  to 
Bella  after  she  had  turned  away.  She 
stung  and  irritated  Pranken  ;  for  she  saw 
that  he  still  despised  her,  and  she  wished 
to  ruin  him.  He  must  promise  her,  that,  if 
the  affair  proved  inevitable,  he  would  chal- 
lenge this  Herr  Dournay,  and  shoot  him  if 
possible. 

Pranken  looked  bewildered.  Again  an 
old  memory  arose  within  him ;  at  the  time 
that  he  had  travelled  with  Eric  to  Wolfs- 
garten,  he  had  seen  this  as  in  a  vision. 
Must  it  then  take  place  ?  He  demurred,  he 
hung  back ;  he  said  that  then  he  should 
certainly  lose  Manna.  If  he  fell,  then  all 
would  naturally  be  over.  If  he  killed  Eric, 
Manna  would  never  become  the  wife  of  a 
man  who  had  killed  another  on  her  account. 

Fräulein  Perini  cast  down  her  eyes,  in 
order  to  hide  her  malicious  smile.  Tilings 
were  now  taking  exactly  the  turn  she  had 
wished  ;  Manna  should  lose  them  both,  and 
find  in  the  convent  her  only  refuge. 

They  had  talked  so  long  that  church  was 
over,  and  as  the  clergyman  came  out,  Fräu- 
lein Perini  went  with  him,  and  Pranken 
turned  back  towards  the  Villa.  He  met  the 
Doctor  and  Eric,  walking  together  and  en- 
gaged in  earnest  conversation. 

The  Doctor  was  in  as  good  spirits  as  ever, 
and  Avas  expounding  to  Eric  how  the  fresh 
must,  which  is  so  joyously  drunk  and  which 
tastes  so  deliciously,  is,  according  to  the  as- 
sertion of  old  people,  a  real  cure,  building 
the  whole  body  anew,  so  that  it  is  taken 
both  for  enjoyment  and  for  the  health. 
"  Thus  the  crisis  caused  by  the  intoxication 
of  the  new  wine  is  really  good.  So  it  is 
with  this  riot.  It  has  been  beneficial  in 
many  ways.  The  anger  of  the  inhabitants 
of  the  neighborhood  has  exceeded  all  rea- 
sonable bounds,  and  has  thus  lost  all  pre- 
tension of  justice.  On  this  side  there  is 
nothing  more  to  be  feared.  But  even  in  the 
house  itself  it  is  clear  that  life  will  hence- 
forth be  more  vigorous.  That  they  are  all 
sleeping  is  a  good  sign." 

They  met  the  Cooper,  and  the  Doctor 


would  hear  the  whole  story  over  again, 
growing  very  merry  over  the  account  of  the 
effect  produced  in  the  park  by  the  fire- 
engine  and  the  water-works.  The  Cooper 
narrated  how  the  engine  had  been  quickly 
made  ready,  as  Herr  Sonnenkamp  had  pre- 
sented it  with  the  very  best  hose. 

They  soon  met  a  group  of  men,  delegates 
sent  by  the  different  communities  to  assure 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  of  their  readiness  to  pro- 
tect him  in  any  emergency,  if  he  would  only 
abstain  from  bringing  an  action  for  what 
had  occurred. 

The  Doctor  begged  the  men  to  come  back 
on  Sunday,  saying  that  he  would  previously 
inform  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 

He  turned  back  with  Eric,  and  they  were 
not  a  little  surprised  at  finding  the  Profes- 
sorin already  on  the  terrace  with  Manna. 
The  Doctor  joked  very  merrily  over  the 
genius  of  accident,  which  could  accomplish 
more  than  all  science.  He  declared  the 
Professorin  to  be  entirely  cured.  The  Pro- 
fessorin had  recovered  the  best  part  of  her- 
self, namely,  her  calmness,  her  courage,  and 
the  steadfast  firmness  of  her  character,  and 
she  said,  — 

"  There  is  a  wonderful  power  of  healing 
in  being  at  one  with  the  great  common 
heart.  That  which  all  men  know  is  no 
longer  so  heavy  and  horrible ;  the  hardest 
part  of  a  criminal's  fate  must  be  the  feeling 
of  isolation,  of  separation  ;  in  the  midst  of 
all  society  he  must  feel  like  a  secluded  pris- 
oner, for  he  has  something  locked  and  hidden 
within  himself,  which  no  one  else  must  know 
of." 

As  soon  as  the  Professorin  could  trans- 
pose an  event  and  its  consequences  into  the 
sphere  of  abstract  thought,  it  seemed  no 
longer  to  weigh  upon  her.  Above  all  she 
exhorted  her  son  not  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  something  must  be  instantly  done,  say- 
ing that  it  was  of  the  first  importance  to 
keep  still. 

The  Doctor,  on  inquiring  whether  the 
Countess  Bella  had  not  been  there  as  yet, 
was  told  that  she  had  spoken  with  none  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Villa,  except  Herr 
Sonnenkamp. 

"KI  am  not  much  mistaken,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  Countess  Bella  will  henceforth 
feel  an  especial  sympathy  with  the  bold 
Herr  Sonnenkamp.  It  corresponds  with 
her  nature,  which  defies  the  world  and  in- 
clines to  whatever  is  exceptional  and-  ex- 
treme." 

The  Professorin,  although  Bella  had  deep- 
ly wounded  her,  endeavored  to  correct  the 
doctor's  opinion. 
I     Eric  was  silent ;  he  was  amazed  at  the 


456 


THE  COÜNTRY-HOÜ 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


persistency  with  which  the  physician  pur- 
sued and  explained  the  Countess's  peculiar 
nature. 

The  Doctor  sent  to  ask  Sonnenkamp 
whether  he  wished  to  speak  with  hiin.  The 
reply  was,  that  he  would  like  to  have  him 
first  visit  Frau  Ceres. 

"  How  do  I  look  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp  had  put  this  question  to 
Joseph,  his  valet,  before  rising ;  indeed,  on 
first  awaking. 

"  As  usual,  sir." 

He  asked  for  a  hand-glass,  then  giving  it 
again  to  the  servant,  lay  back  among  the 
pillows  with  closed  eyes.  He  must  have 
had  the  strange  idea  that  the  emotions  of 
the  past  night  could  be  read  upon  his  fea- 
tures. It  was  long  ere  he  left  his  chamber. 
He  had  told  Joseph  that  he  wished  to  be 
alone.  He  heard  the  raking  of  the  paths, 
outside,  and  the  steps  of  men  going  to  and 
fro.  He  Avould  wait  until  the  traces  of  de- 
vastation Avithout  were  removed,  as  far  as 
possible  ;  he  would  wait  until  he  was  able 
to  obliterate  the  traces  left  within  him  by 
this  experience.  He  sat  long  alone  ;  only 
his  favorite  dog  was  with  him.  His  heavy 
head  weighed  him  down  like  a  cannon  ball ; 
yet  he  repeated  to  himself,  — 

"  I  must  recover  my  composure ;  for  I 
alone  can  help  myself." 

"  Thou  alone  ?  "  he  asked  again,  and  his 
thoughts  passed  to  Bella.  There  is  a  woman 
such  as  he  has  never  found  before.  There 
is  courage,  power,  genius.  But  in  what  can 
even  she  help  him  ?    Nothing.    No  one. 

Then,  laying  his  hand  on  the  dog's  head, 
he  thought :  "  Two  bugbears  are  the  worst 
enemies  we  have  in  the  world,  —  fear  before 
the  deed,  and  repentance  after  it.  With 
these  quackeries  we  squander  our  existence. 
He  alone  is  fre.e  who  fears  no  future  and 
rues  no  past." 

"  I  will  be  free  !  "  cried  he. 

"  I  am  so  within  myself ;  but  where  will 
freedom  be  allowed  me  ?  I  must  go  back 
to  America.  No,  to  Italy,  to  Paris,  to  new 
surroundings. 

But  the  children,  the  children  !  They 
are  filled  with  thoughts  which  take  from 
them  home  and  parents.  Thy  best  course, 
after  all,  is  to  remain  here,  to  despise  man- 
kind, whose  hatred  will  gradually  be  blunt- 
ed. Perhaps,  too,  there  may  be  found  some 
means  of  appeasing  their  wrath,  which  will 
have  a  penitent  aspect.  Was  it  the  Profes- 
sorin, or  I  myself,  who  spoke  yesterday  of  a 
jury  ?  That's  the  thing !  Come  on,  World  ! 
I  am  myself  again,  and  nothing  else. 

High  above  all  these  recent  occurrences 
arose  again  in  him  the  hatred  of  Crutius. 

"  How  he  is  now  rubbing  his  hands  in  his 


editorial  office,  where  the  little  gas-jet  burns ! 
How  he  will  rejoice  at  the  signal-rocket 
which  has  roused  the  masses  !  How  the 
riot  will  figure  in  the  newspapers  I " 

He  now  rang,  and,  sending  for  Eric,  re- 
minded him  how  he  had  formerly  publicly 
exalted  the  gratitude  and  good  manners  of 
the  people.  Now,  he  said  with  a  laugh,  he 
must  also  properly  expose  their  misbeha- 
vior ;  he  must,  anticipating  all  other  re- 
ports, describe  the  whole  thing  naturally  as 
an  extravagance  inspired  by  the  new  and 
effervescent  wine.  At  the  close,  he  must 
add  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp  (for  that  was 
his  name,  lawfully  derived  from  the  mater- 
nal side  of  the  house)  would  do  something 
which  should  correct  and  satisfy  public 
opinion. 

He  thought  Eric  pedantic,  for  wishing  to 
know  at  once  whether  any  thing  was  to  be 
done. 

What's  the  use  ? 

We  show  the  public  something  prospec- 
tive ;  but  it  is  not  necessary  that  this  should 
be  brought  to  pass ;  men  forget  what  has 
been  promised  them. 

This  he  wished  to  say  to  Eric,  but  with- 
held it,  merely  telling  him  that  he  might 
let  the  whole  thing  alone  if  he  chose. 

Just  as  Eric  had  left  the  room,  came  the 
dog-keeper,  exclaiming,  — 

"  Oh,  sir,  she  is  poisoned  !  " 

"  Who  is  poisoned  ?  " 

"  The  good  beastie,  Nora ;  in  the  night, 
during  the  riot,  the  shameful  men  gave  her 
something,  apparently  a  toadstool  roasted 
in  grease.    She  is  dying  now." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Before  the  kennel." 

Sonnenkamp  went  with  the  keeper  to  the 
enclosure  where  the  dogs  were.  There  lay 
Nora,  with  her  loosened  chain  beside  her. 

"  Nora  !  "  he  cried. 

The  dog  wagged  its  tail  once  more,  raised 
its  head,  and  blinked.  Then  the  head  fell, 
and  she  was  dead. 

The  glance  of  the  beast  was  piteous. 
Sonnenkamp  seemed  to  wish  to  torture  him- 
self with  gazing  at  her. 

"  Bury  the  dog  before  Roland  sees  her,  he 
said  at  last. 

"  Where  shall  we  bury  her  ?  " 

Yonder,  by  the  ash.  But  first  skin  her : 
the  hide  is  worth  something. 

"No,  sir,  I  cannot :  I  loved  the  dog  too  well 
to  skin  it." 

"Very  well.     Then  bury  it  skin  and  all." 

He  turned  away  and  wandered  about  the 
garden  ;  yet  he  could  not  refrain  from  re- 
turning to  the  spot  where  the  dog  was  being 
buried. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  aloud  to  himself :  "  that's 


THE  COÜNTRY-HOÜ 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


457 


the  "way.  The  world  gives  us  a  toadstool 
roasted  in  fat.  The  world  is  a  toadstool 
roasted  in  fat — palatable,  but  poisonous  !  " 

He  returned  to  the  house. 

The  other  dogs  were  howling  quite 
frightfully,  as  though  they  knew  that  one  of 
their  comrades  had  departed. 

CHAPTER  II. 
TWELVE  MEN. 

Pranken,  who  remained  true  to  Sonnen- 
kamp, was  often  full  of  solicitude.  At  times 
he  looked  very  strangely  at  his  friends,  but 
did  not  give  utterance  to  his  projects.  Son- 
nenkamp knew  that  something  was  going  on. 
He  knew  through  Lootz  that  Pranken  had 
several  times  received  letters  with  large 
seals,  one  bearing  the  seal  of  the  Court- 
Marshal's  office,  another  that  of  the  Minis- 
try of  State.  He  would  have  liked  to 
ask  him  whether  negotiations  were  pend- 
ing, with  a  view  to  the  attainment  of  the 
longed-for  dignity.  He  looked  at  him  in- 
quiringly ;  but  Pranken  remained  reticent. 
Sonnenkamp  even  pressed  him  not  to  dis- 
dain his  assistance,  saying  that  he  was  wise 
in  some  things,  even  though  he  had  acted 
imprudently. 

Pranken  said  that  there  were  things 
which  he  must  decide  for  himself,  and  which 
he  hoped  to  put  through  successfully.  He 
hinted  that  the  world,  even  the  little  world 
of  the  city,  was  made  up  of  different  fac- 
tions. 

As  he  condescended  to  say  no  more, 
Sonnenkamp  resolved  to  have  recourse  to 
an  old  method,  and  one  which  could  here  be 
very  easily  employed.  He  would  obtain  by 
theft,  through  the  agency  of  Lootz,  the  let- 
ters which  Pranken  had  received.  He  re- 
jected this  course,  however.  Yet  once,  when 
Pranken  had  ridden  in  haste  to  the  railway 
station,  just  after  he  had  received  another 
large  letter,  he  went  toward  his  room.  He 
would  have  no  go-between.  He  could  surely 
get  possession  of  the  letters,  and  Pranken 
was  no  doubt  careless  enough  to  render  un-  1 
necessary  breaking  open  any  locks  or  pick- 
ing them. 

In  a  sudden  attack  of  loyalty,  however,  he 
turned  away  from  the  threshold. 

Pranken  returned,  bringing-the  news  that 
he  was  in  danger ;  but  earnestly  begged  to 
be  excused  from  giving  any  particulars. 

Sonnenkamp  embraced  the  excited  young 
man,  and  made  him  promise  not  to  engage 
in  any  duel  without  his  knowledge. 

Reluctuantly  Pranken  gave  him  his  hand 
upon  this,  and  departed. 

While  Eric  was  yet  at  his  mother's,  Son- 


nenkamp came  thither  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand.  He  first  expressed  his  joy  at  seeing 
the  Professorin  so  full  of  new  life ;  then,  say- 
ing that  he  had  a  letter  from  her  friend,  he 
handed  her  one  written  by  Professor  Einsie- 
del, and  added  with  a  smile : 

"These  learned  gentlemen  have  very  good 
memories.  I  had  forgotten  having  invited 
the  man." 

The  Professorin  read  Einsiedel's  letter,  in 
which  he  said  that  he  should  not  be  lectur- 
ing next  winter,  and  was  ready  to  accept 
Sonnenkamp's  invitation,  and  to  take  up 
his  abode  for  some  time  at  Villa  Eden. 

As  the  Professorin  smilingly  gave  back  the 
letter,  a  gleam  of  furtive  triumph  shot  from 
Sonnenkamp's  eyes.  Then  this  new  speci- 
men of  humanity,  this  puritanic  infidel,  has 
her  own  private  affinity.  Perhaps  she  felt 
the  malicious  glance  ;  for  she  said,  in  a  very 
decided  manner,* — 

"I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  the  noble 
man  come  to  us.  His  visit  would  be  a  great 
deal  to  me,  and,  perhaps,  to  others  also. 
In  the  first  place,  I  know  of  nothing  better 
for  Roland  ;  for  you,  Eric,  are  so  entirely 
accustomed  to  him,  that  you  do  not  now  of- 
fer him  that  support  which  he,  perhaps, 
may  need  for  a  long  time  yet." 

Sonnenkamp's  countenance  relaxed.  It 
was  nothing  after  all.  This  woman  seemed 
in  truth  noble  and  pure ;  for  she  was  not  so 
prudent,  no  one  could  be  so  prudent,  as  to 
assume  forthwith  such  a  mask  of  virtue. 
He  was  not  a  little  astonished,  however, 
when  Eric,  with  all  sorts  of  excuses  and 
pretexts,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  it 
was  not  wise  to  transport  the  Professor's 
delicately  organized  nature  at  this  time  into 
their  stormy  life. 

Just  because  Eric  sought  so  earnestly  to  . 
defend  himself  against  such  a  suspicion,  it 
became  clearer  to  Sonnenkamp  that  he  did 
not  feel  justified  in  bringing  any  new  per- 
son into  close  relations  with  his  family. 

Inwardly  chafing,  but  yet  smiling  with 
an  excess  of  friendliness,  he  said  that  he 
would  invite  the  Professor,  and  would  leave 
him  free  to  stay  either  at  the  green  cottage 
or  at  the  villa. 

The  mother  gave  her  voice  for  the  former. 

Sonnenkamp  nodded  very  approvingly. 
He  summoned  a  servant,  and  ordered  that 
no  one  should  interrupt  them.  Then,  ad- 
dressing both,  he  said  that  he  had  some- 
thing momentous  to  discuss  with  them  ;  that 
it  was  a  step  which  concerned  his  inmost 
soul,  and  which  alone  could  make  him  whol- 
ly free. 

Eric  and  his  mother  trembled.  Did  Son- 
nenkamp already  know  ?  He,  meanwhile, 
seated  himself  calmly  and  began  : 


458 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


"  Noble  lady,  you  have  done  a  great  thing 
for  me,  and  now  I  commit  into  your  hands, 
and  your  keeping,  my  fate  and  that  of  those 
who  belong  to  me."  » 

He  made  a  pause  and  then  proceeded  : 

"  From  out  of  the  midst  of  the  riot  one 
thought  has  remained  with  me.  It  was  of 
sudden  birth ;  •  and  now  the  question  is,  how 
to  carry  it  out.  Already  on  Sunday,  when 
I  was  going  to  church,  where  the  beggar 
insulted  me,  it  was  my  intention  "  — 

"  Pray,  do  not  forget  what  you  were  going 
to  say,"  interposed  the  Professorin.  "  Per- 
mit me  to  interrupt  you  with  a  question." 

"  Go  on.    I  am  ready." 

"  Does  the  source  of  all  your  wealth  lie 
in  that?" 

"  No,  not  a  sixth  of  it.  Even  my  enemies 
know  that." 

"  Then  please  proceed.  You  had  begun, 
*  as  you  were  going  to  church '  "  — 

"  Yes,  then  it  was  my  intention,  in  spite 
of  my  unbelief,  to  confess  to  a  priest.  I 
acknowledge,  Herr  von  Pranken  was  not 
without  influence  in  this  matter;  but  it 
originated,  nevertheless,  with  me.  This 
institution  of  the  confession  in  our  church 
is  a  grand  thing.  Offences  for  which  no 
earthly  judge  can  punish,  for  which  no 
clause  is  to  be  found  in  the  law,  are  blotted 
out ;  we  are  absolved  from  them  by  a  man 
filled  with  the  divine  grace  by  consecration, 
sympathetic,  considerate,  who  neither  knows 
nor  sees  the  penitent,  yet  who  hears  the 
breath  of  his  quivering  confession ;  who  is 
so  far  from  him,  and  yet  so  near  ! 

The  Mother  looked  down. 

"  Wonderful  and  ever  new,  how  the  man 
can  speak  of  such  acts !  "  she  thought. 

Sonnenkamp  felt  what  the  lady  thought 
of  him,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Look  me  in  the  face  !  Yes,  noble  lady, 
you  hindered  the  execution  of  my  purpose." 

it  T  ?  » 

"  Yes,  you ;  for,  thinking  better  of  it,  I 
said  to  myself  that  I  would  tell  you  all, 
gazing  at  your  open  face,  and  that  you  had 
the  power  to  absolve  and  to  blot  out ;  but 
no,  you,  too,  have  it  not." 

The  Professorin  breathed  more  freely. 

Sonnenkamp  continued,  — 

"  You  once  let  fall  the  word  —  I  know  not 
whether  you  spoke  it  or  I  —  but  it  was 
uttered,  and  so  it  stands.  'In  the  new 
world,  where  the  laws  are  not  yet  so  firmly 
established,  they  summon  a  jury  of  neigh- 
bors.' I  wish  to  summon  a  jury  of  free  men, 
before  whom  I  will  stand  openly.  They 
shall  judge  me  freely.  I  wish  to  unite  trial 
by  jury  Avith  confession,  and  I  vow  to  fulfil 
what  these  men  shall  enjoin  upon  me  as  a 


means  of  expiation.  Having  returned  to 
Europe,  I  owe  the  European  world  either  a 
deed  of  atonement,  or  else  the  endeavor  to 
convert  it.  Do  you  comprehend  my  mean- 
ing ?  " 

"  Perfectly.  There  must  be  something 
redeeming,  in  submission  to  the  verdict  of 
an  assemblage  of  free  men." 

"  I  see  that  you  understand  me  fully,"  said 
Sonnenkamp  with  great  serenity.  "  And 
now  give  me  your  advice.  Whom  do  you 
propose  as  members  of  this  moral  jury,  as 
we  may  call  it  ?  In  the  first  place,  I  must 
refuse  Herr  von  Pranken.  He  is  my  son, 
and  cannot  be  my  judge." 

"  I  should  not  be  able  to  name  any  one 
without  reflection.  Please  —  I  am  yet  too 
weak.  This  deliberation,  this  seeking,  this 
thought-travelling,  causes  me  physical  pain." 

"  Then  calm  yourself.  Herr  Dournay, 
you  have  heard  all  —  Have  you,  though  ?  " 
he  repeated,  on  observing  Eric's  abstracted 
glance. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  every  thing." 

"  And  now,  whom  would  you  propose  ?  " 

"  First  of  all,  the  most  sensible  of  men 
has  to-day  himself  announced  his  arrival." 

"  Well,  well,  I  accept  him.    And  then  ?  " 

"  Herr  Weidmann." 

"  Weidmann  ?  He  is  the  uncle  of  my 
most  bitter  enemy." 

"  But  on  that  very  account  he  will  be 
just." 

"  He  was  an  abettor  in  the  production  of 
Herr  Crutius'  newspaper  article." 

"  From  that  imputation  he  is  cleared.  He 
charged  Prince  Valerian  expressly  to  tell 
you  that  he  disapproved  of  Herr  Crutius' 
conduct  throughout." 

"  And  even  if  Herr  Weidmann  were  your 
enemy,"  put  in  the  Professorin  :  "  it  is  just 
your  enemies  whom  you  must  seek  to  con- 
ciliate." 

"  You  are  a  wonderful  woman  :  you  shall 
have  your  way.  You  shall  see  how 
thoroughly  in  earnest  I  am.  So,  then,  Herr 
Weidmann  ;  and  who  else  ?  " 

"  Count  Wolfsgarten." 

"  Accepted  without  opposition.    Go  on  !  " 

"  The  Justice." 

"  Also  accepted." 

"  Then  I  should  like  to  plead  for  a  man 
whom  you,  perhaps  "  — 

"  Only  speak  out  plainly.  Who  is  it  ?  " 
cried  Sonnerkamp  impatiently. 

"  The  field-guard." 

"  The  field-guard?  "  laughed  Sonnenkamp. 
"  For  all  I  care  !  And  I  give  you  the 
Doctor  at  once,  into  the  bargain.  But  now, 
Herr  Dournay,  set  about  it  at  once :  the 
business  must  be  begun  immediately." 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


459 


"Who  will  remain  with  Roland  mean- 
while ? "  Eric  would  have  asked,  but  re- 
strained himself,  in  obedience  to  a  sign  from 
his  mother,  who  seemed  to  have  divined  the 
question  he  would  fain  have  asked.  She 
nodded.  "  You  can  leave  Roland  and 
Manna  to  me,"  she  seemed  to  say. 

"You  have  entirely  forgotten  our  good 
Major,"  she  said  aloud,  in  a  cheerful  tone. 

"  Because  he  is  understood  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  also  the  Priest,"  replied  Sonnen- 
kamp. 

Eric  named,  besides,  Prince  Valerian,  the 
Banker,  and  Knopf.    The  number  was  full. 

Sonnenkamp  urged  that  not  an  hour 
should  be  lost,  and  Eric  ordered  a  horse 
saddled. 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  HAND  OF  RECONCILIATION  IS  NOT 
GRASPED. 

Before  Eric  started,  Manna  came  to 
him,  saying  that  she  must  immediately  go 
to  the  convent;  that  she  thought  it  her 
duty,  above  all,  to  confess  the  truth  there, 
and  that  she  did  not  wish  to  postpone  any 
thing  so  difficult,  but  to  undertake  it  at 
once. 

Eric  was  perplexed.  Why  should  Manna 
wish  to  re-enter  the  convent?  He  soon 
recognized  in  this  desire,  however,  the  im- 
pulse to  do  something,  not  to  remain  in  inac- 
tivity ;  and,  moreover,  the  manner  in  which 
she  sought  to  sever  the  old  ties  in  peace 
was  thoroughly  noble  :  so  he  merely  said,  — 

"  Only  do  not  forget  that  you  are  no 
longer  justified  in  imposing  castigations  and 
mortifications  upon  yourself,  or  in  allowing 
them  to  be  enjoined  upon  you  by  others ; 
for  you  no  longer  belong  to  yourself, 
Manna,  you  are  mine :  you  must  neither 
torture  my  Manna,  nor  allow  others  to  tor- 
ture her." 

Manna  looked  at  him  with  beaming  eyes, 
and  from  out  of  all  her  tribulation  sounded 
a  serene  voice,  as  she  said,  — 

"  It  was  through  you,  Eric,  that  I  came  to 
this  resolution." 

"  Through  me  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  told  me  how  much  good  it 
did  you,  when  one  of  your  comrades,  after 
you  had  taken  leave  of  him,  came  to  you 
and  said,  '  Do  not  think  hardly  of  me  if  I 
ignore  you.  You  could  not  do  otherwise; 
and  I  neither  can  nor  dare  do  otherwise.' 
I  am  going  to  imitate  you  and  your  comrade. 
The  souls  of  those  in  the  convent  shall  not 
be  burdened  with  my  desertion,  which  they 
must  consider  as  apostasy." 


Manna  wished  that  Aunt  Claudine  should 
accompany  her ;  but  Eric  thought  it  more 
fitting  that  she  should  travel  with  Roland. 
The  brother  and  sister  would  thus  be  alone 
together,  out  in  the  world;  and  Roland 
would  have  to  protect  his  sister,  to  render 
her  services  which  would  lift  him  out  of  his 
state  of  dead  dejection,  out  of  his  heavy, 
monotonous  sorrow. 

"  You  can  scarcely  imagine  how  happy 
it  makes  me  to  let  you  command  me,"  said 
Manna,  as  Eric  arranged  every  thing. 

Roland  agreed  at  once. 

"  But  you  must  ask  your  parents'  leave," 
was  the  next  order ;  and  the  children  felt 
painfully  that  this  was  but  a  form  :  every 
thing  was  torn  asunder  and  rent  to  shreds ; 
all  obedience  and  all  dependence. 

"  Manna,  now  is  the  time,"  said  Roland, 
in  great  agitation. 

"  For  what  ?  "  ■ 

"  You  ask  father  ;  perhaps  he  will  tell  you 
whether  we  have  no  blood-relations  in  Eu- 
rope. Whoever  they  may  be,  they  ought 
to  come  to  us  now.  It  is  hard  enough 
that  we  have  never  troubled  ourselves  about 
them." 

Manna  looked  imploringly  up  to  Eric, 
who,  rightly  discerning  in  the  youth  the 
instinctive  longing  for  family  ties,  begged 
them  to  abstain  from  urging  the  matter  for 
the  present,  saying  that  the  time  for  it 
would  come  by  and  by. 

Manna  went  to  her  father,  and  said  that 
she  wished  to  go  to  the  convent. 

Sonnenkamp  was  alarmed,  but  quickly 
regained  his  composure  on  Manna's  adding 
that  she  went  thither  for  the  last  time,  in 
order  to  bid  farewell  forever,  as  she  had 
decided  never  to  become  a  nun. 

In  spite  of  all  its  distortion,  a  gleam  of 
triumphant  satisfaction  lighted  up  Sonnen- 
kamp's  face. 

"  Do  you  see  at  last  ?  They  knew  —  I  now 
have  certain  evidence  that  they  knew — what 
money,  and  in  what  manner  earned,  you 
brought  them.  Did  they  ever  say  a  word 
to  you  about  being  unable  to  accept  it  ?  " 

Manna  avoided  this  view  of  the  question. 
She  would  gladly  have  confessed  all  to  her 
father  at  once,  but  had  not  yet  the  courage. 
Moreover,  she  had  promised  Eric  to  follow 
his  guidance  implicitly. 

The  weather  was  foggy  and  cold,  as  the 
brother  and  sister,  and  Fräulein  Perini,  went 
down  the  river  :  yet  the  journey  refreshed 
them,  for  Roland  said  after  a  short  time,  — 

"  Ah  !  There  is  a  world  outside  after  all !  " 

Towards  noon,  the  sun  pierced  through 
the  mist,  which  melted  away,  and  every  thing 
became  suddenly  bright.  The  vessel  steamed 


460 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


down  the  stream,  shooting  rapidly  along 
over  the  clear  water,  between  the  sun-illu- 
mined mountains,  on  which,  here  and  there, 
harvests  were  still  being  gathered. 

The  passengers  stood  or  walked  on  deck, 
enjoying  the  wide  prospect ;  but  below  in 
the  cabin,  lay  Manna,  with  closed  eyes,  not 
heeding  Fräulein  Perini's  injunction  to  come 
up  and  refresh  herself  with  the  view  and 
the  free  air,  only  begging  to  be  left  alone. 
And  so  she  lay  and  thought,  half  dreaming, 
half  awake,  of  all  that  had  happened  to  her 
and  hers.  How  utterly  different  it  was 
when  she  went  up  the  river,  with  Roland, 
last  spring  !  Eric's  warning  came  into  her 
mind,  how  wealth,  and  the  ease  with  which 
it  enables  one  to  make  disposition  of  exter- 
nal means  and  of  those  who  serve,  seduce  us 
into  healing  ourselves  with  amusements  and 
outward  remedies. 

This  reproach  did  not  now  trouble  her : 
she  only  wished  to  part  peacefully  from  a 
Past,  under  obligations  contracted  in  her 
soul  to  the  friendly  souls  there,  which  she 
wished  to  fulfil,  even  though  outwardly  sep- 
arating herself  from  them.  Her  soul  lay 
bound  by  obligations  to  the  women  yonder  : 
she  wanted  to  take  care  to  be  truly  com- 
prehended, even  though  she  was  outwardly 
cutting  herself  off  from  them. 

The  difference  of  faith  between  Eric  and 
herself  again  arose  before  her.  But  what 
course  remained  to  her  ?  To  become  un- 
true there  to  the  pioas  sisters,  or  here 
to  Eric  ;  but  no,  that  was  no  longer  possi- 
ble. She  hoped  that  the  great  soul  of  the 
Superior  would  give  her  calmness ;  and 
thus  she  lay,  sunk  in  a  half-slumber  during 
the  whole  trip. 

On  deck,  Fräulein  Perini  was  glad,  on 
the  whole,  that  Manna  had  remained  unseen  ; 
for  here  and  there  among  the  passengers 
Sonncnkamp  was  mentioned,  and  the  report 
was,  that  the  Prince's  negro  had  lifted  him 
up  with  both  hands,  and  had  carried  him, 
struggling,  down  the  staircase,  until  he  was 
set  at  liberty  by  the  servants,  who  brought 
him  to  the  carriage.  An  agent,  whom  Fräu- 
lein Perini  knew,  was  already  wondering 
who  would  buy  the  Villa,  for  it  was  absolute- 
ly certain  that  the  man  would  not  remain 
there. 

In  the  forward  cabin,  where  Lootz  had  en- 
sconced himself,  he  was  obliged  to  hear  the 
fruiterers  who  were  carrying  to  the  Lower 
Rhine  the  fruit  which  they  had  brought 
from  Sonnenkamp's  head-gardener,  saying 
one  to  another,  that  they  would  not  be  will- 
ing to  take  a  mouthful  of  fruit  cultivated 
by  this  man.  They  granted  him  the  merit, 
however,  of  having  done  much  toward  the 


introduction  of  a  species  of  apples  which 
grew  easily  and  bore  well. 

At  the  last  stopping-place  but  one  before 
the  Island  Cloister,  two  black-robed  nuns 
came  on  board.  Fräulein  Perini,  who  knew 
one  of  them,  went  down  with  them  into  the 
cabin  where  Manna  was  sleeping.  Both 
nuns  placed  themselves  opposite  to  her,  took 
out  their  prayer-books,  and  prayed  for  the 
poor  soul  lying  there  in  the  sleep  of  sorrow. 

Manna  opened  her  eyes  and  gazed  around 
in  astonishment.  She  knew  not  where  she 
was.  One  of  the  nuns  —  it  was  the  shy  one, 
who  always  kept  in  the  background  —  wel- 
comed her  in  the  French  language,  and 
bade  her  comfortingly,  resign  herself  to  all 
that  she  must  endure. 

Manna  sat  up.  So,  then,  the  news  had 
already  reached  even  their  ears  !  She  went 
on  deck  with  Roland  and  the  three  ladies. 
The  Island  cloister  came  into  view.  Every 
thing  was  so  clear  and  bright,  that  she 
felt  as  though  she  had  now  suddenly  returned 
to  earth.  There  was  every  thing,  just  as  it 
used  to  be,  seeming  to  look  at  her  with  the 
question,  "  Where  hast  thou  been  this  long 
time  ?  " 

They  got  into  the  boat,  and  were  rowed 
toward  the  island.  Every  tree,  every  bench, 
every  shrub,  greeted  her  like  a  long-van- 
ished Past.  She  cast  a  melancholy  glance 
at  the  beautiful  round  seat  on  the  landing- 
place,  where  she  had  so  often  sat  with 
Heimchen.  Now  wet  leaves  lay  upon  the 
bench. 

They  reached  the  convent. 

Manna  sent  her  name  at  once  to  the 
Superior,  but  received  the  answer  that  she 
must  first  remain  an  hour  in  the  church, 
and  then  come  to  her. 

Manna  understood  what  this  meant ;  but 
did  the  Superior,  then,  already  know  of  her 
defection  ?  She  went  towards  the  church, 
but  remained  standing  at  the  door,  without 
entering.  She  feared  the  picture  within, 
knowing  that  she  could  not  do  otherwise 
than  raise  her  eyes  towards  it,  and  yet  that 
must  not  be.  She  turned  round  again,  and 
went  out  towards  the  park.  She  heard  the 
children  in  the  house  playing  together ;  she 
heard  singing  in  another  class ;  she  knew 
how  all  were  sitting ;  she  knew  every 
bench  ;  approaching  the  fir-tree  where  she 
had  so  often  sat,  she  saw  that  the  seat  was 
no  longer  there.  On  the  kneeling-stool  where 
Heimchen  used  to  sit,  lay  Avithered  leaves. 
"  To  Heimchen,"  said  a  voice  within  her. 
Turning  back,  it  seemed  to  her,  in  passing 
the  convent,  as  though  she  were  guilty  of 
rebellion  and  sin  in  not  having  obeyed  the 
Superior's  command.    She  came  into  the 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


461 


churchyard.  On  Heimchen's  grave  stood 
a  cross  with  this  inscription  in  golden 
letters :  — 

"  The  child  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth."  — 
Mark  v.  39. 

"  How  ?  "  cried  Manna.  "  Why  these 
words  here  ?  They  are  spoken  in  Scripture 
of  that  child  who  was  re-awakened  on  its 
death-bed,  but  not  of  a  buried  one." 

She  sank  down  upon  the  grave,  and  her 
thoughts  grew  confused  :  she  lost  all  con- 
sciousness of  the  passage  of  time.  At  last, 
composing  herself,  she  turned  back  toward 
the  convent.  Admitted  into  the  reception- 
room,  she  was  still  obliged  to  wait  alone  ; 
the  pictures  on  the  wall  seeming  to  with- 
draw into  the  distance  if  she  looked  up  at 
them. 

At  last  came  the  Superior.  Manna, 
hastening  toward  her,  would  have  thrown 
herself  upon  her  neck  ;  but  she  stood  rigid, 
winding  both  ends  of  her  hempen  girdle 
around  the  forefingers  of  her  right  and  left 
hand,  so  that  the  rope  cut  into  the  flesh. 

Manna  sank  down  at  her  feet. 

"Rise,"  said  the  Superior  severely.  "We 
suffer  no  vehemence  here.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
you  yet  remember  this.  Have  you  been  in 
the  church  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Manna,  rising. 

It  Was  long  ere  the  Superior  spoke.  She 
probably  expected  Manna  to  acknowledge 
her  transgression  ;  but  Manna  could  not 
utter  a  sound.  Every  thing  that  ?4ie  had 
experienced,  and  that  was  now  within  her, 
seemed  to  crowd  upon  her  at  once. 

"  I  came  hither,"  she  began  at  last,  "  in 
order  to  leave  no  sorrow  in  your  heart, 
Reverend  mother,  at  my  ingratitude.  Your 
treatment  of  me  has  been  most  noble  :  you 
have  "  — 

"  No  praise.  Nothing  about  me.  Speak 
of  yourself." 

"  My  memory  must  not  be  a  grief  to  you. 
I  came  to  beseech  you  "  — 

'•  Why  do  you  hesitate  so  long  ?  Speak 
out !    What  do  you  wish  ?  " 

"  Nothing  save  your  faith  in  the  honora- 
ble struggle  through  which  I  have  passed. 
I  could  not  do  otherwise.  I  am  betrothed 
to  Eric  Dournay." 

"  How,  to  whom  ?  Did  I  rightly  under- 
stand you  ?  Is  Herr  von  Pranken  dead  ? 
You  are  —    But  no.    Speak  !  " 

Faithfully  and  openly  did  Manna  ac- 
quaint her  with  all  that  had  happened, 
standing  erect,  and  speaking  in  a  firm  voice. 
When  she  had  ended,  the  Superior  said,  — 

"  So  you  have  not  come  to  do  penance  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  For  what,  then  ?  " 


Manna,  grasping  her  brow,  said,  — 

"  Have  I  then  not  clearly  confessed  that 
I  do  not  feel  myself  culpable  ?  I  came  in 
order  to  offer  you  thanks,  heartfelt  thanks," 
for  the  good  which  you  did  me  in  time  of 
need,  and  my  memory  must  not  be  a  sorrow 
to  you.  You  yourself  once  told  me  that 
the  battle  which  I  must  fight  with  life  would 
be  a  hard  one.  I  have  not  sustained  it, 
or  rather  —  only,  I  implore  you,  be  not 
wounded.  Grant  me  a  peaceful  resting- 
place  in  your  memory." 

"  Do  you  wish  that,  even  now  ?  Yes, 
that  is  the  way  with  the  children  of  this 
world.  Even  the  suicides  demand  a  conse- 
crated grave.  You  are  dead,  and  can  have 
no  grave  in  our  holy  ground.  You  stretch 
out  your  hand  for  reconciliation,  but  of 
what  sort  ?    Your  hand  is  not  clasped." 

A  lay  sister  entered,  bearing  a  request 
from  Fräulein  Perini  to  be  admitted  into 
the  presence  of  the  Superior  and  Manna. 

She  entered. 

"  Have  you  any  thing  to  say  ? "  asked 
the  Superior,  turning  towards  Fräulein 
Perini. 

"  Yes.  Here  stands  Fräulein  Manna. 
I  remind  her  before  you,  worthy  mother,  of 
a  sacred  promise  which  Fräulein  Manna 
obtained  from  me." 

"  A  promise  ?    From  you  ? 

"  Yes.  You,  Fräulein  Manna,  extorted 
from  me  a  promise  to  hold  you  fast  with 
all  manner  of  punishments  and  of  bonds, 
if  the  spirit  of  apostasy  should  ever  gain  a 
foothold  in  your  soul.  Did  you  not, 
Manna?" 

« I  did." 

"  And  now  ?  "  asked  the  Superior. 

"  Now  I  belong  to  myself  no  longer.  I 
no  longer  call  any  thing  my  own :  no  pos- 
session, not  even  myself.  I  cannot  give  in 
expiation  what  is  not  mine."  • 

The  three  women  stood  long  in  silence. 
Finally  the  Superior  said, — 

"  Have  you  confessed  to  the  Priest  ?  " 

"No." 

The  Superior  had  turned  away,  and  spoke 
with  averted  face  :  — 

"  We  force  you  not.  We  bind  you  not. 
We  could  ;  but  we  do  not  wish  to.  Go,  go ! 
I  will  see  your  face  no  more  !  Go  !  Alas, 
what  a  hell  you  bear  within  you  !  The 
trace  of  your  footsteps  here  shall  disappear. 
No,  I  will  hear  nothing  more.  Go !  Has 
she  gone  ?  Do  not  answer  me.  Dear  Perini, 
tell  me  —  is  she  gone  ?  " 

"  She  is  going,"  replied  Fräulein  Perini. 

"  Where  is  my  sister  ? "  they  suddenly 
heard  Roland's  loud  voice  saying. 

The   door  was  thrown  violently  open. 


462 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


Roland,  quickly  perceiving  what  had  been 
going  on,  cried,  — 

"  You  have  humiliated  yourself  suffi- 
ciently :  come  with  me."  He  seized  Manna 
by  the  hand,  and  left  the  convent  with  her. 

When  they  were  in  the  open  air,  Roland 
said  he  had  been  unable  to  endure  the  sus- 
pense any  longer.  He  had  feared  lest 
Manna  would  allow  herself  to  be  maltreated, 
enduring  unkindness  as  a  penance. 

"  And  that  you  must  not  do,  even  if  you 
could  bear  it  yourself,  for  Eric's  sake.  You 
must  not  allow  Eric's  betrothed  to  be  in- 
sulted and  abused." 

How  Manna's  eyes  shone  as  she  gazed 
into  Roland's  glowing  countenance  ! 

"  It  is  over,"  she  said.  "  A  whole  world 
is  swallowed  up  behind  me.  It  is  well  that 
it  is  over." 

Fräulein  Perini  remained  some  time 
longer  with  the  Superior,  then  followed 
Manna.  Sitting  beside  her  in  the  boat,  she 
said  in  a  peculiar  low  whisper,  — 

"  I  was  obliged  to  say  that.  I  could  not 
do  otherwise." 

Manna  held  out  her  hand,  saying,  — 

"  You  only  did  your  duty.  I  am  not 
angry  with  you.    Forgive  me." 

Manna  knew  not  how  she  had  left  the 
convent.  Only  when  she  embraced  Roland 
did' her  tears  begin  to  fall.  On  their  home- 
ward journey  she  did  not  go  below,  but  sat 
on  the  deck  beside  Roland,  looking  at  the 
landscape  with  her  great  black  eyes  wide 
open. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

TRANQUILLITY    ON    THE    ROAD,  AND  UN- 
REST AT  HOME. 

On  his  way  to  Mattenheim,  Eric  met 
the  Major.'  He  felt  cheerful  enough  to  tell 
him  that  he  was  scouring  the  country  as  if 
enlisting  a  corps  of  firemen ;  and,  when 
he  explained  the  meaning  of  his  words,  the 
Major  needed  no  urging  to  agree  to  his  part. 
He  looked  on  the  affair  in  the  light  of  a 
court  of  honor,  from  which  no  one  should 
shrink. 

"  Poor  man  !  Poor  man  !  "  he  repeated, 
over  and  over  again,  "  He  was  not  open 
with  me ;  but  then,  neither  was  she.  I  do 
not  take  it  ill  of  him.  She  was  not  so  either : 
it  was  the  first  time  in  her  life.  She  "  — 
this  was  of  course,  Fräulein  Milch  —  "  knew 
that  I  could  not  endure  it.  I  can  do  much, 
comrade  :  you  would  not  believe  how  much 
I  can  do.  But  there  is  one  thing  of  which  I 
am  incapable  ;  and  that  is  hypocrisy.  Ican- 
not  have  friendly  intercourse  with  a  man 


whom  I  neither  love  nor  esteem.  I  knew 
that  the  man  had  been  a  slaveholder ;  and 
I  have  always  said  that  no  one  who  asso- 
ciates with  poodles  can  keep  off  the  fleas  : 
and  who  would  believe  that  the  man  could 
utter  so  many  kindly  words?  And  with 
you,  comrade,  he  talked  like  a  sage,  like  a 
saint.  I,  with  my  dull  brains,  cannot  make 
out,  and  even  Herr  Weidmann  could  not 
help  me,  why  the  good  children  must  suffer 
all  this.  But  now  I  will  explain  it  to  you. 
Now  I  know  the  reason.  It  came  into  my 
head  on  the  road.  This  is  how  it  is.  I 
have  not  learned  much.  I  used  to  be  a 
drummer  :  I'll  tell  you  my  story  some  time." 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  have  you  discovered  ?  " 

"  J ust  so  she  always  reminds  me  when  I 
wander  off  from  what  I  was  saying.  This 
is  it.  You  see,  man,  as  it  says  in  Scripture, 
is  born  in  pain,  trouble  ;  and  the  human  soul 
is  also  born  in  pain,  want,  and  misery.  We 
poor  fellows  know  that ;  and  that  is  why 
rich  and  distinguished  people  are  not  fair- 
ly in  the  world.  I  mean  —  you  know  — 
and  now  our  Roland  is  born  anew,  into  true 
nobility,  for  the  first  time.  The  Prince  can 
ennoble  the  name,  but  not  the  soul,  you 
understand  ;  so  it  is.  And  our  Roland  is 
now  the  real  nobleman.  To  endure  evil 
and  do  good,  that  is  the  motto  which  he 
has  now  received  ;  and  that  is  a  device  which 
has  yet  been  engraved  upon  no  knightly 
shield  :  but  you  see  it  stands  written  within, 
and  there  it  will  remain." 

The  Major  pointed  to  his  heart  with  a 
trembling  hand.  Eric  listened  in  astonish- 
ment, as  this  timid  man,  so  »low  of  speech, 
uttered  all  this,  with  many  interruptions,  it  is 
true,  but  with  great  fervor;  and  now  the 
Major  reminded  him  how  they  had  torment- 
ed themselves  with  the  problem  of  what 
Roland  should  do  with  so  much  money, 
and  said  that  it  was  now  decided,  once  for 
all,  he  must  do  nothing  but  good  with  it. 

When,  at  last,  Eric  was  about  to  separate 
from  the  Major,  the  latter  held  him  fast  once 
again,  saying,  — 

"  Listen  only  to  this  one  thing  more.  I 
was  a  drummer  :  I'll  tell  you  the  story  some 
day.  I  became  an  officer ;  and  my  comrades 
did  not  dream  how  they  honored  me,  when 
they  used  secretly,  thinking  I  did  not  hear 
it,  to  call  me  Capt.  Drumsticks,  or,  for 
shortness,  even  Sticks.  Yes  :  they  did  honor 
to  the  Capt.  Sticks ;  tor,  from  that  time 
forward,  it  became  clear  to  me.  I  was  un- 
able to  explain  it  so  to  myself,  but  she  made 
me  understand  :  she  knows  every'  thing. 
Yes  :  so  it  is.  He  is  only  half  alive  whom 
Fortune  has  made  into  something.  Misfor- 
tune is  the  Holy  Spirit,  saying  to  man- 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


kind,  'Arise  and  walk.'  You  understand 
me?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Eric  earnestly,  pressing  the 
old  man's  valiant  hand  and  riding  on. 

Looking  back,  he  saw  the  veteran  still 
standing  on  the  same  spot.  He  nodded  to 
the  horseman,  as  though  he  would  have  said 
to  him,  in  the  distance,  Yes  :  to  you  I  have 
given  good  baggage,  —  my  best.  You  will 
not  lose  it ;  and  now,  if  I  die,  it  is  in  the 
possession  of  one  who  will  keep  it,  and  not 
give  it  away.  He  thanked  the  Builder  of 
all  the  worlds,  that  he  had  caused  him  to  pass 
through  so  much  that  was  hard,  and  yet  al- 
ways to  come  out  of  it  unharmed. 

Meanwhile,  Eric  was  riding  cheerfully 
towards  Mattenheim.  On  the  way,  however, 
he  turned  round.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
was  bound  in  honor  to  summon  Clodvvig 
first.  That  in  forming  this  resolution  he  was 
also  influenced  by  an  impulse  of  curiosity  as 
to  how  Bella  was  now  behaving,  he  frankly 
acknowledged  to  himself:  nevertheless,  he 
rode  first  to  Wolfsgarten. 

The  parrot  shrieked  from  the  open  window, 
as  though  wishing  to  inform  all  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  arrival  of  so  unusual  a  guest ;  for 
it  was  long  since  Eric  had  been  there.  He 
thought  he  had  discerned  the  form  of  Bella 
in  the  room  adjoining  that  at  whose  open 
window  the  parrot  hung ;  but  she  did  not 
show  herself  again. 

Entering  Clodwig's  room,  he  found  him, 
for  the  first  time,  in  a  state  of  despondency. 
He  must  also  have  had  some  bodily  ailment ; 
since  he  did  not  rise,  as  had  always  been 
his  wont,  greeting  his  young  friend  with  as 
much  formality  as  heartiness. 

"  I  knew  that  you  would  come  to  me," 
said  Clodwig,  breathing  hard,  but  speaking 
in  a  mild  voice. 

"  If  one  spirit  can  influence  another  at  a 
distance,  you  and  your  mother  must  have  felt 
most  clearly  that  I  was  with  you  at  this 
time.  And  now,  if  you  please,  let  us  talk 
very  quietly,  as  I  am  somewhat  indisposed. 
Let  us  forget,  first  of  all,  that  we  are  starved 
by  intercourse  with  that  man.  I  think  we 
ought,  in  this  case,  to  think  of  him,  and  not 
of  ourselves.  See,"  —  taking  up  a  phial,  — 
"  look  at  this.  I  take  a  childish  delight  in 
this  new  chemical  stuff,  which  looks  exactly 
like  clear  water,  and  yet  serves  to  efface  a 
written  word  without  scratching  the  paper  at 
at  all ;  and  now  I  am  thinking,  ought  Ave 
not  to  be  able  to  find  some  moral  agency 
similar  to  this  ?  " 

Eric,  seeing  the  matter  which  he  had  in 
hand  immediately  referred  to,  laid  the  plan 
of  the  jury  before  Clodwig,  and  called  upon 
him  to  bear  his  part  in  it.    Clodwig  de- 


4G3 

clined,  with  the  remark  that  Herr  Sonnen- 
kamp, or  whatever  his  name  was,  must  have 
a  court  of  his  peers,  —  men  of  similar  rank, 
or,  rather,  of  a  similar  profession  with  him- 
self. He,  for  his  part,  was  no  peer  of  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  or  whatever  he  called  himself. 

Eric  reminded  his  friend,  with  great  cau- 
tion, of  his  having  dwelt  on  the  equality  of 
privileges  at  Heilingthal ;  but  Clodwig  seem- 
ed to  give  no  heed  to  these  words. 

There  must  have  been  a  great  weight  on 
the  soul  of  this  man,  usually  so  attentive ; 
for,  without  noticing  Eric's  reminder,  he  re- 
lated how  much  he  had  exerted  himself  in 
these  latter  days  for  the  American,  some 
hot  heads  at  court  having  wished  to  summon 
him  before  a  tribunal  on  a  charge  of  high 
treason.  This  idea  had  been  very  repulsive 
to  the  Prince,  who  had  written  Clodwig  a 
etter  with  his  own  hand,  thanking  him 
for  lhaving  given  his  counsel  against  any 
elevation  to  the  ranks  of  the  nobility. 
Clodwig  had  thereupon  advised  the  Prince 
to  desist  from  any  further  proceedings 
against  the  man,  who,  he  said,  had  been  al- 
lured and  seduced  into  things  with  which  he 
should  have  nothing  to  do. 

Again  Eric  expressed  his  wish  that  Clod- 
wig would  assist  at  the  trial. 

He  merely  replied,  — 

"  I  will  inform  the  Court  that  the  man 
summons  a  tribunal  of  his  own  accord.  It 
will  have  a  good  effect  there;  and  to  ob- 
lige you  " —  here  he  sat  upright,  and  his 
expression  of  languor  changed  to  one  of 
resolution.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his 
whole  face,  as  though  feeling  that  he  must 
wipe  away  its  look  of  distress  —  "  yes,  on 
your  account,  in  the  belief  that  your  connec- 
tion with  that  house  may  be,  by  this  means, 
severed,  or  that  light  may  be  thrown  upon 
it,  I  do  not  shrink  from  the  appeal." 

It  was  hard  to  Eric  that  this  consent 
should  be  given  for  his  sake,  and  not  with 
a  view  to  serving  the  cause.  He  was  on 
the  point  of  announcing  his  intention  of  be- 
coming the  man's  son,  when  approaching 
footsteps  were  heard.  Clodwig  rose  hastily, 
and,  seizing  Eric's  hand,  said,  in  a  low  but 
decided  voice,  — 

"  Well,  I  yield.  The  man  wishes  a  court 
of  honor  :  he  shall  have  one." 

Clodwig  had  uttered  these  words  quickly 
and  precipitately,  for  at  that  moment  Bella 
entered. 

She  greeted  Eric  with  Latin  words ;  and  it 
was  with  a  strange  confusion  of  sensations 
that  he  perceived  in  her  a  sudden  defiance, 
utterly  out  of  keeping  with  the  present 
state  of  things,  and,  above  all,  with  Clod- 
wig's  dejected  mood. 


4G4 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


"  Pray  tell  me,"  she  asked.  "  did  you  ever 
pass  through  a  phase  in  which  you  admired 
men  of  force,  like  Ezzelin  von  Romano  ? 
There  is,  after  all,  something  great  in  such 
violent  natures,  especially  when  contrasted 
with  men  of  petty  interests  and  weak  dil- 
ettanteism  "  — 

Eric  could  not  understand  what  this 
meant.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  Bella, 
screened  by  the  presence  of  a  stranger,  was 
discharging  arrows,  none  of  which  missed 
their  mark. 

Clodwig  gently  closed  his  eyes,  nodded, 
and  then  opened  them  again. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  continued,  more  calmly, 
"  I  am  glad  that  I  remember  a  question 
which  I  wished  to  put  to  you.  Tell  me, 
what  would  Cicero  or  Socrates  have  said,  on 
reading  Lord  Byron's  '  Cain  '  ?  " 

Eric  looked  at  her  with  a  puzzled  air. 
This  question  was  so  extravagantly  odd, 
that  he  did  not  know  whether  it  was  in- 
tended as  a  sneer,  or  whether  she  was 
insane.    Bella,  however,  went  on  :  — 

"  Has  Roland  ever  yet  read  Byron's 
1  Cain  '  ?  " 

"  I  believe  not." 

"  Give  him  the  book  now.  It  must  have 
an  effect  upon  him.  He,  too,  is  a  son,  who 
has  a  right  to  revolt  at  his  father's  banish- 
ment from  Eden.  It  is  wonderful,  the  cor- 
respondence between  the  two  stories,  —  is  it 
not  ?  Do  you  know  that  Ave  are  all,  strictly 
speaking,  children  of  Cain  ?  Abel  was 
childless  ;  yes,  the  pious  Abel  had  no  chil- 
dren :  we  are  all  descended  from  Cain.  A 
grand  pedigree  !  One  more  question,  dear 
Herr  Doctor.  Have  you  never  got  out  of 
the  savants  the  form  and  color  of  the 
mark  branded  on  Cain's  brew  by  God  the 
Father  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  Eric  an- 
swered. 

"  Neither  do  I  understand  myself,"  laugh- 
ed Bella.    It  was  a  dismal  laugh. 

She  then  continued  :  — 

"  I  began  to  read  Cicero,  '  De  Summo 
Bono,'  with  the  help  of  a  translation,  of 
course ;  but  I  did  not  get  far,  and  took  up 
Byron's  '  Cain.'  instead  :  that  is  the  finest 
thing  the  modern  world  has  produced." 

Eric  still  knew  not  what  to  reply,  and 
only  gazed  into  the  faces  of  Bella  and  Clod- 
wig.  "  What  is  going  on  here  ?  "  he  said 
to  himself. 

Bella  began  again, — 

"  Were  not  the  female  slaves  who  served 
the  Roman  ladies  obliged  to  puff*  out  their 
cheeks,  when  a  noble  matron  wished  to 
strike  them  in  the  face  ?  A  propos,  how  is 
Fräulein  Sonnenkamp  ?  " 


"  She  has  gone  to  the  convent,"  replied 
Eric  with  downcast  eyes. 

It  oppressed  him  to  be  obliged  to  answer 
Bella's  questions  with  regard  to  Manna. 

"  That  seems  to  me  very  sensible,"  was 
the  rejoinder. 

"  Such  a  cloister  is  a  shelter  where  the 
sensitive  child  will  best  find  repose  until  the 
storm  is  past.  What  will  Roland  now  do  ? 
What  are  your  intentions,  and  those  of  your 
mother  ?" 

These  questions  were  put  in  a  manner  so 
superficial,  so  distant,  and  so  conventional, 
that  Eric  was  able  to  reply  with  a  certain 
degree  of  cheerfulness,  — 

"  In  the  interim,  we  have  recourse  to  the 
great  deed  which  is  so  universal." 

"  The  great  deed  ?  " 

"  Yes  :  in  the  mean  time,  we  are  doing 
nothing." 

In  the  midst  of  this  conversation,  Eric's 
thoughts  were  in  the  convent  with  Manna. 
There  she,  too,  was  now  confronting  people 
who  had  once  been  such  near  friends  to  her. 
How  did  they  now  appear  in  their  new 
character  of  enemies  and  antagonists  ? 
Surelythey  had  not  assumed  this  cold,  in- 
different tone.  He  felt  as  though  he  must 
stretch  out  his  hand  protectingly  over 
Manna,  who  was  now  bearing  crushing  re- 
proaches, and,  perhaps,  even  allowing  a 
penance  to  be  laid  upon  herself.  He 
grieved  that  he  had  let  her  travel  alone 
with  Roland  and  Fräulein  Perini.  He  felt 
that  he  ought  not  to  have  left  her. 

Such  was  his  absorbing  thought;  and  so 
he  absently  took  leave,  saying  that  he  must 
go  on  to  Weidmann's.  Again  he  rode 
through  the  wood  which  he  had  traversed 
on  Clodwig's  horse  the  first  time  that  he 
went  to  Villa  Eden.  How  utterly  different 
was  the  Villa  to-day  !  And  here  at  Wolfs- 
garten,  —  here  he  felt  that  there  was  some 
mystery  which  he  could  not  unravel.  How 
extremely  happy  had  Bella  and  Clodwig 
then  seemed  to  him  !  and  now,  what  were 
they  ?  Bella's  strange,  wandering  talk, 
jumbling  together  Cicero  and  Byron's 
'  Cain,'  showed  that  she  must  have  passed 
hours  in  dragging  herself  restlessly  through 
all  sorts  of  things.  Then  Clodwig  seemed 
oreTwhelmed  by  melancholy  from  which 
even  his  universal  kindness  could  only  tem- 
porarily rouse  him. 

Eric"  felt  that  he  must  forget  all  this, 
since  he  had  in  view  an  end  which  he  must 
pursue  for  others  and  himself,  —  more  than 
for  himself,  for  Manna.  Only  he  who  is 
personally  free  from  care  can  devote  him- 
self fully  and  freely  to  the  service  of 
others. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


465 


CHAPTER  V. 
ACQUIESCENCE  AND  RELUCTANCE. 

It  was  already  night  when  Eric  reached 
Mattenheim.  The  Weidmann  family  had 
entered  their  winter  residence,  as  they 
called  the  beautiful,  bright  rooms  on  the 
upper  story  of  their  house,  with  pictures  on 
the  walls,"  and  open  fires  burning  on  the 
tasteful  hearths. 

Frau  Weidmann  was  sitting  with  her 
daughter-in-law  behind  the  table  on  which 
stood  the  lamp,  while  her  son  was  reading 
aloud.    Herr  Weidmann  was  in  his  study. 

Eric  begged  leave  to  seek  him  there,  and 
found  him  among  the  alembics  and  retorts 
of  his  laboratory. 

"  I  cannot  shake  hands,"  cried  he  gayly  ; 
"  but,  first  of  all,  turn  your  mind  from  the 
weight  which  oppresses  you.  That  will  help 
matters.  You  see  you  find  me  in  a  cheer- 
ful mood.  We  are  trying  to  profit  by  a  new 
discovery.  We  have  found  that  a  new  sort 
of  printer's  ink  can  be  prepared  from  the 
skins  and  grounds  of  grapes.  The  matter 
promises  well,  and  our  friend  Knopf  is 
probably  already  writing  a  poem  on  this 
subject.  He  wishes,  that,  in  future,  all  lyr- 
ics, but  especially  drinking  songs,  should  be 
printed  only  with  ink  prepared  in  this  man- 
ner. Look,  here  is  the  new  stuff  boiling. 
But  you  had  better  wait  in  the  next  room, 
where  you  will  find  some  very  interesting 
newspapers.  Wait  a  little  while,  and  I  will 
be  with  you." 

Eric,  going  into  the  adjoining  apartment, 
found  the  table  strewn  with  American  news- 
papers, containing  accounts  of  violent  elec- 
tion struggles  between  the  Republicans  and 
the  Democrats.  The  latter  name  had  been 
assumed  by  those  who  wished  to  enforce 
State  rights  so  far  as  to  be  incompatible 
with  the  existing  Union  ;  their  true  and 
chief  object  being  the  preservation  of  slavery. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Republican  party 
was  united  in  the  name  and  spirit  of  Abra- 
ham Lincoln. 

"  In  these  days  in  which  we  live,"  thought 
Eric,  "  the  great  cause  is  being  decided  in 
the  Xew  World.  In  what  state  of  mind  is 
Sonnenkamp  awaiting  the  result  of  this 
struggle  ?  "  He  read  on  without  knowing 
what  he  read. 

Weidmann  came  in,  saying  that  he  had 
expected  Eric,  and  asked  how  Sonnenkamp's 
children  had  endured  the  publicity  of  this 
affair.  He  declared  his  readiness  to  serve, 
as  soon  as  Eric  had  explained  to  him  the 
plan  of  the  jury.  He  added,  that  he  could 
not  as  yet  foresee  any  permanent  result  that 


could  come  from  it,  but  that  at  least  a  clear- 
er insight  into  the  matter  would  be  obtained 
by  this  means,  and,  perhaps,  the  power  of 
putting  the  children  in  the  position  due  to 
them. 

Weidmann  was  the  first  person  out  of  the 
family,  with  the  exception  of  the  Major,  to 
whom  Eric  communicated  his  connection 
with  Manna.  He  was  not  in  the  least  sur- 
prised, having  looked  upon  this  relationship 
as  inevitable,  from  all  that  he  had  heard 
of  Manna,  in  connection  with  what  he 
knew  of  Eric.  He  even  added,  that  it  was 
on  Eric's  account  that  he  had  instantly  ac- 
quiesced in  the  plan  proposed,  knowing  how 
nearly  the  restoration  of  the  honor  of  the 
house,  in  such  measure  as  was  possible, 
must  concern  him,  and  feeling  that  it  was 
the  duty  of  his  friends  to  stand  by  him. 

"  Oh,  I  was  so  proud  of  my  integrity !  " 
lamented  Eric  ;  "  and  now  "  — 

"  You  may  remain  so,"  interrupted  Weid- 
mann ;  "  and  I  can  put  your  mind  at  ease  on 
one  point.  It  is  certain  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  wealth  of  this  man  at  Villa  Eden 
was  not  gained  through  the  slave-trade. 
That  I  know  from  my  nephew." 

"  Pray,  assure  our  Roland  of  that,  first  of 
all." 

"  I  will.  Send  him  to  me  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 

He  asked  how  it  happened  that  Herr  von 
Pranken  continued  to  consider  himself  as 
the  son  of  the  house,  clinging  to  this  connec- 
tion with  inexplicable  tenacity. 

Eric  could  only  say  that  he  and  Manna, 
in  order  not  to  cause  more  confusion  at  this 
juncture,  had  kept  their  affection  a  secret 
with  the  greatest  care. 

Weidmann  urged  that  it  should  be  made 
known  before  the  trial ;  and  Eric  gave  him 
his  word  that  it  should. 

His  friend  then  returned  at  once  to  the 
preparations  for  the  jury,  saying, — 

"  One  other  thing  will  be  hard  to  arrange. 
I  think  that  we  ought  to  include  the  negro 
Adams." 

Eric  doubted  whether  Sonnenkamp  would 
consent  to  this  ;  but  Weidmann  repeated 
that  the  blacks  had  precisely  the  same  right 
to  judge  the  whites,  as  the  latter  had  to  judge 
them.  Eric  promised  to  propose  this,  but 
begged  Weidmann,  meanwhile,  not  to  make 
his  participation  in  the  business  dependent 
on  this. 

While  they  were  sitting  cheerfully  at  the 
table,  came  a  new  guest,  the  Doctor.  He 
had  been  attending  a  patient  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  was  in  high  spirits,  having 
just  performed  a  successful  operation.  Soon 
turning  to  Eric,  he  said,  — 


466 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


BE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


"  There  you  have  an  example.  Oh,  if  we 
could  only  prescribe  a  sedative  that  would 
quiet  for  weeks  or  months  !  " 

He  told  them  about  the  man  whom  he  had 
just  lei't,  adding)  — 

"  See  how  much  the  fine  doings  of  nobility 
and  virtue  signify.  The  man  from  whose 
estate  I  came  is  an  illegitimate  Royal  son, 
and  his  children  are  already  allied  by  mar- 
riage with  the  clan  of  high  society.  So,  in 
twenty  years,  no  one  will  ask  whence  came 
the  wealth  of  our  Roland." 

When  he  had  heard  of  the  jury,  and  how 
his  assistance  was  taken  for  granted,  and  as 
a  fixed  fact,  he  cried,  — 

"  Yes  !  That  is  the  way  with  the  old  ty- 
rants !  They  love  a  mock  burial.  But  you 
won't  see  me  in  the  funeral-procession.  Do 
you  really  believe  that  he  will  submit  to 
your  decree  ?  His  only  object  is  to  com- 
promise other  men.  He  is  deceiving  you 
all ;  and  you,  dear  Dournay,  have  interfered 
enough  on  this  man's  behalf.  I  advise  you 
to  leave  matters  as  they  are.  You  are  try- 
ing to  help  a  negro,  no,  a  negro-dealer,  to 
wash  himself  white." 

The  Doctor,  as  he  proclaimed  his  opinion, 
gave  his  jolly  laugh,  which  no  one  could 
hear  without  laughing  too. 

"  The  fellow  would  be  quite  to  my  taste," 
he  went  on  ;  u  he  would  have  been  a  good, 
healthy  scoundrel  of  the  old  sort,  only  that 
rascals  nowadays,  alas  !  are  all  so  reflective, 
so  self-conscious.  They  are  not  satisfied  to 
act  as  one  of  Nature's  elementary  forces,  but 
they  are  constantly  making  outrageous  at- 
tempts at  logical  self-justification.  If  this 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  really  wished  to  change 
himself,  it  would  be  despicable  cowardice." 

"  Cowardice  ?  "  interrupted  Weidmann. 
"  He  who  has  not  a  good  conscience  can  ea- 
sily be  overthrown,  and  has  no  persevering 
fortitude.  He  can  be  bold,  he  can  be  fool- 
hardy ;  but  temerity  is  not  courage." 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  interrupted  the  Doctor. 
"  Have  I  not  already  told  you  that  I  have 
an  aversion  to  all  this  sentimental  fuss  on 
behalf  of  the  negroes  ?  I  have  a  natural 
repugnance  for  negroes.  I  don't  see  why  my 
reason  should  brand  such  an  innate  physio- 
logical antipathy  as  a  prejudice.  It  shows 
prejudice,  moreover,  to  say  that  all  prejudi- 
ces are  groundless.  I  could  wish  that  we 
had  more  of  such  inborn  dislikes,  and  that  we 
did  not  permit  so-called  civilization  to  rob 
us  of  those  which  we  have.  The  slave-trade 
is  not  a  fine  thing,  it  is  true.  If  I  had  been  a 
prince.  I  should,  after  all,  have  ennobled  the 
man.  I  should  have  said,  '  Good  friend,  take 
a  bath ;  but  then  be  merry,  and  the  Devil 
take  orthodoxy  ! '  The  thing  which  vexes  me 


most  is,  that  this  Professor  Curtius  has 
obliged  the  nobles  by  firing  off  his  article 
beforehand.  Could  he  not  have  waited  a 
day  longer  ?  Then  Sonnenkamp  would 
have  been  one  of  the  nobility,  and  they  would 
have  been  obliged  to  swallow  it  as  they 
could.  Would  not  that  have  been  much 
better  ?  " 

The  Doctor  seemed  determined  not  to  re- 
gard the  matter  in  a  serious  light.  When 
they  were  leaving,  however,  and  he  had  in- 
sisted on  Eric's  sitting  beside  him  in  the 
carriage,  and  tying  his  horse  on  behind,  he 
said,  — 

"  As  for  the  rest  of  it,  I  acquiesce,  and, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  on  account  of  your 
faith.  You  believe  that  the  past  can  be 
atoned  for  by  an  effort  of  the  will ;  and  do 
you  really  believe  this  man  will  repent  ? 
W ell,  your  faith  shall  remove  me,  the  moun- 
tain of  unbelief.    We  will  see." 

Eric  told  him  that  he  had  been  at  Wolfs- 
garten,  and  was  not  a  little  astonished  when 
the  Doctor  said  that  the  incongruity  and 
want  of  harmony  between  Clodwig  and 
Bella  had  reached  a  crisis. 

"  Bella,"  he  said,  "  seeks  a  narcotic.  She 
studies  Latin,  and,  while  smaller  natures 
intoxicate  themselves  with  brandy,  she 
strives  to  stun  herSelf  with  Lord  Byron's 
poetry.  I  ought  not  to  speak  of  Byron.  I 
was  once  too  much  inspired  by  him,  and 
now  go  to  the  other  extreme.  I  consider 
this  sort  of  writing  to  be  not  wine,  but  — 
But  then,  as  I  said,  I  am  a  heretic,  and, 
indeed,  a  renegade  heretic." 

Seeing  that  Eric  shrank  back,  he  add- 
ed, — 

"  You  are  horrified  by  my  heresy ;  but 
then,  it  is  only  my  individual  opinion." 

The  Doctor  was  going  on  to  abuse  Bella 
again  in  his  old  way.  Eric  said  involunta- 
rily, how  ste-ange  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
Doctor  should  be  so  imbittered  against  h«r, 
for  whom  he  had  once  shown  a  preference. 

"  Ah,  bravo  !  "  cried  the  Doctor  in  a  loud 
voice.  "  My  respects !  I  admire  that 
woman.  So,  then,  she  told  you  that  I  had 
once  paid  her  my  addresses  ?  Excellent ! 
A  stroke  of  genius !  I  admire  the  adroit- 
ness with  which  she  would  fain  have  de- 
prived my  opinion  of  all  weight  in  your 
eyes.  What  bunglers  we  men  are  !  Shall 
I  make  you  a  solemn  protestation  ?  No. 
Do  you  believe  me  capable  of  the  villany 
of  speaking  so  of  a  woman  whom  I  had 
loved,  even  for  a  minute,  or  liked  even  for  a 
second?  But  I  thank  you.  I  am  enriched 
by  a  goodly  addition  to  my  knowledge  of 
humanity.  I  thank  you.  My  conscience  is 
soothed,  for  I  have  not  judged  this  woman 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


467 


too  harshly.  Recall  this  day's  ride  to  my 
mind  at  some  future  time.  I  tell  you,  that 
woman  will  yet  earn  some  notoriety.  How 
—  what  ?  That  I  cannot  tell  you ;  but 
such  a  wealth  of  inventive  power  will  yet 
bring  something  to  pass." 

All  this  jarred  on  Eric's  mood.  Why 
must  it  come  at  such  a  time  ?  Was  there 
not  a  sufficient  weight  on  his  spirits  ?  He 
scarcely  heard  the  Doctor,  as  he  went  on  to 
relate  how  hard  a  struggle  Pranken  had 
had  with. his  noble  connections,  and  to  keep 
his  place  at  court,  owing  to  his  refusal  to 
renounce  Sonnenkamp. 

When  they  had  reached  the  valley,  Eric 
took  leave  of  the  Doctor,  unfastened  his 
horse,  and  rode  back  to  the  Villa. 

In  Sonnenkamp's  room  there  was  still  a 
light.  He  sent  for  Eric,  who  informed  him 
that  all  had  agreed  to  the  plan.  He  said 
not  a  word  about  Adams  being  proposed  as 
a  juryman. 

"  I  thank  you,  I  thank  you  heartily,"  said 
Sonnenkamp,  who  was  seated  in  his  arm- 
chair. His  voice  sounded  like  an  old 
man's.  ';  One  thing  more,"  he  said,  sitting 
upright.  "  Does  the  Countess  Bella  know 
of  this  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  ;  but  I  do  not  doubt  that 
the  Count  will  inform  her  of  it. 
"  Did  she  say  nothing  about  me  ?  " 
"  No." 

"  Nothing  at  all  ?  Did  she  speak  of  no 
member  of  this  household  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes.    Of  the  children." 

"  Indeed!  Of  the  children?  Well,  I 
thank  you.    Pleasant  dreams." 

Eric  went  to  his  chamber.  He  stood 
long  at  the  window,  gazing  out  upon  the 
landscape. 

The  reign  of  Nature  continues  through 
all  human  revolutions  ;  and  happy  is  he, 
who,  in  contemplation  of  this,  can  forget 
himself. 

It  was  a  dark  night.  A  black,  wide- 
spreading  cloud  hung  over  the  mountains. 
Then  a  bright  streak  of  light  appeared  on 
the  edge  of  the  ridge,  and  stood  between 
the  mountains  and  the  cloud,  which  grew 
lighter.  The  moon  rose,  the  black  cloud 
ingulfed  it,  and  now  the  light  shone  out  on 
both  sides,  above  and  below ;  but  the  dark 
mass  was  darker  than  before,  while  detached 
masses  of  a  leaden  color  floated  on  the  right 
and  left. 

Eric  closed  his  eyes,  and  lost  himself  in 
thought.  When  he  looked  up  again,  the* 
moon  was  standing  above  the  dark  cloud, 
and  the  landscape  was  bathed  in  its  light, 
which  quivered  on  the  stream.  And  again, 
after  a  time,  the  moon  was  hidden  by  an- 


other cloud.  Eric  looked  out  long  and  fix- 
edly, till  the  cloud  had  vanished.  The 
whole  sky  was  as  clear  and  bright  as  steel 
undimmed  by  a  breath ;  and  peacefully 
shone  the  mild  sphere  of  light,  high  in 
heaven. 

Nature,  fixed  on  firm  foundations,  works 
on  according  to  eternal  laws.  Must  it  not 
be  so  too  with  human  life  ? 

Eric  thought  of  Manna,  and  with  the 
thought  a  solt  light  was  spread  over  every 
thing,  like  the  radiance  now  diffused  from 
on  high. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  BROKEN-OFF  TWIG. 

While  Sonnenkamp  was  carrying  on  the 
arrangements  for  the  trial  by  jury,  Pranken 
returned  looking  ill ;  and,  on  Sonnenkamp's 
urging  him  to  tell  him  what  was  the  matter, 
he  drew  forth  the  letters  from  his  pocket. 

He  first  laid  before  him  the  one  in  which 
he  had  been  notified  by  the  marshal  of  the 
Prince's  household,  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him,  as  chamberlain  to  his  Highness,  to 
retain  any  connection  with  a  man  who  had 
not  only  forfeited  his  honor,  but  had  be- 
havöd  so  wrongly  towards  the  Prince,  that 
the  question  was  still  being  agitated  wheth- 
er he  should  not  be  openly  arraigned  on  a 
charge  of  high  treason.  * 

Sonnenkamp  trembled,  but  laughed  at 
the  same  time,  in  a  way  peculiar  to  himself. 
Let  me  see  the  letter  again,"  said  he. 

He  read  it ;  then,  giving  it  back  in  silence, 
asked  what  the  other  letter  contained. 

Pranken  said  it  was  yet  more  decided; 
and  handed  him  the  document  of  the  mili- 
tary court  of  honor,  calling  upon  him  to 
give  up  all  intercourse  with  Sonnenkamp. 

"  And  what  do  you  intend  to  do  ?  "  asked 
Sonnenkamp.    "  I  release  you." 

;'  I  shall  stand  by  you,"  replied  Pranken. 

Sonnenkamp  embraced  him.  There  was 
a  pause,  a  strange  silence  between  these 
two  men. 

"  I  defy  them  all,"  exclaimed  Pranken  ; 
"  but  here  is  another  letter.  It  is  for  you," 
giving  him  the  letter  of  the  Cabinetsrath. 

Sonnenkamp  read  it. 

The  document  was  drawn  up  in  very 
polite  terms,  and  contained  the  request 
that  he  would  travel  for  a  time,  until  an 
opportunity  should  offer  for  putting  down 
the  party  which  was  now  urging  his  indict- 
ment before  a  court  on  a  charge  of  treason. 

"  Do  you  know  the  purport  of  this  let- 
ter ?  "  he  asked. 


468 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


"  Certainly.  The  Herr  Cabinetsrath 
chose  to  give  it  to  me  unsealed." 

"  And  what  do  you  advise  ?  " 

"  I  second  his  request." 

A  convulsive  twitching  passed  over  Son- 
nenkamp's  face. 

"  Prudent,  very  prudent,"  ■  he  said  to 
himself.  "  You  wish  to  banish  me,  and 
retain  my  estate." 

A  horror  began  to  creep  over  him  as  he 
saw  a  vision  of  himself  seated  in  prison  ; 
but  he  drove  it  off. 

"  So  you  are  of  the  same  opinion  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But,  before  you  leave  for  any 
length  of  time,  allow  me  to  point  out  a 
means  by  which  you  may  earn  new  honors 
for  us  both." 

"  Is  there  such  a  means  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  already  told  you  that 
there  is  another  faction,  quiet  but  powerful, 
which  is  ours,  and  we,  or,  rather,  you,  have 
the  means  of  binding  it  to  you  yet  more 
closely." 

And  now  Pranken  told  how  he  had 
promised  to  be  present,  almost  immediately, 
at  a  council  held  by  the  nobles  of  this  ec- 
clesiastical province  (which  extended  be- 
yond the  limits  of  the  principality),  in  the 
archiepiseopal  palace.  The  proceedings  of 
this  convocation  were  to  be  strictly  confi- 
dential. Its  object  was  to  confer  on  the 
ways  and  means  of  rendering  the  Pope 
military  assistance. 

"  You  do  not  intend  entering  the  papal 
army  ?  "  asked  Sonnenkamp. 

"  I  would,  if  I  were  not  bound  by  the  ties 
of  duty,  of  honor,  of  love,  to  remain  here 
at  my  post." 

"  That  is  fine,  very  fine.  Excuse  my  in- 
terruption. And  why  do  you  impart  this  to 
me  ?  I  am  not  of  the  nobility,  and  have 
no  place  in  this  council." 

"  You  belong  to  them,  and  will  be  pres- 
ent." 

"  I  belong  to  them  ?   I  shall  be  present  ?  " 

"  I  will  be  brief.  You  will  give  a  sum 
sufficient  for  the  formation  of  a  regiment, 
and  I  can  assure  you,  I  have  security  for 
your  being  not  only  unmolested,  but 
crowned  with  honors." 

"  And,  having  given  the  money,  can  I  re- 
main here  in  honor?"  Sonnenkamp  said 
with  a  smile. 

"  It  would  be  better,  if  you  were  absent 
for  a  time." 

A  look  of  exultation  passed  over  the  face 
of  the  questioner.    This  was  better  still,  he 
thought.    They  wished  to  deprive  him  at 
once  of  a  portion  of  his  property,  and  to  get  j 
rid  of  him,  into  the  bargain.    He  looked  at  I 


Pranken  with  an  expression  of  great  friend- 
liness, and  said, — 

"  Excellent !  Does  the  priest  of  this 
parish  know  of  this  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  won  over  the  Dean  of  the 
cathedral,  though  ?  " 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  send  for  the 
Priest  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  will  bring  him  myself." 

"  No  !    Remain  here." 

He  gave  through  the  speaking-tube  an 
order  that  the  Priest  should  be  requested  to 
come  to  him ;  then,  turning  again  to  Prank- 
en,  said,  — 

"  And  so  you  second  the  request  ?  Most 
excellent !  They  sell  blacks,  buying  whites 
instead,  and  the  whites  become  snow-white. 
They  even  become  saints." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Very  likely.  I  am  only  pleased  at  the 
excellent  arrangement  of  this  world.  My 
young  friend,  I  believe  that  the  thing  called 
virtue  is  taught  by  means  of  a  system  in 
the  Universities :  they  have  a  system  of 
morality.  We,  my  young  friend,  will  work 
out  a  system  of  criminality.  We  will  es- 
tablish a  chair  in  the  University.  Thou- 
sands of  auditors  will  come  flocking  around 
us,  whom  we  alone  can  instruct  in  the  Truth, 
the  real  Truth.  The  world  is  magnificent ! 
It  must  nominate  me  for  the  professorship 
of  worldly  wisdom,  which  is  a  science  dif- 
fering widely  from  the  idea  hitherto  enter- 
tained of  it.  It  is  time  that  this  moral 
rouge  should  be  rubbed  off*.  I  know,  thus 
far,  but  one  human  being  whom  I  shall  ad- 
mit as  my  colleague  into  this  faculty,  and 
that  one,  alas !  is  a  woman  ;  but  we  must 
overcome  this  prejudice  also.  Magnifi- 
cent !  " 

"  You  have  not  yet  told  me  whether  you 
accede  to  the  plan  "  — 

"  Have  I  not  ?  My  young  friend,  you 
cannot  yet  become  a  professor.  You  are 
still  a  school-boy,  learning  the  elements,  the 
rudiments.  I  would  fain  found  a  new 
Rome,  and,  as  once  the  Rome  of  Antiquity 
was  peopled  with  a  community  of  mere 
vagabonds,  so  I  would  fill  my  city  from  the 
houses  of  correction.  No  nation  can  equal 
their  inhabitants.  They  are  the  really  vig- 
orous men." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Sonnenkamp  at 
last  in  a  gentle  tone.  "  We  will  be  very 
upright  and  discreet,  very  moral  and  deli- 
cate. My  young  friend,  I  have  something 
very  different  in  view.  The  mouse-trap  of 
your  cathedral  dean  is  too  clumsy  for  me. 
I  shall  not  snap  at  this  bait  cooked  in  lard." 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


469 


Pranken  was  full  of  wrath.  Sonnen- 
kamp's  manner  of  treating  him  like  a  boy- 
still  in  his  school-jacket  roused  his  indigna- 
tion. 

He  stood  up  very  straight,  and  looked 
down  at  himself  from  head  to  foot,  to  see 
whether  he  were  indeed  a  little  boy.  At 
last  he  said,  throwing  back  his  head,  — 

"  Respected  father,  I  beg  you  to  desist 
from  this  pleasantry." 

"  Pleasantry  ?  "  ' 

"Yes.  I  have  united  myself  to  you  — 
you  cannot  deny  it  —  with  a  loyalty  that  — 
I  have  wished  to  make  you  my  equal  in  — 
no,  I  did  not  mean  to  say  that  at  such  a 
time  —  only  I  must  beseech  you  not  to 
withhold  your  concurrence  from  this  pro- 
ject. We  have  obligations.  We  have 
great  obligations ;  and  I  demand  that  you 
should  "  — 

"  Why  do  you  hesitate  ?  Obey  !  Pray 
say  the  word.  Yes,  my  noble  young  friend, 
I  will  obey  you.  It  is  fine,  very  fine.  What 
uniform  have  you  chosen?  Shall  we  raise  a 
regiment  of  cavalry  or  of  infantry  ?  Of 
course,  we  will  make  Roland  an  officer  at 
once.  Better  say  cavalry :  he  sits  well 
on  horseback.  Look  here,  revered  fanatic, 
I,  too,  have  my  fancy.  We  will  ride  over 
the  Campagna.  Ha!  That  is  jolly  !  And 
we  will  have  the  best  arms  of  the  newest 
sort.  I  understand  a  little  of  that  sort 
of  thing.  I  have  shipped  many  to  Amer- 
ica,—  more  than  any  of  you  know.  What 
do  you  think  of  my  raising  the  whole  regi- 
ment in  America  ?  " 
•  "  That  would  be  so  much  the  better." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Sonnenkamp. 
"  A  morning  dream  !  They  are  said  to  be 
the  sweetest.  Haven't  you  slept  almost 
enough  ?  Haven't  you  dreamed  out  your 
dream  ?  " 

Pranken  felt  as  though  chains  were  being 
wound  around  and  around  him.  His  sen- 
sations were  those  of  a  man  confined  in  a 
lion's  cave.  He  must  be  gentle,  yielding, 
conciliatory.  He  dares  not  rouse  the  lion. 
He  must  allow  the  brute  to  play  with  him, 
expecting  every  instant  to  be  torn  to  pieces 
by  his  claws.  Oh  for  some  means  of 
escape ! 

Pranken  put  his  hand  to  his  head.  What 
manner  of  man  was  this?  What  did  he 
-want  of  him  ? 

Sonnenkamp  said,  with  his  hand  on  the 
young  man's  shoulder,  — 

"I  have  nothing  against  your  piety  or 
your  pious  acts.  It  is  to  me  a  matter  of 
indifference ;  but,  my  young  friend,  none  of 
my  money  shall  be  thrown  to  those  cowled 
fellows.     Fine  economy,   that!  Manna 


I  builds  a  convent ;  you  raise  a  regiment. 
And  is  it  for  this  that  I  have  undergone  so 
much  ?  No,  you  were  only  joking ;  were 
you  not?  And  now  let  us  say  no  more 
about  it.  Be  shrewd,  and  deceive  those  who 
think  themselves  the  most  so.  You  will 
find  that  the  daintiest  morsel.  Ah  !  There 
is  Manna  coming  into  the  court !  We  will 
call  her  here  instantly. 

He  called  through  the  speaking-tube  that 
Manna  was  to  come  to  him  at  once. 

Before  Pranken  had  time  to  say  any  thing, 
the  door  was  opened  without  a  knock,  and 
Manna  entered. 

"  You  sent  for  me,  father  ?  " 

"  Yes.  How  did  you  get  on  at  the  con- 
vent ?  " 

"  I  have  taken  leave  of  it  forever." 

"  Thank  you,  my  child,  thank  you.  You 
do  me  good,  and  you  know  Iioav  much  I 
need  it  now.  So  now  let  me  arrange  every 
thing  on  the  spot.  You  look  so  fresh,  so 
animated  !  I  have  never  seen  you  so  much 
so.  Herr  von  Pranken,"  turning  to  him, 
"  you  see  how  Manna  has  freed  herself,  and 
I  have  your  promise  to  give  up  the  matter 
of  which  we  have  been  speaking;  have  I 
not  ?  " 

Pranken  made  no  answer. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  here,  Herr 
von  Pranken,"  began  Manna,"  but  now, 
now  it  is  best  that  it  is  so." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Sonnenkamp  decided- 
ly. "  You  can  have  nöthing  to  say  to  me 
which  our  faithful  friend  may  not  hear.  Sit 
down." 

He  took,  according  to  his  wont,  a  little 
peg  of  wood,  and  began  to  whittle. 

Manna  did  not  sit  down  :  with  her  hand 
on  the  back  of  a  chair,  she  said,  — 

"  Herr  von  Pranken,  I  wish  to  prove  to 
you  my  gratitude  for  your  faithful"  — 

"  That  you  will,  that  you  can,"  inter- 
rupted her  father,  looking  up  from  his  peg. 
"  It  is  well.  I  need  joy,  I  need  rest,  I  need 
serenity.  You  are  right.  A  cordial  would 
now  be  doubly  refreshing.  Give  our  friend 
your  hand  now." 

"  I  give  it  in  farewell." 

"  In  farewell  ?  "  cried  Sonnenkamp,  mak- 
ing a  deep  cut  in  the  peg.  He  went  up  to 
Manna,  and  caught  her  hand. 

"  Pray,  father,"  she  interrupted.  "  Herr 
von  Pranken,  you  are  a  nobleman  whom  I 
honor  and  esteem.  You  have  proved  your- 
self loyal  to  my  father  :  as  his  child,  I  shall 
value  you,  and  remember  you  with  grati- 
tude ;  but " — 

"  But  what  ?  "  demanded  Sonnenkamp. 

"  I  owe  it  to  you  to  speak  the  truth.  I 
cannot  become  your  wife.    I  love  Herr 


470 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


Dournay,  and  he  loves  me.  We  are  one ; 
and  no  power  of  earth  or  heaven  can  part  ns." 

"  You  and  the  teacher,  that  Huguenot,  that 
word-huckster,  that  hypocrite  V  I  will  stran- 
gle him  with  my  own  hands,  the  thief" — 

"  Father,"  returned  Manna,  drawing  her- 
self up  to  her  full  height,  while  the  heroic 
courage  which  shone  from  her  eyes  made  her 
appear  taller  and  stronger  than  she  was  in 
realit  y,  —  "  father,  Herr  Dournay  is  a  teach- 
er and  a  Huguenot.  It  is  only  your  anger 
that  speaks  the  rest." 

M  My  anger  shall  speak  no  more.  You 
do  not  know  me  yet.  I  stake  my  life  on 
this  " — 

"  That  you  wdll  not  do,  father.  We  chil- 
dren have  enough  to  bear  already." 

A  cry,  horrible  as  that  of  some  monster, 
burst  from  Sonnenkamp's  breast. 

Turning  to  Pranken,  he  cried,  — 

"  Leave  us  !  Herr  von  Pranken.  Leave 
me  alone  with  her  !  " 

**  No,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  will  not  leave 
you  alone  with  your  daughter.  I  have  loved 
her.    I  have  a  right  to  protect  her." 

Sonnenkamp  supported  himself  by  grasp- 
ing the  table.  A  vertigo  seemed  to  seize 
him,  and  he  cried,  — 

"  Do  you  hear,  Manna  ?  Do  you  hear  ? 
And  will  you  reject  such  a  nobleman  ? 
Revoke  your  decision,  my  child  ;  I  will  im- 
plore you  on  my  knees.  See,  how  pervert- 
ed your  mind  is !  I  have  enough  to  bear 
already.  Do  not  heap  this  upon  me,  too. 
Look  at  this  man  !  can  you  refuse  such  a 
one  ?  Manna,  you  are  a  sensible,  good 
child.  You  have  only  been  playing  with 
us ;  you  have  only  wished  to  test  us.  See, 
you  are  smiling.  I  thank  you,  I  thank  you 
for  this  trial.  By  means  of  it,  you  have 
obtained  a  fresh  proof  of  his  nobleness. 
Manna,  there  he  stands.  Take  him  in 
your  arms.  I  will  gladly  die ;  I  will  do 
whatever  the  world  demands :  only  fulfil 
this  one  request." 

"  I  cannot,  father,  I  cannot." 

"  You  can,  and  you  will." 

"  Believe  me,  lather  "  — 

"  Believe  you  ?  —  you,  who  but  lately 
declared  with  such  firmness,  '  I  will  become 
a  nun  ! '  The  infirm  of  purpose  cannot  be 
trusted." 

"  Father,  it  pains  me  unspeakably  to 
be  obliged  to  wound  you  and  Herr  von 
Pranken  thus." 

"  Well  —  it  is  well :  I  must  bear  this  too. 
You  can  cut  my  heart  out ;  for,  alas  !  I  have 
a  heart.  Fie  I  And  is  it  for  this  that  I 
have  defied  the  world,  old  and  new  ?  is  it 
for  this  that  I  am  thrust  out  of  both,  —  to  call 
a  hypocritical  rascal  my  son  ?    Oh  these 


philosophers !  these  idealists !  these  hu- 
manitarian fanatics  !  He  smuggles  himself 
into  my  house  as  a  tutor,  in  order  to  marry 
millions.  Oh,  most  practical  philosophers, 
and  rascally  liars  and  hypocrites,  into  the 
bargain  1    I  will  not  bear  it !  " 

He  bent  his  fingers  like  claws,  and  moved 
his  hands  rapidly,  crying,  — 

"  Give  me  something  to  tear  in  pieces,  or 
I  do  not  know  what  I  shall  do.    You  "  — 

Pranken  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
The  three  stood  facing  each  other  in  silence. 
All  breathed  hard,  but  Pranken  the  hardest. 

Manna  endured  her  father's  gaze  calmly ; 
but  she  had  no  foreboding  of  its  real  mean- 
ing. He  again  called  through  the  speaking- 
tube,  — 

"  Let  Herr  Dournay  come  here." 
Then  he  went  on. 

"  Manna,  I  do  not  force  you  ;  but  I  desire 
you  to  renounce  this  teacher.  Yet  more. 
Did  you  not  tell  me  that  you  had  sent  word 
to  the  priest  to  come  hither  ?  " 

"  Certainly  :  you  ordered  that  he  should 
be  summoned." 

"  I  hear  him  in  the  ante-room.  Admit 
him." 

The  Priest  entered,  and  Sonnenkamp 
addressed  him  thus  :  — 

"  Sir  priest,  I  announce  to  you,  before 
these  witnesses,  my  resolution  to  give  my 
Villa  for  the  foundation  of  a  convent,  pro- 
vided my  daughter  Manna,  here,  takes  the 
veil,  as  she  has  always  wished  to  do." 

Manna  could  not  comprehend  this.  She ' 
could  not  suspect  the  cruel  game  which  her 
father  was  playing  with  her,  with  Pranken, 
with  Eric,  with  the  Villa,  with  every  thing. 
She  knew  not  how  to  help  herself,  when, 
just  as  the  Priest,  turning  toward  her,  offered 
his  hand,  Eric  entered.  He  saw  at  once 
what  had  happened. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  "  were  the 
words  with  which  Sonnenkamp  turned  upon 
him. 

Eric  bowed. 

"  And  do  you  know  who  this  man  here  is, 
and  this  girl  ?  And  when  you  look  into  that 
mirror,  do  you  know  whose   image  you 

see  ?  * 

Then,  pointing  to  the  wall  where  the 
hunting-whip  hung,  he  cried,  — 

"  And  do  you  know  what  that  is  yon- 
der ?  The  back  of  many  a  slave  "  —  He 
broke  off  suddenly. 

Eric  looked  proudly  around  him,  then 
said  in  a  calm  voice,  — 

"  To  be  whipped  by  men  of  a  certain  sort 
is  no  dishonor." 

Sonnenkamp  gave  a  hollow  groan,  and 
Eric  went  on  :  — 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


471 


"I  beseech  thee,  Manna,  to  leave  the 
room." 

a  Thee  !  —  Manna  !  —  "  yelled  Sonnen- 
kamp,  and  would  have  sprung  upon  him, 
had  not  Pranken  caught  his  arm,  saying,  — 

u  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  if  any  one  here  is 
to  demand  satisfaction  from  Herr  Dournay, 
I  have  the  first  right." 

"  Very  good !  "  cried  Sonnenkamp,  throw- 
ing himself  into  a  chair.  "Yours  is  the 
revenge,  yours  the  honor,  yours  the  life,  and 
yours  every  thing  else.  Speak  yourself : 
I've  nothing  more  to  say." 

"  Herr  Dournay,"  began  Pranken,  "  I 
brought  you  into  this  family,  and  I  told  you 
in  so  many  words  what  relation  I  held  to 
the  daughter.  Up  to  this  time,  I  have  had 
a  degree  of  respect  for  you ;  and  I  regret  to 
be  compelled  to  withdraw  it." 

Eric  jumped  up. 

"  I  shall  not  challenge  you  to  fight," 
Pranken  continued.  "  You  have  put  on  a 
coat  of  mail  that  makes  you  invulnerable  to 
me.  Your  life  rests  -under  Fräulein  Man- 
na's protection,  and  so  your  life  is  invio- 
lable, as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  This  is  my 
last  word  to  you  so  long  as  my  tongue  can 
speak.  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  I  have  one  re- 
quest only  to  make  of  you.  Give  me  your 
hand,  promise  to  grant  it  to  me." 

"  I  promise  you  every  thing  but  the  regi- 
ment, every  thing  else  but  that." 

"  Very  well :  I  have  your  word  that  you 
will  not  harm  this  man." 

He  felt  about  with  trembling  hands,  and 
then  taking  out  of  his  pocket  a  little  book, 
he  handed  it  to  Manna.  His  voice  was 
filled  with  emotion,  as  he  said,  — 

"  Fräulein  Manna,  you  once  gave  this  to 
me  :  the  twig  is  still  lying  in  it,  and  it  is 
bare.  Take  it  again.  As  this  twig,  broken 
ofF  from  the  tree,  can  never  grow  to  it 
again  :  so  am  I  detached  from  you  and  from 
every  one  here." 

He  looked  Manna  full  in  the  face,  and 
then  closed  by  saying,  — 

u  Xow  we  are  parted  forever." 

He  drew  on  his  gloves  quietly,  buttoned 
them,  took  up  his  hat,  bowed,  and  left  the 
room. 

Manna  looked  after  him  with  a  humble 
glance,  and  then  seized  Eric's  hand.  The 
two  stood  before  Sonnenkamp,  who  had 
covered  his  face  with  his  hand,  and  who 
now  said,  — 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  my  blessing  ?  To 
be  horse-whipped  by  a  man  like  me  is  no 
disgrace;  and  such  a  män  as  I  am  can  give 
no  blessing.  Go,  go  !  or  have  I  no  longer 
any  right  to  command,  that  you  remain  so 
motionless  ?  " 


"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,"  Eric  began,  "  I 
might  say,  and  it  would  be  to  some  extent 
true,  that  I  intended  those  severe  words  for 
Heir  von  Pranken,  and  not  for  you  ;  but, 
as  they  were  also  applicable  to  you,  I  ask 
your  pardon.  I  was  not  master  of  myself, 
and  it  was  wrong  in  me  to  provoke  and 
grieve  you  so  sorely;  not  merely  because 
you  are  Manna's  father,  but  because  you 
are  a  man  who  has  had  to  endure  so  much. 
It  was  sinful  in  me  "  — 

"  Very  well,  very  well ;  I  know  all  about 
sermonizing ;  it's  sufficient.  And  has  not 
your  whole  life  been  a  lie  ?  Have  you  not 
been  a  thief  ?  Did  I  not  ask  you  if  you 
had  any  such  views  when  I  was  con- 
ducting you  over  the  house?  And  could 
you  so  long  play  the  hypocrite  and  retail 
your  fine  speeches  ?  Curse  upon  all  faith 
in  mankind  !  I  had  faith  in  you,  I  believed 
you  incapable  of  a  breach  of  trust ;  and 
you've  been  a  hypocrite  from  that  first  hour 
I  went  with  you  over  the  house  until  the 
present  moment.  As  to  the  future  —  I've 
torn  away  the  mask." 

"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,"  replied  Eric,  "  I 
have  wrestled  long  and  desperately  with 
myself,  before  yielding  to  this  love ;  but  it 
is  stronger  than  I  am,  stronger  than  every- 
thing besides.  That  I  am  not  seeking  for 
your  wealth,  I  prove  by  declaring  to  you 
that  I  shall  take  none  of  your  possessions. 
I  can  add  no  farther  assurance ;  for  if  you 
do  not  believe  my  simple  word,  how  are 
you  to  believe  an  oath  ?  " 

"  Indeed  ?  Then  you  expect  still  to  be 
believed  ?  Yes,  fine,  noble,  good,  magnani- 
mous man,  I  possess  a  great  deal,  but  not 
what  you  ask,  — faith  in  you.  I  had  this 
faith  once,  it  was  my  last  illusion.  I  don't 
swear  it ;  but  I  know  that  it's  my  lasl  illu- 
sion." 

"  I  entreat  Roland's  father  and  Manna's 
father  "  —  Eric's  voice  trembled,  —  "I  en- 
treat him,  as  a  child,  to  be  just  towards  me. 
You  will  yot  learn  that  I  spoke  the  truth  at 
that  time,  and  speak  it  now." 

"  Truth  ?  Whew ,  truth  !  Leave  me,  I 
wish  to  be  alone  :  I  must  be  alone." 

Eric  and  Manna  left  the  room,  holding 
each  other  by  the  hand.  They  waited  out- 
side for  a  long  time.  Joseph,  who  had  been 
summoned,  now  entered  Sonnenkamp's  room. 
"When  he  came  out,  he  told  Manna  that 
Herr  Sonnenkamp  had  sent  to  the  city  for 
a  notary. 

Eric  and  Manna  went  into  the  garden. 
And  this  is  the  power  of  love :  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  direful  pain  and  sufferingr 
they  were  inwardly  cheerful  as  if  all  misery 
had  been  removed  far  away  from  them." 


472 


THE   COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


"  You  must  take  it  from  me,"  said  Man- 
na, after  they  had  walked  together  for  a 
long  time  in  silence.  "  I  don't  know  what 
it  signifies  ;  but  it  will  not  leave  me.  At 
that  time;  when  the  Prince  visited  us,  his 
kind  message  to  you  affected  me  as  if  he 
had  bestowed  a  benefit  upon  myself.  Do 
you  remember  ?  I  delivered  the  message  to 
you.  At  that  time  he  said  you  were  to  re- 
member that  you  had  1been  the  companion 
of  his  boyhood,  and  that  he  would  like  to 
prove  to  you  that  he  was  not  forgetful  of 
the  fact.  Now,  don't  you  believe  that  you 
could  do  something  for  us  ?  I  don't  know 
what;  but  I  think  —  well,  I  don't  know 
what  I  do  think." 

"  It's  the  same  with  me,"  replied  Eric.  I 
remember  it  as  if  it  were  the  present  mo- 
ment ;  but  I  have  no  idea  how  to  begin  to 
avail  myself  of  this  gracious  favor.  O 
Manna !  that  was  the  first  time  it  broke 
upon  me  how  you  felt  towards  me." 

And  the  lovers  lost  all  idea  of  their  anx- 
ieties in  recalling  the  past,  how  they  wanted 
to  avoid  each  other,  and  could  not.  All 
present  sorrow  vanished  away. 

On  Manna's  face  there  was  a  light  as  of 
an  inextinguishable  gleam  of  sunshine:  her 
large  dark  eyes  glowed,  for  a  free  and  strong 
soul  shone  through  them. 

"  What  are  you  smiling  at  now  ?  "  she 
suddenly  asked  Eric. 

"  Because  an  image  has  occurred  to  me." 

"  An  image  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I've  heard  that  a  precious  stone 
is  distinguished  from  an  imitation  of  one,  by 
the  fact  that  the  dimness  of  lustre  caused 
by  breathing  upon  it  immediately  disap- 
pears. You,  my  Manna,  you,  are  such  a 
genuine  pearl." 

Whilst  the  lovers  were  promenading  in 
the  garden,  Sonnenkamp  sat  alone,  almost 
congratulating  himself  that  he  had  some- 
thing new  to  trouble  him  ;  and  in  the  midst 
of  his  vexation  there  was  a  degree  of  pride, 
of  pleasure,  when  he  thought  how  coura- 
geously his -child  stood  up  there  before  him. 
She  was  his  daughter,  his  proud,  inflexible 
child.  And  his  thoughts  went  further  : 
Your  child  forsakes  you,  follows  her  own 
inclination,  and  your  duty  is  done :  your 
duty  was  to  the  daughter,  for  the  son  will 
build  up  an  independent  life.  Frau  Ceres 
—  poh  !  —  let  them  supply  her  with  dresses 
and  ornaments,  and  lull  her  to  sleep  with  a 
pretty  story.  He  went  into  the  garden,  into 
the  green-house,  where  the  black  mould  was 
lying  in  a  heap.  He  put  on  his  gray  sack, 
grubbed  in  the  dirt,  smelt  the  fresh  earth ; 
but  to-day  there  seemed  to  be  no  odor  to 
it.  He  rent  the  garment  in  pieces  as  he  took 
it  off. 


"  Away  forever  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Child- 
ish folly  !  It's  all  over  !  "  He  stood  for  a 
while  before  the  spot  where  Eric  had  taken 
breakfast  on  the  first  morning.  So  this  was 
the  man,  and  he  to  be  sole  master  here  for 
the  future  ?  He  to  possess  all  this,  —  a 
schoolmaster  ? 

The  Cooper  came  along  the  road.  Son- 
nenkanip  called  out  to  him,  and  commended 
his  bringing  up  the  fire-engine,  adding,  with 
a  zest,  that  the  settlers  in  the  far  West  found 
this  their  best  weapon  against  the  savages, 
spurting  hot  water  upon  them ;  and  it  was 
still  more  effective  to  put  in  a  trifle  of  sul- 
phuric acid,  and  blind  every  one  hit  in  the 
face.  The  cooper  stared,  with  eyes  and  mouth 
wide  open,  at  the  man  who  could  say  these 
horrible  things  in  such  a  free  and  easy  way. 

Sonnenkamp  left  him  standing  there,  and, 
going  into  the  orchard,  helped  very  care- 
fully and  tenderly  to  gather  the  fruit.  He 
thought  of  the  days  when  this  fruit  was 
growing,  of  the  spring  when  Roland  was 
convalescent,  of  the  visit  of  the  Prince,  the 
journey  to  the  springs,  the  days  of  sunshine 
until  now,  the  dewy  nights ;  and  he 
thought  silently,  when  will  there  be  another 
crop  of  fruit  ?  how  will  it  be  with  you  then  ? 
where  ?  perhaps  under  ground  ;  then  you 
cannot  turn  over  the  black  mould :  then  his 
head  swam. 

It  is  a  shame  that  we  must  die,  and  a 
double  shame  to  know  that  Ave  must. 

He  stared  fixedly  as  if  he  were  bewildered, 
for  it  came  over  him  that  on  this  very  spot 
he  had  said  something  like  this  to  Eric,  the 
first  morning  he  had  come  there.  Has  this 
place  a  peculiar  power  to  awaken  thoughts 
of  death  ?  Are  you  standing  over  the  spot 
of  earth  which  shall  be  your  grave  ? 

He  was  called  away  ;  for  the  notary  with 
his  two  assistants  had  arrived  just  at  the 
dinner  hour.  He  sat  down  with  him  at  the 
table,  and  appeared  in  as  good  spirits  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  The  notary  occu- 
pied Pranken's  usual  seat.  After  dinner, 
he  transacted  business  with  the  notary,  be- 
ing long  and  busily  engaged  in  writing. 
The  two  assistants  signed  as  witnesses:  so 
that  nobody  except  those  under  oath  knew 
any  thing  of  the  contents  of  the  will. 

.After  this  was  done,  a  letter  came  from 
Bella.  She  wrote  to  Sonnenkamp  that  she 
and  Clodwig  would  come  to  the  jury-trial, 
and  he  must  bring  it  about  that  she  should 
be  among  the  twelve.  Sonnenkamp  smiled, 
for  he  had  almost  forgotten  about  it :  it  was 
all  very  well.  Erfc  requestd  Roland  and 
Manna  to  accompany  the  Mother,  who 
wanted  to  make  a  visit  at  Mattenheim. 
|  They  consented,  and  so  the  house  was  now 
l  perfectly  still,  almost  entirely  deserted. 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


473 


CHAPTER  VII. 
PRELIMINARIES. 

The  days  passed  away  quiet  and  dull. 
Sonnenkamp  sent  off  many  letters,  and 
read  the  newspapers,  without  sending  them 
to  Frau  Ceres,  as  was  his  former  custom. 

The  men  came  who  had  declared  them- 
selves ready  to  constitute  the  jury. 

Sonnenkamp  sent  word  to  them  that  he 
would  see  no  one  until  the  time  came  for 
appearing  before  the  tribunal.  But  an 
exception  was  made  in  regard  to  one  person. 
Lootz  was  made  the  confidential  agent,  and 
Bella  came  to  Sonnenkamp's  room,  through 
the  climbing  mistaria  and  the  seed-room. 

"  Just  a  few  words,"  Sonnenkamp  said. 
"  You  could  not  form  one  of  the  jury  ;  but 
I  assure  you,  because  such  a  being  lives 
with  me  on  the  earth,  I  will  live,  and  will 
yet  show  what  constitutes  a  man.  Here,  in 
this  room,  will  I  speak." 

He  escorted  her  back  through  the  seed- 
room  :  she  knew  that  the  door  would  be 
left  open. 

Bella  went  restlessly  about  the  Villa,  and 
she  saw  Lina  who  had  come  with  her  father, 
and  who  wanted  to  keep  Manna  company 
at  this  terrible  time  ;  but  Lina  was  at  a  loss 
what  to  do  with  herself,  when  she  found  how 
the  family  was  scattered. 

She  entreated  Bella  to  go  with  her  to 
Aunt  Claudine,  who  was  the  only  one  left 
at  home. 

Bella  said  that  she  would  come  by  and 

Lina  went  to  Aunt  Claudine,  and  afforded 
her  some  real  consolation,  and  even  pleas- 
ure. 

"  Oh,"  asked  Lina,  "  are  Africans  and 
negroes  the  same  thing  ?  " 
"  Most  certainly." 

"  Well,  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I  dis- 
like Africans  and  negroes.  I've  nothing  to 
say  against  their  being  free,  why  shouldn't 
they  be  ?  But  they  might  have  become  so 
before  this  or  afterwards  :  why,  just  at  this 
very  time  ?  Why  must  they  deprive  me  of 
my  beautiful  season  of  betrothal  ?  No- 
body is  disposed  to  be  merry,  nobody  talks 
of  any  thing  else,  by  reason  of  these  ne- 
groes. It's  the  fashion  even  to  wear  chains 
now,  called  Chdines  d'csclaves,  —  Oh,  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  something  —  what  was 
if —  yes,  I  know  now.  Just  tell  me  what 
they're  going  to  do  when  the  negroes  get 
to  be  good  people  just  like  everybody  else, 
what  they're  going  to  do  then  with  the 
Devil  ?  " 

"  What  has  the  Devil  to  do  with  it  ?  " 


■ "  Why,  how  are  they  going  to  paint  the 
Devil,  if  he's  not  to  be  black  any  longer  ?  " 

Aunt  Claudine  had  to  indulge  in  a  most 
hearty  laugh,  and  she  was  very  much  re- 
joiced to  be  reminded  that,  in  the  midst  of 
this  montonously  sombre  life,  there  was  some 
liveliness  still  left  in  the  world. 

She  was  ready  to  go  with  Lina  to  the 
Castle,  but  just  as  they  were  leaving  the 
house,  Bella  came.  She  begged  that  Aunt 
Claudine  and  Lina  would  not  put  off  their 
excursion  on  her  account,  and  shut  herself 
up  in  the  library,  while  the  Aunt  and  Lina 
proceeded  to  the  castle.  They  remained 
there  until  the  afternoon,  and  often  looked 
down  to  the  Villa  where  "  the  men  were  all 
engaged  in  such  a  queer  business,"  as  Lina 
expressed  herself. 

Bella  did  not  stay  long  in  the  library,  but 
quickly  returned  to  the  villa,  and  noiselssly 
went  up  the  steps  overgrown  with  mistaria. 

Sonnenkamp  went  to  his  wife,  thinking 
that  he  must  inform  her  of  what  was  now 
going  on.  She  tauntingly  reminded  him  of 
his  promise  to  return  to  America  ;  she  did 
not  want  the  decision  to  be  in  the  hands  of 
strangers. 

Sonnenkamp's  practice  was  to  let  Frau 
Ceres  speak  just  as  long  and  as  much  as 
she  pleased  ;  for  it  was  a  matter  of  perfect 
indifference  to  him  what  she  said. 

When  he  had  got  through  with  this,  he 
returned  to  his  room,  and  sent  word  to 
those  who  arrived,  that  he  would  extend  a 
welcome  to  them  when  he  appeared  before 
the  tribunal. 

Weidmann  came  first  with  the  Prince 
Valerian  and  Knopf,  then  Clodwig  with  the 
Banker,  and  the  Doctor  with  the  Justice. 
Professor  Einsiedel  stopped  a  while  at  the 
dog-house,  and  talked  very  earnestly  with 
the  field-guard,  and  was  highly  delighted  at 
the  sound  views  of  the  man  in  dog-training. 
Once  he  tapped  upon  his  forehead  with  the 
fore  and  middle  fingers,  wishing  to  impress 
upon  his  memory  one  observation  of  Claus, 
which  explained  to  him  a  passage  in  the 
eighth  book  of  Pliny,  treating  of  land-ani- 
mals. 

The  Major  came  in  full  uniform,  wearing 
all  his  decorations ;  and  when  he  saw  that 
Clodwig  had  come  in  plain  citizen's  clothes, 
without  a  single  decoration,  he  said  to  him- 
self in  vexation,  — 

"  She  was  right  here,  too ;  but  I  thought 
as  it  was  a  tribunal  of  honor  —  well,  no 
matter ;  it's  no  harm,  anyhow." 

Eric  had  made  all  the  requisite  arrange- 
ments in  the  music-saloon ;  but.  by  Sonnen- 
kamp's order,  the  chairs,  the  side-board  set 
out  with  eatables  and  drinkables,  and  every 


474 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


thing  else  needful,  were  removed  to  Sonnen- 
kamp's  room.  He  placed  his  chair  with  a 
table  before  it  near  the  door  leading  into 
the  seed-room,  to  which  he  then  withdrew. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
THE    NEW  CAIN. 

After  the  men  had  assembled,  Eric 
knocked  at  the  door,  according  to  a  pre-con- 
certed arrangement ;  and,  as  it  opened,  Son- 
nenkamp came  forward.  A  bluish  pallor 
rested  on  his  countenance,  as  he  stepped  up 
to  the  little  table  where  two  sticks  for  whit- 
tling and  a  pocket-knife  were  placed.  Rest- 
ing one  hand  upon  the  table,  he  began,  — 

"  Gentlemen  of  honor  and  worth  !  " — here 
pausing  a  moment,  he  continued,  "  I  use 
the  words  worth  and  honor,  because  they 
are  not  always,  and,  in  fact,  are  very  sel- 
dom, united  together,  —  you  fulfil  a  human 
duty  in  coming  here  at  my  call,  and  bestow- 
ing upon  me  a  portion  of  your  life,  these 
hours,  your  feelings,  and  your  thoughts.  J 
acknowledge  this  favor.  On  the  Western 
prairies,  in  the  lonely  log-house,  in  order  to 
form  an  opinion  of  a  man  from  whom  wrong 
has  been  suffered,  and  in  order  to  pronounce 
a  verdict  thereupon,  and  to  execute  it,  we 
call  in  the  neighbors  living  on  the  solitary 
farms  for  miles  around ;  and  I  have  done 
this  now,  and  you  have  come  here  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  call.  You  are  to  pass  a  judg- 
ment, you  are  to  decide  upon  what  penalty 
shall  be  inflicted  in  reference  to  acts  that 
cannot  be  weighed  in  the  balances  of  legal 
statutes.  I  shall  lay  open  to  you,  without 
reserve,  my  past  life.  I  can  do  this  the 
more  easily,  as  you  know  already  the  worst 
in  my  case.  You  are  to  see  how  I  have 
grown  up  from  childhood,  and  then  to  de- 
cide and  to  judge.  I  have  never  felt  pity 
myself,  and  I  ask  no  pity  from  you :  I  ask 
for  justice." 

Sonnenkamp  had  begun  in  a  depressed 
tone,  and  with  downcast  eyes ;  but  he  soon 
grew  more  animated,  his  countenance  be- 
came more  intent,  and  his  eye  lighted  up. 

"  I  make  the  declaration,  therefore,  that 
I  accept  your  finding,  and  submit  myself 
to  whatever  expiation  you  may  determine 
upon.  I  have  only  one  request.  Let  each 
one  of  you,  within  a  week,  write  out  his 
opinion,  and  render  in  his  verdict ;  then  let 
the  paper  be  given  into  the  hands  of  Herr 
Captain  Doctor  Eric  Dournay,  who  will 
break  the  seal  in  the  presence  of  two  other 
persons. 

"  I  will  now  withdraw  a  moment,  in  or- 


der that  you  may  determine  whether  you 
will  undertake  the  service  under  this  condi- 
tion, and,  if  you  think  it  expedient,  may 
choose  a  foreman." 

He  bowed.  There  was  something  theat- 
rical and  yet  gravely  composed  in  his  man- 
ner of  speaking,  and  in  the  way  in  which 
he  now  withdrew  for  a  moment  into  the 
adjoining  apartment. 

The  assembled  gentlemen  looked  at  one 
another ;  but  no  one  spoke  :  all  eyes  were 
turned  upon  Clodwig,  from  whom  an  opin- 
ion was  first  expected. 

He  said  now  in  a  quiet  and  low  tone,  — 

"  Herr  Weidmann  will  be  so  good  as  to 
undertake  the  office  of  foreman.  We  need 
one  to  make,  in  the  first  place,  the  necessary 
preliminary  arrangements." 

Weidmann  at  once  accepted  the  position, 
and  announced  that  he  agreed  to  the  pro- 
posal for  a  written  verdict.  The  rest  were 
also  ready  ;  out  Professor  Einsiedel,  begin- 
ning timidly,  and  gaining  more  and  more 
confidence  as  he  proceeded,  said  that  this 
ought  not  to  exclude  consultation  together 
in  order  to  elucidate  and  confirm  the  indi- 
vidual opinion  :  otherwise,  all  the  effect  of 
a  common  tribunal  would  be  lost,  and  it 
would  be  superfluous  for  them  to  sit  there 
together. 

This  opinion  was  acceded  to,  and  Eric 
was  deputed  to  call  Sonnenkamp  again  into 
the  room. 

As  Eric  opened  the  door,  he  thought  he 
noticed  a  nestling  like  that  made  by  a  silk 
dress,  and  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  make  of 
it. 

He  found  Sonnenkamp  in  the  seed-room, 
hurriedly  smoking  a  cigar :  he  laid  it  down, 
and  went  back  to  the  audience-room. 

Weidmann  informed  Sonnenkamp  of  the 
conclusion  they  had-  come  to,  and  the  re- 
marks of  Professor  Einsiedel. 

Sonnenkamp  nodded  assent. 

"  Before  I  resume,"  he  said,  taking  one  of 
the  pieces  of  wood  with  a  smile,  "  I  must 
beg  indulgence  for  a  habit  which  I  am  sorry 
to  say  I  cannot  drop.  I  am  in  the  habit, 
when  I  am  alone,  busy  in  thought  —  and  I 
shall  address  you  as  if  I  were  alone  —  as  I 
remarked,  I  am  accustomed  either  to  smoke 
or  to  whittle,  oftentimes  both  together.  I 
can  compose  myself  better  if  my  accus- 
tomed practice  is  now  indulged  in." 

He  seated  himself,  took  one  of  the  bits  of 
wood,  and,  cutting  a  deep  notch  around  it, 
began,  — 

"  I  beg  that  any  one  of  you  will  interrupt 
me  with  questions  if  involuntarily  I  leave 
any  thing  obscure  or  unexplained.  Now 
then  :  I  am  the  only  son  of  the  richest  man 


THE   COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


475 


in  Warsaw.  If  I  tell  you  of  my  youth,  it 
is  not  because  I  wish  to  throw  the  respon- 
sibility of  my  acts  upon  circumstances  or 
upon  fate.  My  father  had  the  largest  busi- 
ness in  wood  and  grain.  When  I  was  six 
years  old,  he  removed  to  a  large  German 
town,  for  in  clearing  a  forest  my  older  brother 
had  been  killed  by  a  falling  tree.  My  mother 
died  soon  after,  and  lies  buried  with  him  in 
the  village  near  by.  I  was  often  told  that  I 
should  have  a  step-mother ;  but  it  was  not 
so.  My  father  —  I  speak  as  openly  of  him 
as  of  myself  —  was  one  of  the  most  popular 
of  men,  but  felt  no  affection  for  any  per- 
son or  thing  on  earth.  He  gave  both 
hands  to  every  one  who  approached  him, 
and  was  extremely  complaisant,  kind,  cor- 
dial, and  expressive  ;  but,  as  soon  as  a  man 
had  turned  his  back,  he  spoke  slightingly 
of  him.  He  was  a  hypocrite  #from  choice, 
even  where  there  was  no  necessity  of  being 
so.  He  was  so  even  towards  the  beggar. 
This,  however,  I  did  not  perceive  until  at  a 
later  period.  At  my  father's  table  there 
were  present  state  officials,  artists,  and 
learned  men :  they  liked  good  eating,  and, 
in  order  to  get  it,  were  obliged  to  set  off  our 
table  with  their  decorations  and  titles.  We 
gave  great  parties,  and  had  no  social  visit- 
ing. There  were  grand  banquets  in  the 
house,  and  there  sat  down  at  them  men 
decorated  with  stars,  and  women  with  bare 
shoulders :  at  the  dessert  I  was  brought  in, 
passed  from  lap  to  lap,  carressed  and  flat- 
tered, and  fed  with  ices  and  confectionery. 
I  was  dressed  handsomely,  and  in  some  old 
lumber-room  there  must  be  a  portrait,  —  I 
would  give  a  great  deal  to  come  across  it 
again,  —  painted  life-size,  and  with  crisped 
locks,  by  the  first  court-painter,  and  after- 
wards sold  with  the  rest  of  our  household 
stuff.  We  had  no  relatives.  I  had  a  private 
tutor ;  for  my  father  did  not  want  to  send 
me  to  a  public  school.  I  grew  up  the  idol 
of  my  father,  and  he  always  kissed  me 
warmly  when  I  was  carried  to  him  by  his 
order.  My  tutor  indulged  me  in  every 
thing,  and  taught  me  to  regard  myself  alone 
as  the  central  point  of  all,  and  never  to  pay 
any  regard  to  my  dear  fellow  human  beings. 
This  helped  wie  more,  than  he  could 
imagine.  The  capital  thing  is  to  blunt  the 
conscience,  as  it  is  termed  :  all  men  do  it,  but 
some  more  superficially  than  others.  The 
world  is  nothing  but  a  collection  of  egoisms 
hanging  loosely  together.  When  I  was  six- 
teen years  old,  I  had  already  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  usurers ;  for  I  was  the  heir  of  a 
million,  and  that  was  a  larger  sum  then 
than  seven  times  as  much  to-day.  My 
father's  solicitor  settled  with  them,  and,  as 


soon  as  that  was  done,  I  ran  up  new  bills, 
delighted  that  my  credit  was  so  good.  In 
short,  I  was  a  fast  youth,  and  I  continued  to 
be  so.  I  have  already  said,  I  believe,  that 
I  had  no  love,  no  respect  even,  for  my 
father,  who  was  —  the  truth  must  be  told  — 
one  of  the  most  exquisite  hypocrites  that 
ever  wore  the  white  cravat  of  respectability. 
My  father  was  a  very  honest  hypocrite. 
Others  dissemble,  and  whitewash  it  over 
with  a  coating  of  ideality,  persuading  them- 
selves that  there  is  something  real  and  ac- 
tual in  other  things  than  money  and  pleas- 
ure. My  father  was  also  a  philosopher, 
and  used  to  say,  My  son,  the  world  belongs 
to  him  who  has  strength  or  cunning  enough 
to  conquer  it;  and  whoever  takes  a  senti- 
mental view  has  the  pleasure  of  taking  it, 
and  nothing  more." 

Sonnenkamp  scraped  energetically  at  the 
bit  of  wood  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and 
for  a  moment  nothing  was  heard  but  the 
scratching  of  the  knife  rounding  off  the 
end. 

"  This  being  said,"  he  resumed,  "  I  can 
continue  with  calmness.  At  seventeen 
years  of  age,  I  was  a  spendthrift,  inducted 
into  all  kinds  of  respectable  iniquities.  I 
was  a  jolly  comrade,  a  good-for-nothing  fel- 
low; but  I  was  respectable,  rich,  and  there- 
fore very  popular;  for  nature  and  destiny 
had  been  terribly  lavish  in  securing  this 
result.  My  father  regularly  paid  my  gam- 
bling debts  and  other  debts  also.  He  went 
with  me  to  the  ballet,  and  often  handed  me 
his  more  powerful  opera  glass,  that  I  might 
get  a  better  view  of  the  sylph-like  Cortini, 
who  was  no  stranger  to  me,  as  he  very  well 
knew.  Yes,  we  were  a  jovial  set.  My 
father  gave*  me  only  one  counsel,  and  that 
was,  Don't  confine  yourself  to  one.  Every 
Sunday  I  must  dissemble,  and  say  I  was 
going  to  church ;  but  my  father  knew  well 
enough,  and  took  a  secret  satisfaction  in  the 
knowledge,  that  I  went  elsewhere.  Our 
carriage  stood  every  other  Sunday  at  the 
church  where  the  most  pious  and  celebrated 
preacher  held  forth ;  and  on  the  alternate 
Sunday  we  did  not  drive,  but  walked, 
for  then  our  coachmen  also  went,  and  our 
horses,  too,  had  a  Sunday.  Our  very  ser- 
vants must  appear  pious.  My  father  was 
Protestant,  and  I  was  Catholic  out  of 
regard  to  my  mother.  I  leave  it  for  others 
to  decide  in  which  confession  hypocrisy  is 
cultivated  the  more  successfully. 

"  Now  the  question  came  up  what  was  I 
to  do  ?  I  had  no  fancy  for  sitting  at  the 
accountant's  desk,  and  wanted  to  be  a  sol- 
dier ;  but  I  was  not  of  noble  rank,  and  was 
not  willing  to  be  received  at  the  Jockey 


476 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


Club  simply  on  sufferance.  I  dropped  off 
from  my  youthful  companions,  and  from 
that  time  played  the  gentleman.  I  went  to 
Paris.  I  enjoyed  a  superfluity  of  the  pleas- 
ures furnished  by  the  world.  Most  people 
plume  themselves  upon  their  virtue,  and  their 
virtue  is  nothing  more  than  a  feebleness  of 
constitution  ;  they  make  a  virtue  of  neces- 
sity. When  I  had  sowed  enough  wild  oats, 
my  father  sent  for  me.  I  lived  at  home, 
and  the  specimens  I  saw  before  me  of  what 
was  termed  virtue  were  nothing  but  coward- 
ice, and  fear  of  not  being  respected.  To 
be  virtuous  is  a  bore ;  to  appear  virtuous  is 
amusing  and  profitable  at  the  same  time. 
Every  thing  that  can  be  done  without  de- 
tection, is  allowable:  the  main  thing  is  to 
belong  to  society.  I  often  went  from  the 
most  brilliant  assemblies  into  the  wretched- 
est  dens ;  and  the  lowest  vice  seemed  to  me 
the  most  worthy  of  respect.  I  was  a  roue, 
and  remained  so.  We  were  proud  of  be- 
ing a  rollicking  and  reckless  crew.  It  had 
a  sort  of  poetic  tinge.  Let  one  be  a  poet 
like  Byron,  be  a  genius,  an  exception  to  the 
ordinary  crowd,  and  what  in  lower  condi- 
tions would  be  crime  is  then  regarded  as  a 
gallant  feat.  I  saw  that  the  whole  world 
was  vice  under  a  mask,  and  I  think  there  is 
no  vice ;  the  name  is  given,  poison  is  writ- 
ten on  the  phial,  so  that  the  bulk  of  man- 
kind may  not  drink  out  of  it.  I  was  made 
acquainted,  whether  accidentally  or  design- 
edly I  do  not  know,  with  a  beautiful  girl, 
fresh  as  a  rose.  It  was  time  that  I,  at  one 
and  twenty,  should  settle  down  as  a  married 
man.  All  congratulated  me  on  having  sowed 
my  wild  oats,  as  it  is  termed,  and  that  I 
was  now  to  become  a  respectable  husband 
and  the  head  of  a  family.  My  botrothed  was 
an  enthusiastic  child,  and  I  don't  un- 
derstand it  to  this  day,  how  she  could 
make  light  of  my  past  as  she  did,  probably 
under  the  direction  of  her  mother.  Why  I 
married  the  child  I  do  not  know.  As  I  was 
going  to  church,  and  returning  from  it,  as 
I  was  making  the  wedding  trip,  in  which 
every  thing  was  very  modest  and  proper,  it 
seemed  to  be  somebody  else,  and  not  myself, 
who  was  the  actor.  We  returned,  and  — 
but  1  will  spin  out  the  story  no  further  than 
to  say,  that  I  discovered  an  earlier  attach- 
ment of  the  sweet  child.  The  only  thing 
that  vexed  me  was  to  be  laughed  at.  I  left 
her,  and  while  the  arrangements  were  being 
made  for  a  separation,  she  died,  and  with 
her  an  unborn  life.  I  was  again  free,  free  ! 
That  means  that  I  was  in  Paris.  I  wanted 
to  enjoy  life :  to  drain  the  cup  to  the  very 
dregs.  Dissipation,  dissipation,  was  my 
sole  end  :  I  yearned  for  distracting  pleasure 


—  I  wanted  to  exhaust  life,  and  every  morn- 
ing it  was  new  born.  My  soul  was  a  void, 
a  void  everywhere.  I  despised  life,  and 
yet  did  not  fling  it  from  me.  What  has  life 
to  offer  ?  Reputation  or  riches  —  the  for- 
mer I  could  not  strive  after,  the  latter  was 
open  to  me.  My  father  wanted  to  hold  me 
within  a  narrow  range.  I  operated  on  the 
Exchange.  I  gained  considerable  sums,  and 
lost  them  again,  but  still  had  enough  left 
to  keep  afloat  by  means  of  gambling.  I 
was  at  Marseilles,  among  a  jolly  set,  when 
I  heard  of  my  father's  death.  The  largest 
part  of  my  inheritance  was  seized  upon  by 
my  creditors,  and,  because  I  wanted  to  have 
no  recollections  of  home,  I  wrote  to  the 
attorney  to  sell  off  every  thing.  A  mali- 
cious saying  went  the  rounds  after  his 
death.  We  had  had  no  idea  how  well  he  was 
known ;  now  it  was  said,  '  There  was  one 
good  thing  about  him,  and  that  is,  he  was 
better  than  his  son.' 

"  The  Germans  say  that  God  and  the 
Devil  are  wrestling  with  one  another  for 
the  dominion  of  the  world.  I  have  hith- 
erto only  heard  of  these  two  mighty  poten- 
cies, they  have  never  yet  presented  them- 
selves before  me  ;  but  I  was  convinced  that 
there  were  two  things  engaged  in  a  strong 
tussle,  and  these  were  Work  and  Ennui. 
Men  benumb  themselves  in  work,  in  pleas- 
ure, in  the  foolery  of  morality,  as  it  is 
termed.  All  is  vanity,,  the  wise  king  has 
said;  but  it  ought  to  be  said,  All  is  stale, 
tedious,  flat,  a  long-drawn  yawn,  that  ends 
only  in  the  death-rattle.  I  have  run  over 
the  whole  sandy  desert  of  ennui,  and  there 
is  no  remedy  there  but  opium,  hashish,  gam- 
bling, and  adventure.  I  took  lessons  of  a  jug- 
gler, and  acquired  great  skill,  for  which  I 
stood  in  high  repute  among  my  companions ; 
I  had  the  most  splendid  apparatus.  I  lived 
in  Italy  at  a  later  period,  out  of  pure  wan- 
tonness, as  a  juggler  by  profession.  I  was 
in  Paris  at  the  time  of  Louis  Philippe ; 
there's  nothing  merrier  than  these  frequent 
erneutes :  they  are  the  people's  games  of 
chance." 

Sonnenkamp  stopped,  and  now,  boring 
with  his  knife  very  delicately,  he  said,  — 

"  Do  you  look  at  me  in  astonishment,  be- 
cause I  impart  wisdom  ?  Well,  that  is  also 
insipid  like  every  thing  else  :  honor,  gold, 
music,  friendship,  glory,  all  is  emptiness. 
The  men.  of  virtue,  the  men  of  honor,  are 
all  like  those  augurs  who  could  not  look 
into  each  other's  faces  without  laughing  at 
the  idle  tale  which  they  impose  upon  the 
world.  Tfie  gods  of  to-day,  in  the  church 
as  well  as  in  the  world,  say,  Ave  know  that 
you  are  only  hypocrites  ;  but  that  you  must 


THE  COUNTRY-HOÜ 


SE    ON   THE  RHINE. 


477 


play  the  hypocrite  is  an  evidence  of  our 
authority.  And  the  so-called  delight  in 
•  nature,  in  mountain  and  valley,  in  water 
and  forest,  sunlight  and  moonlight  and 
starry  brightness  —  what  does  it  all  amount 
to  ?  a  mere  cheat,  a  curtain  to  hide  the 
grave  you  are  to  lie  in.  What  is  a  man 
to  do  in  the  world  ?  Do  you  know  that 
millions  have  lived  before  him,  and  have 
looked  at  the  stars  ?  Is  he  to  be  proud  of 
playing  the  same  old  tune  over  and  over 
again,  like  the  man  with  his  hurdy-gurdy, 
grinding  out  the  same  melody  to-day  and 
to-morrow  that  he  did  yesterday  ?  You  see 
I  had  learned  my  Byron  by  heart.  The 
misfortune  was,  that  I  was  neither  a  poet 
nor  a  highly  interesting  pirate.  I  was  dis- 
gusted with  the  world  and  with  myself.  I 
did  not  want  to  kill  myself.  I  wanted 
to  live,  and  to  despise  every  thing.  I  had 
madly,  as  if  in  mockery  of  myself,  lost 
every  thing  at  play  ;  and  now  came  the 
merriest  thing  of  all.  It  was  a  cold,  wet 
night;  but  it  suited  me  well,  as  I  went 
through  the  streets,  completely  plucked  as  I 
was.  Whew  !  How  lustily  the  wind  blew  ! 
it  was  cooling.  Here  was  I  traversing  the 
ant-hill  of  the  great  city  ;  my  money  I  had 
gambled  away,  and  my  love  had  been  un- 
faithful. A  nice,  prudent  little  fellow  there 
was,  who  proved  to  me  over  a  bottle  of 
canary,  that  I  possessed  a  capital  which  I 
didn't  understand  how  to  put  at  interest ; 
that  I  was  a  born  diplomatist.  I  knew  the 
decoy-duck  at  the  first  whistle.  I  was  to 
be  a  diplomatist,  and  so  I  sported  that 
character.  New  horses,  new  servants,  a 
new  love,  and  a  large  new  house,  were  now 
mine.  I  was  an  attache ;  in  good  German, 
I  was  a  spy.  I  cover  the  word  with  no 
nice  little  moral  cloak.  The  life  was  a 
merry  one.  This  time  the  discovery  had 
been  made :  now  dissembling  had  a  defi- 
nite end.  The  praise  which  the  ambassa- 
dor lavished  upon  me  I  deserved  more 
than  he  was  aware.  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  being  insured  against  the  insurance  com- 
pany ?  I  brought  the  ambassador  most 
important  information ;  but  I  had  an  after- 
appointment  with  the  minister  of  police, 
and  gave  him  secret  notice  of  the  ambassa- 
dor's machinations.  The  ambassador  gave 
me  false  information ;  but  we  could  extract 
from  this  what  his  real  intention  was." 

A  smile  passed  over  the  countenances 
of  the  hearers,  and  Sonnenkamp  contin- 
ued, — 

"  A  day  came  when  I  must  flee.  I  had 
the  choice  of  five  passports  with  five  differ- 
ent names  under  which  to  travel.  I  wanted, 
first  of  all,  concealment ;  and  one  is  best 


concealed  among  so  called  honest  people. 
I  came  to  Nice,  where  I  was  a  gardener. 
All  my  senses  were  paralyzed.  I  seemed 
to  myself  a  corpse,  and  as  if  I  with 
nry  thoughts  were  only  the  companion  of 
this  corpse.  Here  I  and  the  gardener  be- 
came one  again  ;•  the  odor  of  the  moist 
earth  was  the  first  thing  that,  for  a  long 
time,  had  given  me  any  pleasure,  no,  that 
made  me  feel  I  was  alive.  Chemistry  can 
imitate  every  thing ;  but  the  fragrance  that 
rises  out  of  the  fresh  earth  no  perfume  ever 
possessed.  Herr  Dournay  surprised  me  on 
the  first  hour  of  his  arrival,  just  as  I  was 
digging  in  the  fresh  mould.  It  gave  me 
strength.  The  masquerade  pleased  me; 
I  had  good  sleep,  a  good  appetite.  The 
gardener's  daughter  wanted  to  marry  me. 
I  had  again  a  reason  for  flight.  I  had  laid 
away  a  good  sum  of  money  ;  now  I  dug  it 
up.  I  began  a  new  life  of  pleasure  at  Na- 
ples. I  confess  I  was  proud  of  assuming 
all  sorts  of  transformations  :  I  was  entirely 
afloat,  in  good  health  and  good  spirits.  I 
had  a  good  circulation,  and  social  talent : 
the  world  was  mine.  I  had  friends  wher- 
ever I  went :  how  long  were  they  my 
friends  ?  Perhaps  only  so  long  as  I  stuck 
fast  to  my  money.  That  was  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  me.  I  desired  no  loyalty, 
for  I  gave  none.  I  was  always  thankful  to 
my  parents  for  one  thing  ;  they  had  given 
me  an  indestructible  constitution.  I  had 
a  body  of  steel,  a  heart  of  marble,  and  un- 
shakable nerves  ;  I  knew  no  sickness  and 
no  pity.  I  have  experienced  many  provo- 
cations to  pity  "  — 

He  paused.  It  was  the  only  time  during 
his  whole  speech  that  he  smiled ;  and  a 
peculiar  smack  of  satisfaction  proceeded 
from  him. 

Then  he  continued  :  — 

"  A  strange  trait  of  sentimentalism  stuck 
fast  to  me,  however.  It  was  at  Naples,  on 
a  wonderfully  beautiful  evening,  we  were 
sailing  in  a  miscellaneous  and  merry  party 
on  the  sea,  and  I  was  the  merriest  of  the 
whole.  We  disembarked.  Who  can  tell 
what  transpires  in  a  human  being  ?  At  this 
time,  there,  under  the  bright  Italian  sky,  in 
the  midst  of  laughing,  singing,  jesting  men 
and  women,  the  thought  darted  through  my 
mind  :  What  hast  thou  in  the  wide  world  ? 
Nothing.  Yet  there  is  one  thing :  yonder 
in  Poland  thy  mother's  grave.  And  out  of 
laughing,  wanton  Italy,  I  travelled  without 
halt  through  the  different  countries,  saw 
nothing,  journeying  on  and  on  towards 
dreary,  dirty  Poland.  I  came  to  the  village 
that  I  had  not  seen  since  my  sixteenth  year. 
And  such  is  man  —  no,  such  am  I !    I  did 


478 


THE  C0UNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


not  Avant  to  undergo  the  pain  of  seeing  my 
mother's  grave.  I  looked  over  the  burial- 
ground  hedge  ;  but  I  did  not  go  inside,  and 
travelled  baek  again  without  having  seen 
the  grave.  Such  am  I,  so  good  or  so  bad; 
I  believe  they  are  one  and  the  same  thing. 
I  travelled  through  Greece  and  Egypt,  and 
was  in  Algiers.  I  have  led  a  life  of  utterly 
unbridled  excess,  and  have  done  every 
thing  to  undermine  my  vital  power,  but  have 
failed  to  accomplish  it.  I  have  an  iron,  in- 
destructible constitution.  I  was  in  Eng- 
land, the  land  of  respectability.  It  may  be 
that  I  have  a  special  eye  to  see  them  ;  but 
I  saw  everywhere  nothing  but  masks,  hypoc- 
risy, conventionalism.  I  took  ship  for  Amer- 
ica. You  will  laugh  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
meant  to  join  the  Mormons,  and  yet  such  is 
the  fact.  These  people  have  the  courage  and 
honesty  to  ordain  polygamy  by  law,  while 
in  the  rest  of  the  world  it  exists  under  a 
lying  disguise.  But  I  was  not  suited  to  that 
community.  I  soon  returned  to  New  York, 
and  there  I  found  the  high-school  and 
the  Olympus  of  gamblers.  The  fast  livers 
of  Paris  and  London  are  bunglers  compared 
with  the  Yankees.  It  was  the  fashion  to 
declaim  against  the  Southern  chivalry  ;  but 
I  have  found  among  them  truly  heroic  na- 
tures, of  the  stuff  out  of  which  conquering 
Rome  was  built  up.  Only  he  who  has  been 
in  America  knows  what  the  being  that 
calls  himself  man  is  in  reality.  Every  thing 
there  is  reckless,  untramelled.  They  only 
dissemble  in  the  matter  of  religion,  that's 
respectable." 

Eric  and  Weidmann  looked  at  •  each 
other.  Weidmann  had  given  expression  to 
the  same  thought  a  few  days  before  at  Mat- 
tenheim, but  in  a  wholly  different  connec- 
tion. 

Sonnenkamp  went  on. 

"  My  five  passes  were  still  good.  I  went 
here  under  the  name  of  Count  Gronau  :  the 
Americans  are  fond  of  intercourse  with 
noblemen.  After  a  wild  night,  I  shot  a  man 
who  had  insulted  me  on  the  public  street. 
I  fled,  and  lived  for  a  time  among  the  horse- 
thieves  of  Arkansas.  It  was  a  droll  life,  a 
life  of  craft  and  adventure  that  nowhere 
else  has  its  like.  Man  becomes  there  a 
lurking  beast  of  prey,  and  my  body  under- 
went the  most  monstrous  experiences.  I 
left  this  partnership,  and  became  a  sailor  on 
a  whaling-ship.  I  had  shot  lions  and  leop- 
ards in  Algiers,  and  now  I  was  hunting  the 
king  of  the  ocean.  The  whole  world  is 
here  only  to  be  captured  and  subdued.  I 
have  been  through  all  sorts  of  experience. 
I  soon  gained  dexterity  enough  to  reach  the 
position  of  boat-steerer,  and  I  was  appoint- 


ed to  this.  There  was  one  thing  more ;  to 
hunt  men,  the  merriest  of  all.  This  was 
adventure  worth  engaging  in,  this  man- 
hunting  :  here  was  a  new  excitement,  a 
novel  attraction.  We  sailed  for  Madagas- 
car through  many  perils.  We  caught  men 
and  bought  men ;  boldness  and  cunning 
were  called  into  activity,  and, the  business 
pleased  me.  Great  risk,  great  profits.  In 
Louisiana,  where  the  great  sugar  planta- 
tions have  each  three,  tour,  and  five  thou- 
sand slaves,  and  in  Charleston,  South  Caro- 
lina, are  the  chief  slave-markets ;  for  the 
most  part,  boys  are  carried  there,  and  no 
elderly  men.  You  will  consider  it  con- 
temptible ;  but  it  does  appear  to  me  a 
triumph  of  human  freedom  and  power  for 
one  man  to  steal  and  sell  another.  No  ani- 
mal can  so  seize  and  serve  his  kind,  always 
supposing,  though  by  no  means  granting  the 
fact,  that  negroes  are  men.  Yes,  I  have 
been  a  slave-trader  :  they  called  me  the  sea- 
eagle.  That  bird  has  the  sharpest  scent, 
he  flies  off,  and  cannot  be  caught.  It  was  a 
bold  and  beautiful  pastime.  I  have  even 
stolen  the  chief  who  was  selling  me  his  sub- 
jects. These  talking  black  beasts  are  equal 
to  their  so-called  fellow-men  in  one  respect, 
perhaps,  —  I  say  perhaps,  —  they  can  play 
the  hypocrite  like  white  men.  No  beast 
can  dissemble,  and,  if  dissembling  can  give'a 
title  to  human  rights,  then  the  blacks  deserve 
that  title.  After  the  first  burst  of  rage,  the 
chief  was  very  tractable  ;  but  one  day  I  was 
pursued,  with  my  cargo  on  board,  by  an 
English  ship,  and  had  to  pitch  the  whole 
human  dust-heap  into  the  sea.  This  gave 
food  to  the  sharks.  Look  here,  this  is  the 
finger  which  the  chief  tried  to  bite  off :  you 
know  how  he  has  made  his  appearance  in 
these  days.  From  that  time  I  left  off  going 
to  sea,  and  carried  on  the  business  through 
others  ;  finally  I  gave  it  up  altogether.  I 
had  enough,  I  had  large  plantations,  and  the 
child  of  the  boat-steerer,  who  had  died  in 
the  whale-fishery,  had  been  brought  up  by 
me,  and  I  married  her.  Such  a  being,  only 
half-awake,  prattling  like  a  child  in  every 
thought,  or,  rather,  with  no  thought  at  all, 
was  pleasing  to  me.  I  had  at  that  time  no 
idea  that  there  were  women  with  great, 
heroic,  world-conquering  souls." 

Sonnenkamp  spoke  these  last  words  in  a 
very  loud  tone.  After  a  short  pause,  he 
continued,  — 

"  I  was  living  in  quiet  retirement  when 
the  insane  party  of  the  North  arose,  whose 
object  was  to  abolish  slavery.  And  when 
my  own  countrymen  entered  into  the  front 
ranks  as  the  magnanimous  friends  of  man, 
I  came  forward  in  the  newspapers  and 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


479 


acknowledged  myself  a  German,  in  order 
to  say  that  all  were  not  like  these  shriekers 
about  humanity.  I  showed  that  it  was 
madness  to  desire  to  free  the  slave.  Humane 
men  wanted  to  render  benevolent  aid  ;  but 
the  wretchedness  of  the  world  is  not  cured 
by  benevolence,  nor  the  poverty,  nor  the 
crime.  The  works  of  mercy,  all  seven  to- 
gether, do  not  help  the  world,  they  are  all 
quack-remedies  :  the  only  real  benevolence 
to  the  lower  orders  of  men  is  slavery.  They 
want  to  be  nothing  else  than  what  they 
are  :  the  best  thing  is  for  them  to  be  taken 
care  of  by  their  masters  —  for  the  blacks 
certainly,  and  no  less  so,  perhaps,  for  the 
whites.  Herr  Weidmann  knows  that  his 
nephew  has  been  my  bitterest  enemy.  I 
was  in  the  Southern  States,  and  there  I  and 
my  compeers  were  nobles.  We  are  the 
privileged  class.  "  There  are  privileged 
races,  and  privileged  persons  among  those 
races.  The  barons  of  the  Southern  States 
seemed  to  me  the  only  honest  men  I  had 
become  acquainted  with;  everywhere  else 
there  was  hypocrisy.  I  was  displeased,  in- 
deed, that  they  wanted  to  get  for  their 
cause  the  cover  of  religion ;  but  it  was  a 
rich  joke  that  the  ministers  of  religion  vol- 
unteered their  aid  in  this  attempt. 

"  But  I  soon  learned  to  have  less  regard 
even  for  this  Southern  chivalry.  They  are 
hypocrites,  too ;  for  they  hold  slaves,  and 
yet  despise  him  who  imports  the  slaves. 
This  is  a  remnant  of  the  old  hypocrisy  of 
setting  up  a  standard  of  virtue.  Why  deny 
the  natural,  open,  pitiless  mastership  ?  Why 
not  openly  acknowledge  that  which  they  ac- 
knowledge in  secret  ?  Because  the  English 
worshippers  of  rank  place  slave-traders  in 
the  category  of  pirates  ?  Even  the  freemen 
of  the  South  are  themselves  the  slaves  of  a 
vulgar  notion.  Now  it  came  over  me. 
When  I  had  a  son,  a  longing  was  awakened 
within  me  which  I  could  not  appease.  I 
know  not  whether  I  have  already  told  you, 
that,  in  my  early  days,  the  thought  often 
occurred  to  me,  had  I  been  a  noble,  had  I 
with  my  courage  and  my  ability  entered  the 
military  service,  I  should  have  become  a 
steady  man  like  the  rest :  I  might  have  been 
for  a  time  dissipated  ;  but  then  I  should  have 
managed  my  estate,  and  been  the  founder 
of  an  honorable  line.  The  fundamental 
cause  of  my  adventurous,  restless  life 
always  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  fact  that  I 
was  a  commoner,  having  every  claim  to  a 
privileged  station,  and  yet  always  thrust 
into  the  back-ground.  I  know  that  it  is  an 
inconsistency ;  I  despise  the  world,  and  I 
strive  after  honor.  This  proceeds  from  a 
youthful  impression  of  what  was  meant  by 


the  nobility.  The  only  guaranty  for  the 
world's  smile  is  rank  and  genius  ;  without 
one  of  these  you  do  not  escape  from  medi- 
ocrity and  sufferance.  I  pictured  to  my 
wife  what  a  grand  life  was  led  at  some 
little  court  in  Germany,  and  it  became  a 
fixed  idea  in  her  mind.  One  can  tear  out 
the  heart  more  easily  than  root  out  from  it 
a  thought.  I  see  the  struggle  coming  in  the 
New  World  :  courage  and  strength  are  on 
our  side.  There  will  be  a  slaughter  unpar- 
alleled ;  but  we  shall  be  victorious.  The 
Southern  States  want  independence,  and 
this  is  the  only,  the  highest  thing.  I  have 
labored  in  Europe  for  our  cause.  We  lived 
in  England,  in  Italy,  in  Switzerland.  I 
thought,  for  a  time,  of  becoming  what  is 
called  a  free,  sober  citizen  of  Switzerland. 
But  I  hated  Switzerland  :  it  suffers  the  for- 
eigner to  be  free,  so  long  as  he  is  a  foreign- 
er ;  if  he  becomes  a  citizen  of  the  State,  he 
can  no  longer  be  a  free  man,  but  must  take 
part  in  all  their  petty  concerns.  He  who 
is  not  earning  money,  and  who  will  not  be 
pious  —  one  can  do  both  at  the  same  time 
without  much  trouble  —  he  who  doesn't 
want  to  live  frugally,  will  not  do  for  Switz- 
erland. No  court,  no  nobility,  no  barracks 
there  !  —  nothing  but  church,  school,  and 
hospital,  things  that  are  of  no  account  to 
me.  I  didn't  want  to  remain  in  Switzerland, 
with  inaccessible  heights  before  my  eyes ; 
it's  oppressive,  and  for  that  reason,  here 
on  the  Rhine  it's  cozy  and  homelike.  Ger- 
many is  and  will  be  the  only  land  for  free 
men.  Here  one  pays  his  tax,  and  is  let 
alone.  No  one  has  any  claim,  and  in  his 
position  the  nobleman  is  liable  to  no  inter- 
ference. I  returned  to  Germany,  because  I 
wished  to  acquire  for  myself  and  for  my  son 
a  brilliant  position  in  society.  The  regard 
of  one's  neighbors,  one's  fellow-men,  is  a 
fine  luxury,  perhaps  the  very  finest  :  this,  I 
wanted  to  have  too.  I  wanted  to  give  my 
son  what  only  the  German  perfectly  knows, 
dutiful  service ;  and  with  this  view  there 
was  perpetually  ringing  in  my  ears  one  mel- 
ody—  the  only  sentimentalism  I  can  re- 
proach myself  with —  a  villa  on  the  Rhine. 
This  was  the  dream  of  my  childhood,  this, 
of  my  mature  life,  and  this  has  been  my 
ruin.  t  When  I  looked  the  whole  world 
over,  and  asked  myself  where  life  could  be 
passed  most  happily,  then  I  had  to  confess, 
as  I  said  before,  that  it  is  the  highest  pinna- 
cle of  enjoyment  to  be  a  rich  baron  of  some 
small  German  state.  Here  one  may  have 
a  life  fraught  with  enjoyment  without  any 
claim  of  duty,  and  receive  all  honor  in  a 
limited  circle,  and  enjoyment  besides.  I 
have  become  familiar  with  all  the  different 


480 


THE    COUNTRY-HO  USE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


strata  of  existence.  I  have  caroused  and  scuf- 
fled with  the  red-skins,  and  more  than  once 
have  been  in  danger  of  adorning  some  Indian 
with  my  seal]),  and  I  wanted  now  to  make 
trial  of  the  red-collars  and  their  chief.  I  did 
not  want  to  leave  the  world  without  know- 
ing what  court  life  was.  I  cherished  still  one 
idyllic  dream  —  something  of  the  German 
romance  hangs  by  me  yet  —  and,  not  with- 
out reason,  I  called  my  house  Villa  Eden. 
Here  it  was  my  purpose  to  live  in  enjoy- 
ment with  my  plants,  and  like  my  plants  ; 
but  I  have  been  dragged  again  into  the 
world,  more  by  the  thought  of  my  children 
than  any  thing  else.  Enough ;  you  are  well 
aware  that  I  wanted  to  be  ennobled.  Let 
it  be.  I  have  now  come  to  the .  end. 
But"—  . 

He  paused,  and  looked  at  what  he  had 
whittled  out ;  it  was  an  African's  head,  with 
the  tongue  lolling  from  his  mouth.  With 
one  sharp  cut,  Sonnenkamp  suddenly  cut 
off  tongue  and  mouth,  so  that  they  fell  down 
into  his  lap ;  then,  grinning  like  the  figure 
in  his  hand,  he  went  on  :  — 

"I  have  placed  myself  and  mine  under 
the  protection  of  civilization  ;  I  have  taken 
refuge,  not  in  the  savage  wilderness,  but  in 
the  bosom  of  cultivated  life,  as  it  is  termed. 
To  be  honest,  I  do  not  repent  it.  I  am  no 
milk-sop ;  my  soul  has  been  tempered  in  the 
fire  of  hell.  I  made  no  concealment  of  my 
past  history,  because  I  considered  it  bad. 
What  in  this  world  is  bad  ?  I  concealed  my- 
self from  folly  and  weakness.  Thousands 
repent  without  becoming  any  better.  Had 
I  been  a  soldier  in  a  successful  war,  perhaps 
I  should  have  been  a  hero.  I  am  a  man 
without  superstition  :  I  haven't  even  the 
superstition  of  the  so-called  humanity.  I 
live  and  die  in  the  conviction  that  what  is 
called  equal  rights  is  a  fable  ;  to  free  the 
negro  will  never  do  a  particle  of  good,  they 
will  be  exterminated,  when  it  comes  to  the 
pass  that  a  negro  may  sit  in  the  White 
House  at  Washington.  The  world  is  full  of 
hypocrisy,  and  my  only  pride  is,  that  I  am 
no  hypocrite. 

"  But  now,  honorable  and  worthy  gentle- 
men, is  there  any  question  you  would  like 
to  ask  ?    I  am  ready  to  answer  it." 

He  made  a  pause. 

No  one  made  any  response. 
.  "  Well,  then,"  was  his  close,  "  gentlemen 
of  honor  and  of  virtue,  I  demand  of  you,  not 
for  my  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  my 
children,  to  impose  upon  me  some  sort  of 
reparation.  If  you  demand  that  I  should 
kill  myself,  I  will  do  it;  if  you  enjoin  ban- 
ishment, I  will  go  away ;  if  you  require  the 


half  of  my  property,  which  is  far  more  than 
I  have  ever  acquired  from  the  negroes,  my 
fellow-men,  as  they  are  called,  I  will  resign 
it;  1  thank  you,  and  await  your  verdict  on 
the  appointed  day." 

He  retired,  and  left  the  men  by  them- 
selves. 

Clodwig  whispered  to  Eric,  — 
"  Cain  slew  his  brother  :  the  Cain  of  to- 
day sells  his  brother." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CONSULTATION    OF    THE    MEN,    AND  A 
WOMAN'S  VERDICT. 

Who  could  describe  the  various  changes 
of  expression  in  the  features  of  the  judges 
during  Sonnenkamp's  speech ! 

After  he  had  retired,  they  sat  together  in 
silence. 

Weidmann  looked  bright  and  unmoved  : 
his  clear  blue  eye  was  calm,  and  he  seemed 
surprised  by  nothing  he  had  heard. 

The  Major  was  busy  with  an  internal 
struggle,  passing,  in  review  before  him,  his 
neglected  youth.  He  often  struck  his  breast 
with  his  clenched  hand,  thinking  to  hira- 
himself,  — 

"  Yes,  who  knows  but  that  you  might  have 
become  just  like  this  !  " 

And  he  was  overpowered  by  the  emotion 
caused  by  considering  his  own  case,  and 
that  of  the  man  who  had  spoken  so  defiant- 
ly. He  wanted  to  keep  from  shedding 
tears,  but  did  not  succeed.  He  wiped  off 
the  perspiration  from  his  face  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  at  the  same  time  got  rid 
of  the  tears.  He  longed  to  go  to  the  poor 
rich  man,  embrace  him,  and  call  out  to  him, 
"  Brother,  brother,  you  have  been  a  very  bad 
brother ;  but  now  you  are  going  to  be  a  good 
brother  :  you  will  be  ?  "  But  he  did  not  ven- 
ture to  give  way  to  the  impulse  of  his  heart. 
He  looked  round,  to  see  whether  any  one 
would  begin  ;  but  no  glance  was  directed  to- 
wards him,  except  the  kindly  one  of  Profes- 
sor Einsiedel,  to  whom  the  Major  nodded, 
as  if  he  would  say,  — 

"  Yes,  in  all  your  books,  you  have  never 
seen  any  thing  like  this.  It  is  horrible, 
that  a  man  can  think  and  do  all  this ;  but  I 
pity  him  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  and 
you  pity  him  too  :  I  see  you  do." 

The  Doctor  was  the  first  to  speak  aloud, 
and  he  said  to  Clodwig,  — 

"  We  have  been,  without  meaning  it, 
the  listeners  to  a  comic  performance.  A 
simple-minded  transgressor,  a  transgressor 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


481 


from  the  impulse  of  passion,  can,  perhaps,  be 
converted;  a  cunning  and  hardened  one, 
never." 

"  With  all  my  detestation,"  replied  Clod- 
wig,  "  I  admire  this  power,  which  can  so  lay 
bare  the  hypocrisy  of  the  world.    Oh,"  — 

His  mouth  seemed  parched ;  and  he  moved 
his  tongue  frequently,  this  side  and  that, 
appearing  unable  to  say  any  thing  further. 
He  looked  at  the  expressive  countenance  of 
the  Banker,  and,  nodding  to  him,  said,  — 

"  I  see  you  have  a  word  to  say.  Pray 
say  it." 

The  Banker,  coloring  very  red,  respond- 
ed,— 

"  Certainly.  I  will  not  speak  of  the 
emotion  this  life-history  has  excited  in  me. 
It  is  —  I  know  not  what  to  call  it ;  but 
I  think  it  is  a  history  of  humiliation :  and 
perhaps  a  Jew  ought  to  be  inclined  to  judge 
righteously,  I  will  say  mercifully,  of  all  sins 
and  transgressions  which  proceed  from 
being  slighted  and  contemned.  Humilia- 
tion, placing  the  matter  in  a  social  point  of 
view,  awakens  bitterness,  hardness,  reck- 
lessness ;  and  it  must  be  a  peculiar  nature, 
which  becomes,  under  its  influence,  mild, 
even  to  faint-heartedness  and  weakness." 

The  Doctor  respected  the  man's  point 
of  view ;  but  he  did  not  seem  disposed  to 
accede  to  it.  He  urged  a  decision,  ask- 
ing,— 

"  Have  you  any  method  of  punishment 
or  reparation  to  propose  ? 

"  First  of  all,"  replied  the  Banker,  "  I 
don't  know  any  thing  else,  except  to  take 
away  from  this  man  all  parental  power  over 
his  children  ;  and  we  must  devise  some  del- 
icate way  of  doing  this,  in  order  not  to  in- 
flict suffering  upon  them." 

"  We  Germans,"  cried  the  Doctor  brisk- 
ly, "  are  for  ever  and  ever  schoolmasters. 
This  hard,  seared  villain  of  a  Sonnenkamp 
wants  to  teach  that  his  villany  is  pure 
wisdom  and  logic ;  and  he  contemptuously 
garnishes  his  cynicism  with  ideas." 

"  Exile,"  began  Professor  Einsiedel, — 
"  exile  would  be  the  only  sentence  we,  like 
the  ancients,  could  pronounce  upon  him 
who  has  desecrated  and  insulted  all  the 
blessings  of  civilization ;  but  there  is  no 
land  to  which  we  could  banish  him,  where, 
stripped  .of  all  the  conquests  won  by  civili- 
zation, he  could  atone  tor  his  past  life." 

Professor  Einsiedel  seemed  not  to  take  it 
amiss  that  he  had  an  opportunity  to  put  to 
a  practical  use  the  studies  he  had  made  of 
the  history  of  slavery,  and  to  show  how  the 
Greeks  had  no  perception  of  its  iniquity ; 
but  the  Doctor  laid  his  hand  upon  the  pro- 
fessor's shoulder,  as  much  as  to  say,  — 


"  Some  other  time,  I  pray." 

The  Professor  gave  him  a  nod. 

"  Every  punishment  we  suspend  over 
him,"  said  Prince  Valerian,  "is  a  punish- 
ment of  his  children  :  he  is  protected  by  an 
invulnerable  shield." 

There  was  now  a  longer  pause.  "  And 
yet  we  shall  and  must  find  one,"  cried  Weid- 
mann. "  I  beg  you  to  come  together  here,  a 
week  from  to-day,  at  the  opening  of  the 
sealed  opinions ;  and  then  we  will  come  to 
a  decision.  It  is  our  duty  to  find  some  pun- 
ishment that  will  make  atonement  without 
striking  the  guiltless." 

In  a  faltering  voice,  the  Major  entreated 
the  friends  not  to  separate  :  they  had,  as 
yet,  come  to  no  proper  decision ;  and  he 
could  not  help  himself  out  of  the  difficulty. 
He  would  have  been  very  glad  to  ask  that 
he  might  be  allowed  to  take  Fräulein  Milcb 
into  counsel,  for  he  was  sure  that  she  could 
help  him  ;  but  in  a  jury  one  must  make  up 
an  opinion  for  himself. 

The  heavy  head  of  the  Major  swayed 
this  side  and  that,  and  seemed  to  be  almost 
too  heavy  for  him  to  hold  up. 

Those  assembled  seemed  to  desire  to 'be 
freed  from  the  painful  situation  ;  and  Weid- 
mann exclaimed,  — 

"  I  pronounce  the  meeting  adjourned." 

They  all  rose  as  if  they  must  escape  from 
imprisonment,  or  from  an  infected  atmos- 
phere. They  would  have  liked  to  go  out 
into  the  fresh  air  ;  but  it  rained  steadily,  and 
there  were  puddles  and  small  rills  in  the 
garden  walks.  They  went  into  a  spacious 
apartment,  and  Claus  said,  — 

"  How  would  it  answer  —  allow  me,  gen- . 
tlemen,  to  ask  —  how  would  it  answer,  if  we 
sentenced  Herr  Sonnenkamp  to  go  back 
home,  and  sell  himself  for  a  slave?" 

As  no  one  replied,  he  went  on  timidly,  — 

"  I  dont  know  whether  that  would  be 
just  the  thing ;  but  'twould  be  something, 
anyhow." 

Weidmann  told  him  that  no  white  man 
could  be  made  a  slave. 

"  This  Herr  Sonnenkamp,"  said  Clodwig 
with  quivering  lips  to  Eric,  ';  is  nothing 
but  a  victim  of  the  distracted  condition  of 
our  age.  The  whole  of  humanity  at  the 
present  time  has  a  troubled  conscience ; 
it  knows  that  it  is  not  in  harmony  with 
itself  and  this  creates  a  universal  unrest. 
This  individual  man,  driving  hither  and 
thither,  prosecuting  iniquity  by  night,  and 
extremely  respectable  by  day :  this  is  the 
outbirth  of  our  life.  Ah !  excuse  me,  I  feel 
quite  sick." 

Clodwig  requested  the  Doctor  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Wolfsgarten,  as  he  felt  very 


482 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


unwell ;  but,  just  as  the  Doctor  was  getting 
into  the  carriage  with  him,  he  was  called 
to  Frau  Ceres. 

Joseph  came,  in  a  short  time,  and  in- 
formed Clodwig  that  flie  Doctor  could  not 
leave  his  patient. 

The  Doctor  remained  with  Frau  Ceres, 
who  had  strangled  the  parrot  in  a  parox- 
ysm of  madness,  and  smashed  every  thing 
in  the  room. 

He  opened  a  vein,  from  which  the  blood 
flowed  very  dark ;  and  she  became  more 
quiet. 

Sonnenkamp  did  not  leave  his  room 
when  the  account  of  his  wife's  illness  was 
brought  to  him. 

The  doctor  again  sent  word  to  Clodwig, 
that  he  had  better  remain  here,  especially 
as  it  was  raining  very  hard,  and  the  Rhine 
was  beginning  to  rise  ;  but  Clodwig  insisted 
on  returning  home. 

Now  the  Doctor  came  himself,  and  begged 
the  banker  to  drive  with  Clodwig  to  Wolfs- 
garten,  and  Clodwig  himself  entreated  this 
favor  of  his  old  friend. 

^he  latter  agreed  at  once,  only  saying 
that  he  would  first  drive  speedily  to  the 
town  to  send  a  telegram,  that  they  need  not 
expect  him  at  home  until  some  further  no- 
tice.   He  drove  away. 

Bella  had  gone  to  the  green  cottage  to 
see  Aunt  Claudine,  and  behaved  there  very 
amiably  towards  her  and  Lina ;  but  she 
could  not  help  letting  fall  some  severe  ex- 
pressions in  reference  to  the  Professorin 
and  Manna,  who  had  so  selfishly  taken 
themselves  out  of  the  way  whilst  such  a 
terrible  transaction  was  taking  place  in  the 
house. 

When  a  servant  came  and  informed  her 
that  Clodwig  wanted  to  set  out  immedi- 
ately, she  exclaimed,  stamping  with  her 
foot,  — 

"  I  will  not !  " 

And  then  she  added  :  — 

"  Very  well,  let  him  take  me  up  here." 

The  carriage  drove  up ;  and  Bella  seated 
herself  by  Clodwig's  side  without  his  get- 
ting out :  he  sat  shivering  in  one  corner. 

"  Why  do  you  not  ask  how  I  am  ?  "  said 
he,  in  a  feeble,  trembling  voice. 

Bella  made  no  reply.  She  was  internally 
struggling  ;  but  suddenly  she  exclaimed,  — 

"  Fob  !  You  ought  all  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourselves  !  What  are  the  whole  of  you  in 
comparison  with  this  man  ?  He  alone  is  a 
man,  he  alone.  Here  is  something  grand 
and  strong  among  this  lint-scraping,  human- 
itary  set.  You  are  all  imbeciles,  cowards  ! 
This  Sonnenkamp  is  the  only  great  man,  a 
strong  man,  a  real  man.  Oh  !  if  such  a 
man  "  — 


'  "  Well  ?  If  such  a  man  "  — 

"  Ask  me  no  more  questions.  I  will  drive 
home  with  you,  home,  —  you  have  the  right 
to  command, — what  more  do  you  want  ?  Not 
another  word,  not  a  word,  or  I  shall  not 
mind  the  pouring  rain,  not  the  least :  I 
shall  jump  out  of  the  carriage,  I  shall  go  off, 
I  don't  know  where ;  but  I  won't  be  im- 
prisoned any  longer ;  I  won't  be  banished 
to  your  miserable,  old,  pot-digging,  pretty- 
spoken,  vaporing,  freedom-vaunting,  human- 
ity-rouged world  !  " 

"  W  ife,  what  are  you  saying  ?  Are  good 
and  evil  then  "  — 

"  Pooh  !  Good  and  evil,  these  are  the 
crutches  on  which  you  lean,  because  you 
have  nothing  to  lean  on  in  yourselves.  A 
man  must  be  strong,  and  have  good  grit : 
whether  he  is  good  or  bad  is  a  matter  of 
indifference.  Any  thing  but  weak  and  sen- 
timental ;  any  thing  but  hiding  behind  your 
humanity  with  its  blissful  tears.  A  man  who 
is  not  made  of  iron  ought  to  be  a  woman 
—  no,  he  ought  to  be  a  nun.  You  are 
nothing  but  a  set  of  soft-hearted  nuns. 
Yes,  it  must  be  so;  it  js  so.  A  Jew  to  sit 
in  judgment  on  such  a  man,  and  an  atheist 
like  this  Herr  Dournay  !  Yes,  the  atheists 
are  the  only  consistent  democrats.  All  are 
equal :  there's  no  longer  any  higher  being, 
no  longer  any  God  ;  then  there's  equality, 
and  you  are  everybody's  equal.  Dastards, 
loafers !  May  you  find  goodly  fellowship 
together !  He  is  the  only  man.  He  has 
done  you  too  much  honor  in  wanting  to 
belong  to  you,  you  are  not  worthy  of  him. 
You  are  all  of  you  afraid  of  Jean  Jacques 
Rousseau,  of  the  fool  of  equal  rights.  It  is 
still  to  be  seen  whether  the  world  smothers 
itself  in  this  mixed  mass  of  equality,  or 
whether  there  are  heights  for  it  to  climb. 
You  ought  to  go  across  the  ocean  ;  there's 
the  last  decisive  battle-field  ;  you  are  noth- 
ing but  a  nobility  in  a  holiday  uniform. 
The  Southern  States  stand  erect,  and  if 
they  fall,  there's  no  more  aristocracy  ;  then 
you'll  all  be  clipped  by  the  shears  of  equal 
rights.  Just  call  the  coachman  in  here, 
your  brother-man  !  Don't  let  him  be  out 
there  in  the  rain,  he  ought  to  be  sitting 
with  us  in  the  carriage.  Or  shall  I  call  him 
for  you  ?  " 

She  seized  the  cord,  and  the  coachman 
reined  in.  After  letting  Clodwig  wait  in  tor- 
ture for  a  while,  she  cried,  — 

"  Drive  on,  it's  nothing." 

She  turned  her  head  restlessly,  this  way 
and  that.  Her  eyes  wildly  rolling,  and  grind- 
ing her  teeth,  she  exclaimed  in  a  loud  tone : 

"  Fie  upon  all  the  cowards  !  Oh  !  if  I  were 
only  a  man  !  " 
I     Clodwig  sat  in  the  corner,  shivering.  At 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


483 


this  moment  something  clinked  in  Bella's 
mouth,  and  she  put  her  hand  up  to  it. 
What  is  that  ?  Yes,  she  took  it  out  —  it  is 
so.  In  her  angry  gnashing  of  her  teeth,  she 
had  broken  a  front  tooth,  which  had  been 
tender  for  a  long  time,  and  required  careful 
treatment.  Bella  clinched  the  hand  in 
which  she  held  the  tooth,  and  pressed  her 
lips  together.  What  has  happened  to  her  ? 
The  thought  rapidly  shot  through  her,  How 
vexatious  it  was  that  she  could  no  longer  rid- 
icule those  who  wear  false  teeth  ;  but  yet  she 
can,  for  nobody  will  believe  that  she,  Bella, 
has  a  false  tooth. 

They  met  the  Banker  waiting  for  them  in 
the  town  :  he  said  that  he  had  sent  the 
message  to  his  house,  and  was  ready. 

Bella  got  out  of  the  carriage,  and  holding 
a  handkerchief  before  her  mouth,  and  speak- 
ing in  muffled  tones,  requested  the  Banker 
to  accompany  her  husband,  and  a  servant  to 
stay  with  her.  She  hurried  towards  the 
railroad.  Arrived  at  the  station,  she  was 
perplexed  ;  and  without  taking  the  handker- 
chief from  her  mouth,  she  told  the  servant 
,  to  take  tickets  for  the  Fortress.  Then  she 
sat  still  in  a  corner  of  the  passenger-room, 
with  two  thicknesses  of  veil  over  her  face. 
She  rode  to  the  Fortress-City.  No  one 
was  to  know  that  she  wore  a  false  tooth, 
no  one  was  to  see  her  with  a  gap  in  her 
teeth. 

Clodwig  drove  homewards,  and  often 
wiped  his  eyes.  Above  all,  his  pride  was 
wounded ;  he,  Clodwig,  was  scorned,  and 
by  whom  ?  By  his  wife.  And  on  whose 
account  ?  On  account  of  this  hollow- 
hearted  adventurer.  She  has  never  loved 
me  one  single  instant :  that  was  a  stab  to 
his  very  heart,  and  this  stab  never  ceased 
to  be  felt ;  for  what  he  suffered  bodily  was 
transmuted  into  a  suffering  of  the  soul. 
Who  is  there  that  can  measure  this  action 
and  re-action  of  body  and  soul  ? 

The  rain  had  ceased  ;  but  a  mist  seemed 
before  Clodwig's  eyes,  and  a  heavy  gloom. 
He  reached  Wolfsgarten  ;  but  all  the  apart- 
ments seemed  full  of  smoke,  full  of  haze. 
He  seated  himself  in  his  chair. 

"  I  am  lonely,  lonely,"  he  said  to  him- 
self continually. 

The  Banker  spoke  to  him  in  gentle  words ; 
but  Clodwig  shook  Iiis  head  :  he  knew  that 
Bella  had  never  loved  him,  that  she  hated 
him.  He  felt  himself  humiliated,  scourged. 
Bella's  Avords  had  wounded  him  to  the 
heart's  core,  wounded  him  to  the  death. 

They  drew  off  his  coat :  he  looked  for  a 
long  time  at  the  coat,  and  nodded  with  a 
sad  smile. 

Did  he  forebode  that  he.  would  never  put 
it  on  again  ? 


When  Bella  returned  home  early  the 
next  morning,  he  looked  at  her  with  a  ghost- 
like  countenance :  he  perceived  the  coldness 
and  hardness  of  her  face. 

"  Medusa,  Medusa !  "  shrieked  Clodwig. 

Without  knowing  he  had  uttered  the 
words,  he  fell  back  on  the  pillows. 

They  restored  him  to  consciousness. 
Hours  of  the  severest  pain  elapsed  before 
the  Doctor  came.  Clodwig  had  also  desired 
Eric  to  be  sent  for. 

The  Doctor  came,  and  declared  Clodwig 
to  be  dangerously  sick ;  the  jury  trial  had 
excited  him  too  violently,  and  the  drive 
home  through  the  rain  —  "  and  perhaps 
something  else,"  he  added  to  Bella,  who 
gazed  at  him  without  changing  a  muscle  of 
her  face. 

Bella-  sent  for  her  brother ;  but  no  one 
knew  precisely  where  he  was. 

"  I  am  loneiy,"  said  she,  too. 

She  was  terrified  when  she  said  this  ;  for 
she  felt  that  she  would  soon  be  really  alone. 

CHAPTER  X. 
A   KNIGHT  ERRANT. 

It  was  difficult  to  hunt  up  Pranken,  for  he 
had  lost  himself  when  he  left  Villa  Eden. 
No  man  ever  walked  with  a  firmer  and  a 
prouder  step,  while  at  the  same  time  he 
was  inwardly  crushed,  than  Pranken.  It 
was  something  more  than  external  assump- 
tion, it  was  an  habitual  assurance  that  sus- 
tained him. 

Pranken  would  have  taken  it  hard  if 
Manna  had  rejected  him  in  order  to  become 
a  nun.  But  to  reject  him  on  account  of 
preference  for  another,  reject  him,  —  Otto 
von  Pranken  !  —  He  was  touched  to  the 
quick.  Otto  von  Pranken  had  been  refused ; 
and  he  was  very  deeply  in  love.  Can  Otto 
von  Pranken  offer  love,  and  not  have  it  re- 
ciprocated V  If  the  girl  had  taken  the  veil, 
and  renounced  the  world,  she  would  have 
renounced  him  with  the  rest,  for  he  was  a 
part  of  the  world ;  but  to  be  refused  in  this 
way,  and  dismissed  on  account  of  another 
man  !  —  Otto  von  Pranken  loves,  and  his 
suit  is  not  accepted  ! 

"  Unprecedented  ! "  He  ground  his  teeth 
with  rage.  He  never  thought  of  what  he 
had  been  guilty  of  in  his  life  :  he  only  felt 
his  dignity  insulted,  his  pride'mortified,  and 
his  love  scorned  ;  for  he  loved  Manna,  and 
wanted  to  be  united  to  her,  and  naturally, 
also,  to  her  money  ;  then  he  would  be  all 
right,  and  indulge  his  passion  for  handsome 
horses- 

What  should  now  become  of  him  ?  For 
]  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Pranken  felt  a  pity 


484 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


for  himself :  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was 
misunderstood,  misappreciated  virtue,  but, 
more  than  all,  as  if  nobleness  of  bearing 
had  been  insulted,  and  fidelity  rewarded 
with  ingratitude.  How  great  sacrifices  he 
had  made  tor  this  family  !  And  now  ?  It 
appeared  to  him  as  if  there  were  a  black 
funeral-procession  passing  along  in  his 
thoughts  :  you  cannot  crowd  through  it,  you 
must  wait  until  it  has  all  gone  by. 

He  rode  away  as  if  he  had  been  thrust 
out  of  the  world.  Where  shall  he  turn  ? 
To  whom  shall  he  complain  ? 

Is  Otto  von  Pranken  to  complain  to  a 
man,  to  appear  in  a  helpless  condition  be- 
fore any  one  ? 

He  laughed  outright  as  he  now  called  to 
mind  that  he  had  contracted  large  debts, 
in  anticipation  of  the  millions  which  would 
certainly  be  his.    What  next  ? 

Involuntarily  he  turned  round  once  more, 
and  looked  back  at  Villa  Eden. 

There  was  only  a  single  line  needed,  only 
a  brief  interview  :  yes,  he  had  but  to  ride 
back,  and  represent  this  to  Sonnenkamp,  in 
order  to  come  away  with  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands.   But  no,  it  must  not  be  done. 

"  Fie  !  "  said  he  to  himself,  how  could 
you  ever  have  such  a  thought  as  that  ?  " 

He  rode  on,  and  came  to  the  country- 
house  of  Herr  von  Endlich.  There  was 
a  young  widow  here  :  should  he  now  go 
in  ?  He  knew  that  his  proposal  would  not 
be  rejected  here.  No,  not  yet.  But  he 
reined  in  and  dismounted.  He  asked  after 
the  gracious  lady,1  and  was  told  that  she  was 
travelling  in  Italy  with  her  brother. 

Sneering  contemptuously  at  himself,  he 
again  mounted  his  horse. 

He  would  tell  Bella  and  Clodwig,  —  no, 
not  even  that.  He  had  not  taken  them  in- 
to his  counsel :  in  opposition  to  the  rest  of 
the  world,  he  had  connected  himself  with 
Sonnenkamp,  and  was  he  now  to  be  pitied 
by  Clodwig,  and  stuffed  with  wise  saws  ? 

He  turned  his  horse,  and,  riding  up  along 
the  river,  he  came  to  Villa  Eden  again,  and 
the  horse  wanted  to  turn  in  at  the  gate  ; 
but  with  whip  and  spur  he  urged  him  on. 

He  rode  to  the  Priest's,  and  sent  for 
Fräulein  Perini,  who  came. 

First  he  asked  her  if  she  wished  to  re- 
main any  longer  in  the  family. 

Fräulein  Perini,  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  declared  that  she  hoped  she  had  not 
mistaken  him  in  supposing  that  he  would 
not  abandon  every  thing  to  the  Huguenots. 
She  asserted  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a 
man  who  had  fallen  in  a  duel  caused  by  a 
less  provocation. 

The  Priest  here  said,  — 


"  My  noble  young  friend  !  Not  that,  no, 
not  that :  what  does  it  signify,  this  petty 
duel  in  a  corner  of  the  wood,  and  you  kill- 
ing one  man  even,  according  to  the  code  of 
honor  ?  You  sons  of  the  nobility  must  wage, 
under  the  banner  of  the  Pope,  the  great 
contest  with  the  revolution.  Also  for  your 
own  sake.  On  that  field  will  be  fought  the 
great  duel  between  faith  and  irreligion,  be- 
tween eternal  law  and  frivolous  self-deifica- 
tion, and  the  victory  is  yours." 

Pranken  smiled  to  himself ;  but  he  did  not 
express  how  odd  it  seemed  to  him,  when 
the  Priest  went  on  to  state,  that,  before  it 
was  known  how  Sonnenkamp's  money  had 
been  acquired,  they  might  have  applied  a 
part  of  it  to  holy  ends  ;  but  now  it  could  not 
be  done. 

Pranken  looked  at  the  Priest,  and  smiled. 
Did  not  the  Priest  know  the  origin  of  the 
money  before  this  ? 

He  had  it  on  his  lips  to  say,  "  It  is  very 
amiable  and  prudent  in  you  now,  when 
nothing  can  be  got,  to  act  as  if  you  had 'de- 
clined it."  But  it  Avas  not  necessary  ;  and 
why  should  he  imbitter  against  him  the  . 
only  parties  who  remained  his  friends  ?  Yes, 
he  was  here  still  an  honored  personage,  not 
the  solitary,  abandoned  one,  who  rode  out- 
side there  on  the  road^  up  and  doAvn,  not 
knowing  which  Avay  to  turn.  He  would 
now  be  prudent,  he  would  play  with  men. 
He  said  he  had  separated  from  Sonnen- 
kamp, because  the  latter  would  not  give  up 
to  him,  and  devote  a  large  sum  for  a  pious 
purpose.  He  had  the  right  to  say  this,  he 
thought,  for  he  had  desired  that  it  should 
be  done.  This  was  what  he  would  now 
maintain ;  Manna's  refusal  was  by  this 
means  put  out  of  sight,  and  his  obstinate 
adherence  to  Sonnenkamp  had  in  it  a  sort 
of  religious  consecration. 

The  Priest  reminded  Pranken  that  to-day 
was  the  time  for  the  church  conference,  and 
he  was  expected  to  be  there. 

Pranken  took  leave. 

Friiulein  Perini  returned  to  the  Villa, 
wearing  a  proud  smile.  Odd  people,  these 
Germans  !  She  would  at  any  rate  stay  un- 
til she  had  got  enough  for  herself ;  she  did 
not  want  to  leave  empty-handed. 

Pranken  rode  off.  He  passed  the  villa 
which  had  belonged  to  the  Cabinetsrath. 
Ah !  they  were  prudent,  they  had  secured 
their  part  of  the  booty  before  the  decision. 
Why  were  you  so  simple,  so  considerate, 
and  so  trustful  ? 

He  put  up  his  horse  at  the  station,  and 
rode  in  the  cars  to  the  city  where  the 
Bishop  lived.  He  was  expected  there ;  but 
how  was  he  to  present  himself  to  the  com- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


485 


pany  ?  He  came,  luckily,  just  as  the  meet- 
ing had  broken  up.  He  was  received  with 
marked  consideration  at  the  palace  of  the 
Bishop  ;  and  he  was  glad  to  feel  that  there 
was  still  honor  for  him  in  the  world :  and 
here  he  came  to  a  hurried  resolve. 

Here,  also,  Bella's  messenger  overtook 
him. 

He  set  out,  and  reached  Wolfsgarten. 
The  first  person  he  met  was  the  Banker, 
who  told  him,  with  great  emotion,  that 
Clodwig  was  very  ill.  Pranken  looked 
haughtily  at  the  man  ;  but  he  had  good 
breeding  enough  to  address  him  civilly. 

He  came  to  Bella.  After  she  had  told 
him  of  Clodwig's  illness,  she"  lauded  Pran- 
ken as  the  only  true  freeman  in  remaining 
true  to  Sonnenkamp. 

Pranken  pressed  his  lips  together,  but 
made  no  reply.  It  was  not  the  time  now 
to  make  known  what  had  happened,  and 
the  conclusion  he  had  formed.  And,  when 
Bella  asked  him  why  he  seemed'  so  dis- 
turbed, he  could  give  no  answer. 

"  Why  were  you  not  at  the  trial  ?  Have 
you  come  from  Villa  Eden  ?  How  are 
they  there  ?  "  asked  Bella. 

w  I  don't  know,"  Pranken  finally  replied. 

Yes,  how  are  they  at  Villa  Eden ! 


CHAPTER  XI. 
SMOKE  AND  DESOLATION  AT  THE  VILLA. 

Sonnenkamp  sat  alone.  He  seemed  to 
hear  in  his  solitude  a  crackling,  a  low, 
almost  inaudible  gnawing,  like  a  tongue  of 
flame  lapping  the  beams  and  joists,  devour- 
ing more  and  more,  and  increasing  as  it  de- 
voured its  prey.  Such  a  low  crackling, 
and  such  a  lapping,  he  believed  that  he 
heard  in  his  solitude. 

He  was  mistaken,  and  yet  he  was  well 
aware  that  there  was  a  spark  kindled,  and 
it  was  burning  noiselessly  ;  it  ran  along  the 
floor  of  the  room,  it  reached  the  walls  ;  the 
chairs,  the  closets,  the  books,  are  all  on  fire  ; 
the  painted  faces  on  the  canvas  are  gro- 
tesquely distorted,  and  blaze  up  ;  and  the 
flames  spread  on  and  on,  creeping  through 
all  the  apartments,  enveloping  at  last  the 
roof  and  the  whole  house,  and  flaring  up 
into  the  sky. 

Suppose  that  one  should  burn  it  all  up, 
and  every  thing  in  it  ?  No,  there  is 
another,  a  better  means  of  deliverance,  an 
energetic  deed,  a  splendid,  grand  —  here 
came  a  knock.  It  must  be  Bella  coming  to 
explain  why  she  was  not  there  when  he  re- 
turned from  the  trial  to  the  seed-room. 


He  opened  the  door  quickly,  and  Weid- 
mann, not  Bella,  entered. 

"  Have  you  any  thing  to  ask  me  in  pri- 
vate ?  "  asked  Sonnenkamp  angrily. 

"  I  have  only  a  favor  to  beg  of  you." 

"  A  favor  ?  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.    Give  me  your  son  "  — 

"  My  son  ?  "  cried  Sonnenkamp  in  aston- 
ishment. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  let  me  finish 
my  sentence.  Let  your  son  come  into  my 
family  for  days,  weeks,  months,  as  long  as 
you  please  ;  only  let  it  be  long  enough  for 
him  to  get  a  new  hold  in  a  different  sphere. 
He  needs  an  energetic  and  free  activity. 
When  your  son  passed  a  short  time  with 
me  before  this  thing  happened,  I  perceived 
with  satisfaction  that  he  had  very  little  per- 
sonal vanity  with  all  his  beauty.  He  takes 
pleasure  in  looking  at  others  rather  than  at 
himself.  This  would  be  of  help ;  and  I 
would  like  to  aid  him  still  further.  As 
your  son  will  not  become  a  soldier,  perhaps 
it  will  be  well  for  him  to  be  instructed  in 
husbandry." 

"Is  this  a  plan  which  you  have  agreed 
upon  with  Herr  Dournay  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  his  wish ;  and  it  seems  to  me 
a  very  good  plan." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  Sonnenkamp.  "  Perhaps 
Roland  has  already  been  informed  of  this 
wish,  and  of  how  well  it  suits  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  blame  you  for  this  bitter  feel- 
ing, I  can  very  well  understand  it ;  for  it 
is  no  trifling  matter  to  be  placed  in  a  situ- 
ation where  others  undertake  to  dispose 
of  us  and  ours." 

"  I  thank  you,  I  thank  you  very  kindly." 

"  If  you  decline,  then  no  one  knows  any 
thing  about  it,  except  Herr  Dournay  and 
myself." 

"  Have  I  said  that  I  was  going  to  de- 
cline ?  You  will  yet  receive  one  proof  how 
much  confidence  I  place  in  you  :  I  have 
made  you  one  of  my  executors." 

"  I  am  much  older  than  you."  Sonnen- 
kamp made  no  reply  to  this  remark,  and 
Weidmann  continued,  — 

"  What  conclusion  have  you  come  to 
about  my  request  concerning  your  son  ?  " 

"  If  he  will  go  with  you,  he  has  my  con- 
sent. Allow  me  one  question.  Is  this  the 
expiation  you  would  exact  of  me,  or  a  part 
of  it?" 

Weidmann  said  it  was  not. 

The  carriage  in  which  the  Professorin, 
Roland,  and  Manna  returned,  now  entered 
the  court-yard.  Weidmann  welcomed  the 
Professorin  very  cordially,  having  known 
her  a  long  time  ago.  He  saw  now  for  the 
first  time,  as  a  matron,  the  once  blooming 


486 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


beauty.  The  three  brought  from  Matten- 
heim a  fresh  strength  for  all  that  lay  before 
them. 

As  they  were  sitting  together  in  the  green 
cottage,  a  messenger  on  horseback  came 
from  Clod  wig  to  summon  Eric  to  his  side. 

Weidmann  now  renewed  the  proposal 
for  Roland  to  go  with  him  to  Mattenheim. 
Roland  was  advised  by  them  all  to  go. 
Declaring  that  he  needed  no  inducement, 
he  readily  assented,  and  drove  away  with 
Weidmann,  Prince  Valerian,  and  Knopf. 
He  was  protected  and  sheltered  by  such  a 
number  of  good  men. 

Mauenheim  was  situated  on  the  other 
bank  of  the  Rhine ;  and,  while  the  carnage 
was  being  ferried  across,  Roland  stood  at 
the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  gazed  in  silence  for 
a  long  time  at  the  parental  home.  Tears 
came  into  his  eyes  ;  but  he  restrained  them. 

A  tornado  swept  through  the  park,  eddy- 
ing around  the  house  ;  and  the  fires  just 
kindled  in  it  were  extinguished.  The  many 
fire-places  were  of  no  avail,  the  whole  house 
was  full  of  smoke  ;  and  a  whirling  gust  of 
wind  seemed  to  tear  all  the  inmates  of  Villa 
Eden  away  from  each  other.  Roland  was 
gone,  Pranken  was  seen  there  no  more, 
Manna  lived  with  the  Professorin  in  the 
green  cottage,  and  Eric  had  ridden  away. 
Only  Sonnenkamp  and  Frau  Geres  were 
there.  Fräulein  Perini  came,  and  informed 
Sonnenkamp  that  his  wife  desired  to  speak 
with  him  instantly :  she  was  in  a  state 
wholly  beyond  her  control. 

Sonnenkamp  hurried  to  Frau  Ceres' 
apartment ;  but  she  was  not  there.  The 
maid  said  that  as  soon  as  Fräulein  Perini 
had  left  the  room,  she  had  hurried  through 
the  house  into  the  park.  They  went  after 
her  immediately,  calling  her  by  name. 
They  found  her,  at  last,  sitting  on  the  river 
bank,  in  the  midst  of  the  storm,  splendidly 
dressed,  with  a  coronet  on  her  head,  thick 
rows  of  pearls  on  her  bare  neck,  heavy 
bracelets  on  her  arms,  and  a  girdle  of  glit- 
tering emeralds  around  her  waist.  She 
looked  at  Sonnenkamp  with  a  strange  smile, 
and  then  said,  — 

"  You  have  given  me>  rich  and  beautiful 
ornaments." 

She  seemed  to  grow  taller :  she  threw 
back  her  black  hair. 

"  Look,  here  is  the  dagger  !  I  wanted  to 
kill  myself  with  it ;  but  I  hurl  it  away  from 
me." 

The  hilt  of  precious  stones  and  pearls 
sparkled  through  the  air,  plunged  into  the 
water,  and  sank. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  What  does  this 
mean  ?  " 


"  Come  back  with  me  !  "  she  cried,  "  or, 
look,  I  will  throw  myself  into  the  river,  and 
take  with  me  these  ornaments,  the  half  of 
your  riches." 

"  You  are  a  deluded  child,"  said  Sonnen- 
kamp contemptously.  "  You  think,  do  you, 
that  these  are  genuine  stones  ?  I  have 
never  given  into  your  keeping,  you  simple 
child,  any  but  imitation  jewels  :  the  genu- 
ine ones,  in  a  like  setting  and  case,  I 
have  fast  enough  in  my  own  possession,  in 
the  burglar-proof  safe." 

"  So !'  You  are  shrewd,"  replied  Frau 
Ceres. 

"  And  you,  my  wild  child,  you  are  not 
crazy." 

"  No,  I  am  not,  if  I'm  not  made  so.  I 
shall  remain  with  you,  and  never  leave  you 
for  a  single  instant.  Oh  !  I  know  you  — 
Oh  !  I  know  you,  you  will  forsake  me." 

Sonnenkamp  shuddered. 

What  does  this  mean  ?  How  does  it  come 
to  pass  that  this  simple-minded  creature  has 
called  out  his  slumbering  thoughts,  and 
brought  them  up  from  the  depths  of  his 
soul  V  He  addressed  the  kindest  words  to 
Frau  Ceres,  and,  bringing  her  back  to  the 
house,  kissed  her.  She  became  quieter ; 
but  the  dermination  was  fixed  in  him  to 
become  free.  There  was  only  one  thing  to 
be  won,  and  then  away  into  the  wide,  wide 
world  !  But  first  of  all,  he  must  go  to  the 
capital,  and  shoot  down  Professor  Crutius. 
He  struggled  and  wrestled  with  the  thought, 
and  at  last  he  was  obliged  to  give  it  up. 
But  the  other  thing  must  be.  In  confir- 
mation of  this  hidden  impression  of  his 
soul,  there  came  a  messenger  from  Eric, 
with  the  tidings,  that  he  could  not  leave 
Wolfsgarten,  for  Count  Clodwig  was  at  the 
point  of  death. 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A   TRYING  INTERVIEW. 

Eric  rode  to  Wolfsgarten.'  He  met  on 
the  way  the  Major  and  Fräulein  Milch,  who 
were  walking  close  together  under  one  large 
umbrella. 

Eric  told  them  that  Clodwig  was  danger- 
ously sick,  and  the  Major  said,  — 

"Don't  let  him  have  any  other  nurse. 
Fräulein  Milch  will  come  and  take  care  of 
him.  Herr  Captain,  one  ought  to  be  sick 
for  once,  so  as  to  have  Fräulein  Milch  nurse 
him." 

Fräulein  Milch  declared  herself  ready  to 
come  to  Clodwig,  if  she  were  called  upon. 

Eric  rode  on,  and  now  sought  to  put  in  a 
right  point  of  view  all  that  he  had  experi- 


THE    COU  N.TR  Y-HO  USE    ON   THE  RHINE. 


487 


enced,  so  that  he  might  gain  the  strength 
necessary  to  bear  up  under  coming  events. 
How  much  had  happened  to  him  and  to 
others  since  he  rode  out  from  Wolfsgarten 
to  Villa  Eden  ?  Every  thing  passed  through 
his  soul,  and  he  breathed  deep  in  silent  sat- 
isfaction as  he  thought  what  would  have 
been  his  condition  now,  if  he  had  not  ex- 
erted all  his  strength  to  bring  himself  into 
right  relations  with  Bella.  How  different 
would  it  be,  were  he  riding  now  with  a  soul 
torn  by  conflicting  feelings,  unable  to  help 
wishing  for  Clodwig's  death  in  order  that  he 
might  get  possession  of  Bella,  and  obliged 
to  stand  like  the  most  abject  hypocrite  by 
the  bedside  of  the  dying  one.  No  poet 
yet  has  ventured  to  depict  the  mental  state 
of  two  people  who  expect  to  base  their 
happiness  on  the  news  of  another's  death  ; 
and  these,  no  criminals  but  cultivated,  and 
intelligent. 

Eric  looked  upon  himself  as  one  rescued 
from  destruction.  Never  was  a  man  pos- 
sessed by  more  pious  emotions  than  Eric 
was  now,  as,  stopping,  he  said  to  himself,  — 

"  I  thank  thee,  thou  Eternal  and  Ineffable 
Spirit ;  for  it  is  not  I  who  have,  through  my 
education  and  inherited  tendencies,  become 
what  I  am.  I  am  now  pure  :  I  will  not  be 
unworthy  of  it,  but  keep  myself  pure  and 
innocent." 

Wanting  to  get  rid,  finally,  of  his 
thoughts  and  speculations,  he  spoke  to  the 
messenger,  an  old  confidential  servant  of  the 
Wolfsgarten  family.  The  messenger  re- 
lated how  Clodwig  had  come  home  from 
Villa  Eden  in  company  with  the  Banker, 
and  how  they  had  thought  he  would  have 
died  at  that  time. 

The  servant  turned  round,  and,  pointing 
with  his  whip  to  Villa  Eden,  said,  "  There's 
no  queerer  state  of  things  anywhere  than 
in  this  world.'.'  In  the  midst  of  his  deep 
distress,  Eric  could  not  help  laughing  aloud 
at  this  odd  remark. 

"  Is  any  one  of  the  relatives  at  Wolfs- 
garten  ?  " 

"  No  :  the  Jew  is  the  only  one  there.  But 
he  is  a  friend  of  our  master." 

Eric  regretted  that  he  had  entered  into 
conversation  with  the  servant,  for  he  could 
not  restrain  him  from  talking  about  what 
he  thought  would  be  done,  if  the  gracious 
master  should  die. 

At  the  last  hill,  Eric  dismounted,  and 
walked  over  the  wooded  height.  It  was  all 
still.  The  hornbeam  tree,  which  first 
leaves  out,  was  now  the  first  to  let  fall  its 
yellow  leaves  :  there  was  a  rustling  and  a  low 
crackling  in  the  wood,  and  only  the  hawk 
screeched  above  on  the  height. 


Eric  came  in  front  of  the  manor-house, 
and  entered  the  courtyard.  He  went  to 
Bella,  who  looked  pale  and  as  if  suffering 
severely.  He  entered  just  at  the  moment 
that  Bella  was  asking  her  brother  of  the 
news  at  Villa  Eden. 

Eric  was  startled  to  meet  Pranken  here. 
Both  had  to  use  the  strongest  self-control 
in  order  to  stand  up  under  the  interview. 

Bella  thanked  Eric  for  being  the  first  one 
to  come  to  her. 

"  He  is  now  asleep,"  said  she  :  "  he  talks 
constantly  of  you.  Be  composed  :  yöu  will 
hardly  know  him ;  give  in  to  him  in  every 
thing,  he  is  very  excitable." 

Bella's  voice  was  hoarse ;  and,  covering 
her  eyes  with  a  white  handkerchief,  she 
asked,  — 

"  Were  you  present  when  your  father 
died?" 

Eric  said  that  he  was. 

Bella  went  to  inform  Clodwig  of  Eric's 
arrival.  Pranken  and  Eric  were  by  them- 
selves. For  a  long  time  neither  spoke  :  at 
last,  Pranken  began, — 

"I  never  thought  that  I  should  speak 
again  to  Herr  Dournay ;  but  we  are  now  at 
a  sick-bed,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  inva- 
lid "  — 

"  I  thank  you." 

"  I  beg  you  to  give  me  no  thanks,  and  to 
speak  to  me  just  as  little  as  possible, — just 
enough  to  excite  no  remark  and  nothing 
more." 

He  turned  round  and  was  about  to  go. 

"  Just  one  word,"  Eric  requested.  "  We 
shall  soon  see  an  eye  closed  in  death  that 
has  always  beamed  with  gentle  and  noble 
feeling  ;  let  all  bitterness  toward  me  disap- 
pear, or,  for  a  time,  be  suspended.  Let  us 
not,  at  such  an  hbur  as  this,  stand  in  hos- 
tility to  each  other." 

"  You  can  talk  well :  I  know  that." 

"  And  I  want  to  say  what  it  is  well  for 
you  to  listen  to.  It  troubles  me  that  I  ap- 
pear to  you  ungrateful ;  but  now,  in  this 
mysterious  presence  which  awaits  us  all,  I 
repeat "  — 

Bella  returned  and  said,  — 

"  He  is  still  asleep.  O  Herr  Dournay  ! 
Clodwig  loves  you  more  than  he  loves  any 
other  person  in  the  world." 

She  gave  Eric  her  hand,  and  it  was 
cold  as  ice.  The  three  were  speechless  for 
some  time,  until  Eric  asked,  — 

"  Is  there  no  hope  ?  " 

"  No.  The  Doctor  says  that  he  has 
probably  only  a  few  hours  to  live.  Do  you 
hear  any  thing  ?  The  Doctor  has  promised 
to  come,  —  to  return  immediately.  Oh,  if 
I  I  could  only  induce  Clodwig  to  call  in 


488 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


another  physician  !    Do  urge  him  to  do  it :  I 
have  no  confidence  in  Doctor  Richard." 
Eric  made  no  reply. 

"  Ah,  my  God !  "  lamented  Bella,  "  how 
forsaken  we  are  in  our  need.  You  will  re- 
main with  us,  will  you  not  ?  You  will  not 
abandon  us  ?  " 

Eric  promised  to  remain. 

It  had  a.  strange  sound,  a  reminiscence 
out  of  the  past,  with  its  forms  of  courtesy,  as 
Bella  now  asl^ed  pardon  for  not  having  in- 
quired after  Eric's  mother,  Frau  Ceres,  and 
Manna;  and,  with  a  peculiar  jerking  out  of 
the  words,  she  asked, — 

"  How  is  Herr  Sonnenkamp  ?  " 

A  servant  came,  and  announced  that  the 
Herr  Count  had  waked  up,  and  had  asked 
immediately,  if  Herr  Captain  Dournay  had 
not  yet  come. 

"  Go  to  him,"  said  Bella,  laying  her  hand 
upon  Eric's  shoulder.  "  Go  to  him,  I  beg 
you  ;  but  let  it  come  as  if  from  you,  and 
not  from  me,  that  another  physician  should 
be  called  in." 

Eric  went ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  had  gone, 
Bella  said  hurriedly  to  Pranken,  — 

"  Otto,  get  rid  of  the  Jew  as  politely  as 
you  can.    What  does  he  want  here  ?  " 

Pranken  went  to  the  Banker. 

Bella  was  alone,  and  could  not  control 
her  feeling  of  unrest.  She  had  already 
arranged  in  thought  the  announcement  of 
the  decease,  and  had  even  written  the 
words,  — 

"  To  relatives  and  friends  I  make  the  pain- 
ful announcement,  that  my  beloved  hus- 
band, Count  von  Wolfsgarten  of  Wolfs- 
garten,  formerly  ambassador  of  his  royal 
Highness  at  Rome,  Knight  of  the  first  rank, 
has  died  after  a  short  illness,  at  the  age  of 
sixty-five.    I  beg  their  silent  sympathy. 

"Bella  Countess  von  Wolfsgar- 
ten  (nee,  Von  Pranken). 

A  demon  continually  whispered  to  her 
this  announcement :  she  saw  it  before  her 
eyes  with  a  black  border,  even  while  Clod- 
wig  was  still  living.  Why  is  this  ?  What 
suggests  these  words,  and  brings  them  so 
clearly  before  her  eyes  ?  She  could  not  get 
away  from  them.  She  took  up  the  sheet 
of  paper,  tore  it  up,  and  threw  the  pieces 
out  of  the  window  into  the  rain. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  LAST  BLUE  FLOWER. 

Eric,  meanwhile,  had  entered  the  sick- 
chamber. 

"  Are  you  here  at  last  ?  "  cried  Clodwig. 


His  voice  was  faint ;  and  the  small  childlike 
hand  which  the  sick  man  extended  toward 
him  appeared  more  delicate  than  ever. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  he ;  "  don't  be  so  broken 
down  :  you  are  young  and  strong,  and  have 
a  good  conscience.  Let  me  take  your 
hand.  It  is  a  happiness  to  die  in  the  full 
possession  of  my  senses :  I  have  often  de- 
sired to  die  a  sudden  death.  Better  as  it 
is.  Tell  me,  how  is  your  mother  ?  Are 
you  really  betrothed  to  the  daughter  of  that 
terrible  man." 

Eric  could  not  yet  utter  a  word  :  he  only 
nodded  without  speaking,  and  Clodwig  con- 
tinued, — 

"  That  is  fine,  an  instance  of  the  grand 
truth  of  compensation  in  the  world.  Once, 
you  were  to  become  my  son  —  my  son  !  It  is 
better  as  it  is.  I  am  to  have  no  son.  But 
tell  me,  how  is  Roland  ?  Did  he  not  want 
to  come  with  you  ?  I  see  him,  the  splendid 
youth  !  he  is  present  all  the.  time.  You 
have  done  well,  Eric,  entirely  well.  You 
will  stay  with  the  young  man.  If  we  could 
only  know  what  will  become  of  the  father !  " 

Before  Eric  could  answer,  the  invalid 
lay  back  upon  the  pillow.  He  seemed  to 
have  fallen  asleep.  Nothing  was  heard 
but  the  ticking  of  the  clock ;  and  now  a 
carriage  drove  into  the  court-yard,  the 
wheels  cutting  into  the  gravel. 

Clodwig  awoke. 

"  That  is  the  Doctor,"  he  said  aloud. 
He  requested  the  attendant  to  say  to  the 
physician  that  he  would  like  to  be  left  with 
Eric  alone  for  a  time.  The  nurse  gave  the 
commission  to  the  servant,  and  remained  in 
the  anteroom.  Sitting  upright,  Clodwig 
said,  — 

"  Shut  the  door  :  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
in  private." 

Eric  sat  by  the  bedside,  and  Clodwig  be- 
gan, — 

"  This  Sonnenkamp,  so  audacious,  and 
yet  —  hypocrisy,  it  is  everywhere ;  a  jum- 
ble of  grimaces,  of  masks  who  do  not  know 
one  another.  A  sentence  upon  Sonnen- 
kamp  ?  I  have  let  him  off  entirely.  His 
path  is  zigzag,  his  goal  horrible.  Who 
shall  judge  ?  I  say  it  here  to  you,  my 
brain  received  a  fatal  lesion  when  the  fear- 
ful thought  entered  into  it.  When  I  look 
over  my  own  life,  what  is  it  V  I  have 
filled  out  a  uniform :  we  are  walking,  empty 
sentry-boxes,  painted  with  the  national  color. 
If  a  discharge  comes,  we  think  it  something 
very  mysterious  ;  we  whisper  —  all  a  farce. 
The  life  of  most  persons  is  hypocrisy,  and 
so  is  mine,  so  long,  so  honorable  !  We  have 
no  courage,  we  do  not  confess  what  we  are. 
We  are  encumbered  with  forms,  compliances, 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON   THE  RHINE. 


489 


courtesies,  conformities ;  and  all  is  false  in- 
side. We  never  tell  each  other  what  we  are 
as  we  acknowledge  it  to  ourselves.  Don't  be 
afraid.  I  have  no  crime,  no  transgression, 
now,  to  acknowledge  and  to  feel  remorse 
for .  I  have  been  all  my  life  pure  as  thou- 
sands, as  millions,  by  my  side  ;  but  I  have 
not  been  the  person  that  I  really  am.  Do 
you  know  that  grand  word  which  God 
spake  when  he  revealed  himself  in  the 
desert  to  the  holy  Shepherd  ?  It  is  this. 
This  is  God.  '  I  am  that  I  am.'  This  is 
the  truth,  truthfulness,  the  divine  in  every 
man ;  and  men  deny  it.  Who  can  say  I 
am  that  I  am  ?  I  never  could,  and  mil- 
lions by  my  side  could  not.  We  are  all 
glossed  over  outside,  all  and  everywhere 
over-refined  —  no,  not  all,  but  most  of  us  : 
were  all  so,  the  sun  would  never  again  rise 
upon  the  earth.  But  the  time  will  come, 
and  you  are  one  of  those  awaiting  its  com- 
ing, you  will  share  in  its  life,  —  the  time  will 
come,  when  men  shall  dissemble  no  more, 
shall  lie  no  more,  shall  pass  themselves  ofi] 
for  no  more  than  they  are,  and  shall  be 
what  they  profess  to  be.  Do  you  compre- 
hend me  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  perfectly." 

"  Know,  then,  I  tell  you  that  I  have  not 
done  what  I  ought  to  have  done.  I  have 
not  gone  from  hour  to  hour  into  the  presence 
of  those  in  power,  and  said,  1  Thus  am  I, 
and  thus  must  you  be.'  I  have  lulled  myself 
with  a  false  philosophy ;  I  have  persuaded 
myself  that  all  would  be  spontaneously  un- 
folded of  itself ;  that  we  are  in  the  direct  line 
of  the  developing  tendencies,  and  we  have 
nothing  to  do  in  furtherance  thereof.  Ha, 
ha  !  unfold  ol  itself!  Yes,  death  comes  of 
itself,  death  comes,  and  takes  away  the  life 
that  was  no  real  life,  no  candid  reveahnent, 
no  genuine  self.  I  once  knew  a  great  actor. 
To  an  actor,  death  will  always  be  the  hard- 
est, not  only  because  he  has  so  often 
counterfeited  death,  but  because  he  knows 
that  he  leaves  behind  him  his  parts,  his 
masks,  his  paints,  his  wilted  wreaths,  his 
rounds  of  applause,  and  he  can  never  be 
called  out  again.  My  son,  we  diplomatists, 
we  die  the  death  of  the  actor.  I  have  led 
an  unprofitable  life.  I  had  no  fatherland 
to  give  me  other  than  diplomatic  farces  to 
perform.  My  life  has  been  a  busy  inactiv- 
ity :  I  have  spent  the  greatest  part  of  my 
life  in  the  livery  and  the  defence  of  a  cause 
which  I  did  not  respect,  scarcely  had  any 
regard  for.  Here  is  this  slave-trader.  Fie ! 
the  whole  world  calls  out  in  horror :  and 
yet,  in  circles  held  in  high  estimation,  there 
are  far  worse  than  slave-traders.  Others, 
again,  are  not  in  the  house  of  correction, 


because  they  were  under  no  necessity  of 
stealing,  and  because  they  were  bought  off 
by  money  from  being  positively  immoral. 
There,  give  me  now,  I  beg,  a  cooling 
draught,  my  mouth  is  parched." 

Eric  gave  Clodwig  a  draught ;  but  they 
were  both  so  awkward,  that  it  was  almost 
all  spilled. 

"No  matter,  no  matter,"  said  Clodwig, 
smiling,  "  that's  the  way  in  this  world : 
only  the  smaller  part  is  really  drunk,  the 
larger  part  gets  spilled,  wasted.  There, 
now  go,  and  let  the  Doctor  come,  but  come 
back  again  afterwards." 

Eric  went  and  called  the  physician. 
Bella  asked  what  Clodwig  had  been  talking 
about.  He  could  only  answer  in  general 
terms,  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  into 
the  open  air  for  refreshment. 

He  went  into  the  garden.  The  Novem- 
ber wind  was  raging,  and  the  rain  driving 
fiercely.  Eric  wrapped  himself  in  his  cloak, 
and  went  into  the  wood  :  it  did  him  good  to 
walk  in  the  midst  of  the  uproar  of  the  ele- 
ments. He  went  through  the  park  and  the 
wood,  by  the  same  path  which  he  had  fol- 
lowed on  the  morning  after  telling  the  story 
of  his  life  to  his  newly-won  friend  Clodwig. 
Now  he  could  not  stride  on  in  exultant 
mood,  as  if  borne  onward  by  an  external 
force ;  now  he  must  battle  with  the  storm 
which  roared  over  him  through  the  tree-tops. 
Now,  as  then,  he  stood  under  the  covered 
pavilion ;  but  in  the  wide  landscape  he 
could  see  nothing  but  clouds  of  driving 
rain.  Close  to  the  wall  of  the  building 
there  was  still  one  beautiful  blue-bell  :  un- 
consciously he  broke  it  off,  and,  as  he 
returned  to  the  house,  it  occurred  to  him  to 
carry  the  flower  to  the  invalid.  He  entered 
the  sick-chamber,  and  Clodwig  cried,  — 

"  Ah,  the  blue  flower  !  You  gather  it 
and  bring  it  to  me.  We  have  dreamed  of 
them  often  in  my  youth.  Youth,  youth !  " 
repeated  the  sick  man  often. 

He  seized  the  flower,  then  leaned  far  out 
of  bed,  and  smelled  of  Eric's  clothes,  say- 
ing, — 

"  Ah  !  my  son,  why  do  the  Bible  pictures 
come  up  before  me  now  ?  The  patriarch 
Isaac  said  to  his  son  as  he  came  to  his  sick- 
bed, 4  The  smell  of  my  son  is  as  the  smell 
of  a  field  which  the  Lord  hath  blessed.' 
Yes,  Eric,  you  bring  all  the  free  air  of  the 
fields  into  my  sick-room.  When  I  am  no 
more,  remember  that  you  have  done  me 
good." 

Eric  wept. 

"  Yes,  weep,  it  is  well,  it  will  do  you  no 
harm  that  I  make  your  heart  heavy.  You 
will  be  happy  and  active  on  the  earth 


490 


THE  COÜNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


whose  clods  will  soon  rest  on  me.  Only,  I 
pray  you,  stay  by  me  when  I  die  ;  and  when 
I  am  dead,  and  they  prepare  me  for  the 
grave,  take  something  from  my  heart  which 
must  stay  there  till  it  has  stopped  beating. 
Stay  with  me,  Eric,  I  will  not  think  of  petty, 
individual  interests.  I  will  not  leave  the 
world  in  hatred  and  anger — no,  not  in 
hatred  and  anger  against  any  man.  Help 
me  to  attain  to  the  universal,  the  grand  :  in 
those  I  will  live  and  die." 

He  lay  back  on  his  pillows  ;  and,  as  Eric 
leaned  over  him,  his  breath  came  quietly, 
and  on  his  face  was  a  gentle  smile.  What 
thoughts  might  now  be  stirring  this 
soul  ? 

Eric  wanted  to  send  a  messenger  to  Villa 
Eden,  to  say  that  he  must  remain  where  he 
was.  Lootz,  who  had  been  sent  by  Herr 
Sonnenkamp  to  inquire  for  the  Count,  car- 
ried the  message  back. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  OF  A  DYING 
SEER. 

Clodwig  slept  several  hours,  while  Eric 
sat  with  the  Banker,  and  drew  refreshment 
from  his  self-forgetting  sympathy.  The 
Banker  failed  in  many  of  the  ordinary 
forms  of  society ;  but  he  possessed  a  nature 
full  of  tact,  and,  in  the  midst  of  his  deep 
emotion,  Eric  thought  that  only  unselfish- 
ness has  genuine  tact.  Want  of  tact  is  at 
bottom  selfishness ;  for  the  man  who  is  with- 
out it  thinks  and  acts  only  for  himself. 

Eric  now  saw  the  Banker  in  a  new  light. 
In  Carlsbad  he  had  made  rather  an  effort  to 
display  his  intelligence ;  but  now  his  gentle 
and  sensible  character  showed  itself  natu- 
rally. Eric  remembered  the  Banker's  once 
having  said- to  him  at  Carlsbad,  "  The  Jews 
are  the  children  of  compassion  :  they  under- 
stand how  to  bear  and  to  relieve  sorrow 
much  better  than  to  create  joy  ;  the  remem- 
brance of  past  oppression  gives  them  sym- 
pathy with  all  suffering." 

The  Banker  was  ready  to  lend  help  at 
any  moment,  but  allowed  himself  to  be  put 
in  the  background  again  immediately. 

Bella  treated  him  with  manifest  neglect, 
but  he  took  it  good-humoredly,  showing 
without  words  that  he  was  not  offended. 
She  acte*d  like  her  mother's  own  child  ;  and 
moreover,  he  thought,  she  was  not  his 
friend.  Clodwig  was  his  friend,  and  he 
regarded  it  as  a  duty  to  bear  something  for 
his  sake.  He  sat  in  the  library,  ready  to 
answer  any  call,  and  retiring  again  as  soon 


as  he  believed  himself  in  the  way.  To- 
wards midnight,  Eric  was  suddenly  sum- 
moned ;  Clodwig  had  waked,  and  asked  for 
him. 

"  Ah !  I  have  slept  so  well,"  said  Clodwig ; 
"  and  it's  strange,  I  constantly  dream  now 
of  my  cousin  Hatty,  whom  I  am  to  marry. 
I  like  her,  and  she  likes  me ;  but  she  has 
learned,  and  will  learn  nothing  at  all,  and 
she  has  such  a  shrill  laugh,  and  sajys, 
'  Come,  Clodwig,  your're  so  sad,  come,  marry 
me,  we'll  be  merry.'  And  then  I  say, 
'  Child,  I'm  so  old  already  !  see,  I've  no 
teeth  left,  and  what  will  Bella  say  to  it  ? ' 
'  Ah,  what  *  she  says,  '  nonsensical  things  ! 
Come,  we'll  dance.'  And  then  we  dance 
down  to  the  chapel ;  and  there  stands  the 
priest  beckoning  to  us,  and  we  dance  on, 
past  the  priest ;  and  she's  a  splendid  child 
with  beautiful  eyes,  and  loves  me  dearly  :  and 
so  we  dance  on  and  on,  and  I  can  keep  it 
up  very  well  till  I  wake,  without  being 
tired." 

"  Is  your  cousin  Hatty  still  living  ?  " 

"xOh,  no !  she  died  long  ago.  A  few  weeks 
since  a  grandson  of  .hers  was  here  with  me. 
But  isn't  it  strange  that  my  first  youthful 
love  —  I  was  hardly  ten  years  old  —  should 
have  awakened  in  me?  And  she 'had  an 
apple  in  her  hand,  and  bit  into  it,  and  then 
said,  '  Take  a  bite  too  ; '  but,  when  I  wanted 
to  take  the  apple,  she  wouldn't  let  me,  and 
said,  1  Don't  bite  too  much.'  And,  when  I 
awoke,  the  taste  of  the  apple  seemed  still 
in  my  mouth.  Now  it  just  comes  back  to 
me  that  we  were  once  painted  together.  The 
painter  declared  that  it  would  please  us 
very  much  some  time  or  other.  He  did  it 
secretly,  and,  of  course,  the  picture  was 
bought  of  him ;  I  believe  it  is  still  in  exist- 
ence ;  but  I  don't  know  where.  Don't  you 
like  her  name  of  Hatty  ?  She  is  a  half- 
grown  girl  in  a  pink  calico  dress  and  white 
apron,  and  that's  the  way  she  was  always 
dressed,  and  she  had  a  broad  Florence  straw 
hat,  whose  brim  drooped  down  upon  her 
shoulders."  So  Clodwig  went  on,  and  said 
with  a  repressed  sigh,  "  Bella  has  never 
cared  to  hear  about  my  youth ;  "  but  then,  as 
if  not  wishing  to  speak  of  her,  he  quickly 
added  in  a  trembling  voice,  stretching  out 
both  hands,  "Now  attend,  and  I  can  tell 
you  my  story.  I  have  had  a  very  different 
life  from  that  Herr  Sonnenkamp.  My 
father  was  Prime-Minister,  and  I  was  born 
in  the  ministerial  residence,  the  son  of  a 
late  marriage,  an  only  son,  like  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp ;  but  my  life  was  different.  My 
father  became  representative  of  the  Confed- 
eracy to  the  German  Diet,  and  tlien  I  often 
lived  here  in  summer  on  our  estate.  The 


THE    COUNTEY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


401 


society  of  the  representatives  of  the  Con-  j 
federacy.  —  who  knows  whether  it  is  not 
passing  away  without  any  one's  having  pic- 
tured it  truly,  —  I  might  have  done  it ;  even 
when  I  was  still  a  student,  it  was  plain  to 
me  -that  it  was  a  society  which  exists  only 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  every  improvement. 
Come  a  little  nearer  and  I  will  tell  you  what 
the  German  Diet  is,  —  it  is  the  evil  con- 
science of  the  Princes.  I  thought  so  very 
early,  and  I  was  soon  sure  of  it,  and  yet  I 
stayed  in  the  midst  of  it ;  and  the  farther  I 
advanced,  the  more  plainly  I  saw  that  it  was 
true.  All  progress  has  built  itself  up  apart 
from  the  Diet ;  and  there  is  something  like 
it  in  the  Church.  Progress  is  made  without 
her,  aside  from  her  ;  she  has  not  done  away 
with  capital  punishment,  nor  torture,  nor 
the  confinement  of  prisoners  in  irons :  none 
of  these  has  she  abolished.  And  now  are 
coming  the  two  great  works  of  emancipa- 
tion, —  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves  and  of 
the  serfs,  and  what  is  bringing  them  about  ? 
Humanity  alone  in  its  freedom  of  action. 
You  see,  this  Herr  Sonnenkamp  lived  in 
quite  another  world  than  mine,  and  yet  my 
life,  —  Ah,  wait  a  minute,  wait,  I  cannot 
say  more  now." 

After  a  while,  Clodwig  began  again,  — 

"  This  Sonnenkamp  is  another  proof  to 
me,  our  civilization  has  the  same  defects 
as  religion ;  it  also  gives  no  definite  moral 
laws ;  it  is  not  a  complete,  not  the  true  civili- 
zation." 

He  sat  up  in  bed,  saying,  — 

*  Come,  I  want  to  say  my  last  word  to 
you.  Two  things  I  see  looming  up  in  the 
future ;  the  one  is  imperialism,  which  is 
trying  to  establish  itself  in  America ;  and 
the  other,  yet  more  terrible,  is  called  a  war 
for  religion.  One  party  gathers  around 
Rome ;  the  other,  around  no  man,  no  idea, 
but  around  freedom.  Two  great  standards 
are  raised,  and  around  these  standards 
gather  two  armies.  Invisibly  on  the  one 
banner  is  inscribed,  *  We  cannot ! '  on  the 
other,  *  We  will ! ' 

"  Hear  yet  more.  A  new  faith,  a  new 
knowledge  is  to  come,  which  will  re-create 
the  world.  We  wander  continually  in  a 
grave-yard,  our  life  is  dead.  Only  a  re- 
newal through  a  great  idea,  through  a  new 
religion.    Ah  "  — 

He  broke  off  abruptly  as  Bella  entered 
the  room. 

She  expressed  her  satisfaction  at  Clod- 
wig's  animation,  and  Clodwig  still  pre- 
served a  courtly  politeness  towards  his  wife. 
She  wanted  to  hand  him  some  medicine, 
and  he  said,  — 

"  Oh,  yes  !  give  it  to  me,  but  do  not  say 


any  thing  against  Doctor  Richard ;  please  do 
not." 

Bella  sat  quietly  by  the  bed  for  a  while  ; 
then  Clodwig  begged  her  to  go  to  rest,  and 
she  complied.  When  he  was  again  alone 
with  Eric,  he  said,  — 

"  In  many  painless  hours  by  day  and 
night,  I  have  fancied  to  myself  how  the  hu- 
man race  of  to-day  will  gather  in  countless 
hosts,  and  press,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  up 
some  lofty  height,  to  plant  the  banner  under 
which  they  assemble.  What  watch-word 
can  they  inscribe  upon  it  which  shall  unite 
them  one  and  all  ?  Then  I  saw  you ;  you 
were  carrying  the  banner,  and  on  it  was 
your  motto,  your  words  which  you  have 
spoken,  the  only  motto,  Free  labor  !  That 
is  it.  Happy  are  you  that  you  have  said 
it,  and  I  that  I  have  heard  and  seen." 

A  glorious  light  rested  on  Clodwig's  coun- 
tenancej  and  beamed  from  his  eyes,  as  he 
gazed  into  the  empty  air  ;  then  he  laid  back 
his  head,  and  closed  his  eyes,  but  he  felt  for 
Eric's  hand,  and  clasped  it  tight.  After 
a  while  he  raised  himself  again,  saying,  — 

"  Go  into  the  room  that  you  had  when 
you  first  came  here  ;  take  Robert  with  you, 
and  bring .  the  bust  of  the  Victoria  here  to 
me." 

Eric  went  with  the  servant  to  the  balcony 
chamber,  and  had  the  head  of  the  Victoria 
taken  down ;  that  of  the  Medusa  lay  upon 
the  floor  in  fragments.  He  asked  Robert 
who  had  broken  it,  but  Robert  knew  noth- 
ing about  it.  He  hesitated  to  ask  Bella  or 
Clodwig  about  the  matter,  but  he  learned 
that  Clodwig  had  not  been  in  this  room 
since  his  return. 

When  Eric  had  placed' the  bust  opposite 
the  sick  man's  bed,  and  arranged  the  lights 
properly,  Clodwig  said,  — 

"  Yes,  it  looks  like  her,  your  mother 
knew  her  too." 

He  said  nothing  more.  After  he  had 
gazed  at  the  bust  for  a  long  time  in  silence, 
he  asked  Eric  to  call  the  Banker,  and,  when 
he  came,  he  said  to  him  with  a  child-like 
smile,  — 

"  It  belongs  to  you  too.  There's  a  story 
about  a  little  child,  very  young,  I  can  see 
him  now,  dressed  only  in  a  little  shirt,  sit- 
ting on  a  cushion  on  the  table,  and  my 
mother  is  holding  me,  and  telling  me  — 
I  think  I  can  feel  the  warm  breath  of  her 
words,  as  it  comes  against  my  breast,  she 
had  laid  her  head  on  my  breast,  and  she 
said,  'There  was  once  a  child  who  went  into 
the  woods  to  look  for  flowers,  and  he  found 
beautiful  red  flowers,  and  picked  them ;  and 
then  he  found  beautiful  blue  flowers,  and  he 
threw   the  pretty  red  flowers  away,  and 


492 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


gathered  the  blue  ones  ;  and  then  he  found 
beautiful  yellow  ones,  and  threw  away  the 
beautiful  blue  flowers  to  gather  those;  and 
next  he  found  beautiful  white  ones ;  and  he 
threw  the  pretty  yellow  ones  away,  and 
picked  the  white  ;  and  then  he  came  out  of 
the  wood,  and  there  was  a  brook  ;  and  he 
threw  the  lovely  white  flowers  into  the 
brook,  and  had  nothing  left  in  his  hands.' 
That  is  my  story,  and  that  is  the  other  one. 
I  understand  it  now.  The  nations  all  came 
upon  the  earth,  and  they  held  the  revelations 
in  their  hands,—  the  red,  the  blue,  the  yellow, 
and  the  white  flowers  —  and  at  last  they 
stood  with  nothing  but  their  empty  .Jiands. 
And  then  they  said, '  It  is  well.'  The  empty 
hands  speak,  and  say,  'Unforced  labor  shalt 
thou  perform.'  Isn't  it  true,  Eric,  that  I 
understand  what  you  said  when  you  first 
came  here  ?  I  see  you  now  as  you  stood 
under  the  blossoming  apple-tree,  and  your 
words  came  to  me  like  my  mother's  warni 
breath  on  my  little  breast.  And  now  may 
you  sleep  well.  Good-night." 

Eric  sat  by  Clodwig's  bed,  with  his  hand 
clasped  in  his,  till  at  last  the  grasp  relaxed, 
and  the  sick  man  slept.  Bella  came  again, 
and  Pranken  with  her ;  he  prayed  with  the 
Sister  of  Mercy  for  the  dangerously  sick 
man,  doing  it  without  shyness  or  display, 
with  unembarrassed  air. 

Eric  made  a  sign  to  Bella  to  be  very 
quiet.  She  sat  silent  for  a  time,  and  then 
withdrew  with  Pranken. 

Eric  struggled  with  sleep  and  weariness. 
The  morning  dawned,  and  flooded  the  cham- 
ber with  its  ruddy  light.  Eric  went  to  the 
Sister  of  Mercy,  and  told  her  that  the  long 
sleep  of  their  patient  made  him  uneasy  :  he 
had  leaned  over  him,  and  could  hear  no 
breathing ;  but  perhaps  it  was  on  account  of 
his  own  exhaustion. 

They  went  to  Clodwig's  bed-side,  and 
bent  over  him  —  death  had  come  to  him  in 
his  sleep. 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  GOOD  CONCLUSION  TO  A  BAD  RESULT. 

Eric  had  Pranken  called,  and  charged 
him  with  the  duty  of  informing  his  sister ; 
but  Pranken  insisted  that  they  should  let 
Bella  sleep  as  long  as  she  would,  as  she 
needed  the  strength.  So  the  dawning  day 
grew  brighter  and  brighter,  and  the  Sister  of 
Mercy  sat  praying  by  the  bedside  of  him 
who  had  fallen  asleep. 

Eric  went  down  into  the  garden,  where 
he  met  the  Banker  :  he  silently  gave  him 
his  hand,  and  they  walked  on  together  with- 


out speaking.  Eric  was  called  in  to  Bella, 
who  was  upon  the  sofa,  weeping.  The 
Sister  of  Mercy  had  broken  the  news  to 
her  when  she  woke.  Bella  had  been  with 
the  corpse,  and  now  was  mourning  loud  and 
immoderately.  Eric  consoled  her,  request- 
ing that  she  would  excuse  his  absence  tor  a 
few  hours,  as  he  must  see  how  they  all  were 
at  the  Villa,  and  would  return  by  evening. 
He  rode  homewards. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  Claus  met 
him  with  his  son,  the  Cooper  ;  and  the  field- 
guard  cried,  — 

"  Good  luck,  Herr  Captain  !  good  luck  for 
you ;  and  you  are  good  luck  for  us  too. 
We've  just  bought  the  Carp  Inn  for  Ferdi- 
nand. Could  there  be  any  thing  better? 
I'm  father  of  an  inn." 

Eric  hushed  him,  but  could  not  get  in  a 
word  ;  for  Claus  exclaimed,  — 

"  Do  you  know  that  now  Sevenpiper's 
going  to  let  his  daughter  marry  Ferdinand  ? 
and  it's  all  owing  to  you." 

"Me?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  If  the  rich  Sonnenkamp 
can  let  his  daughter  marry  a  teacher, 
Sevenpiper  can  give  his  daughter  to  the 
Cooper.  Isn't  that  so  ?  O  Herr  Captain  ! 
you  are  a  good  luck  for  us  all.  And  here, 
Herr  Captain,  here's  my  hand  :  I'll  drink 
not  a  drop  more  after  to-day,  except  when 
I'm  thirsty  :  mayn't  I  quench  my  thirst  ? 
Thank  heaven,  I've  got  a  very  good  thirst. 
But  at  the  wedding  I'll  have  a  time 
of  it ;  for  nobody  can  go  it  like  the 
Screamer.  Come  along  with  me,  Herr 
Captain,  put  up  your  horse,  we've  a  good 
stable,  it's  a  first-rate  inn." 

Eric  could  not  reconcile  the  contradic- 
tion :  he  comes  from  a  death-bed  into  the 
very  midst  of  jollity.  He  told  Claus  noth- 
ing of  Clodwig's  decease,  and  only  begged 
to  be  allowed  to  ride  on,  and  so  left  them. 

He  reached  Villa  Eden. 

"  Has  Bella  any  female  friend  with  her," 
the  Professorin  asked,  as  soon  as  she 
learned  of  Clodwig's  death. 

Eric  said  that  she  had  not.  It  was  pain- 
ful to  the  Professorin  that  she  could  not 
render  any  assistance  and  consolation  to 
Bella.  Bella  had  triumphed  in  the  fact, 
that,  self-contained,  she  had  been  more 
feared  than  loved  by  women  ;  and  now,  in 
her  time  of  affliction,  she  had  no  one  whose 
right  and  dutiful  privilege  it  was  to  come 
to  her,  that  she  might  lay  her  head,  weighed 
down  with  sorrow  and  tears,  upon  a  friend- 
ly bosom.  But  Aunt  Claudine  said  to 
Eric,  — 

"  When  you  drive  to  Wolfsgarten  •  again, 
take  me  with  you." 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


493 


Manna  begged  Eric  to  rest ;  but  Eric  saw 
that  there  was  no  rest  for  him,  for  he  re- 
ceived very  soon  a  note  from  Bella  by  a 
messenger,  in  which  were  these  words,  writ- 
ten in  great  haste,  — 

"  You  must  come  immediately  to  bear 
witness  for  me.  I  am  ruined  and  dis- 
graced." 

Eric  drove  to  Wolfsgarten.  Aunt  Clau- 
dine  accompanied  him,  and  Professor  Ein- 
siedel had  offered  his  services  also;  but  the 
Mother  and  Manna  urged  him  to  remain 
with  them.  The  Professor  was  a  consola- 
tion and  a  quiet  support  for  them  at  the 
Villa.  Eric  promised  to  return  that  night. 
What  can  have  happened  at  Wolfsgarten 
in  these  few  hours  since  Clodwig's  death  ? 

They  came  to  Wolfsgarten.  The  ser- 
vants stood  around,  and  looked  shyly  at 
Eric  ;  one  of  them  saying,  —  Eric  heard  it 
very  distinctly,  — 

"  Who  knows  whether  he  has  not  helped 
do  it  ?  " 

The  Sister  of  Mercy  came  to  meet  Eric, 
and  said  to  him  hurriedly,  — 

"  A  horrible  thing  has  happened.  The 
layer-oat  of  the  corpse,  in  removing  the 
clothes,  found  a  wound  upon  the  Count's 
neck,  and  has  called  the  coroner  :  now  it  is 
said  that  Count  Clodwig  was  strangled. 
You  were  present  until  the  very  last  breath, 
you  are  involved  in  the  most  horrible  sus- 
picion. Inconceivable,  incomprehensible  ! 
If  the  Doctor  would  only  come !  We  have 
despatched  messengers  everywhere  for  him ; 
but  he  is  not  to  be  found." 

Bella  had  heard  of  Eric's  arrival,  and 
pulled  incessantly  at  the  bell :  she  desired 
that  he  would  come  to  her.  Eric  requested 
Aunt  Claudine  to  remain  in  the  lower  room, 
where  the  Banker  was  still  sitting  quietly, 
and  went  with  the  Sister  of  Mercy  to  Bella. 

"  Leave  us  .alone  together  for  a  moment," 
begged  Bella.  "  No,  that  would  excite 
suspicion.  Remain."  —  "  Foh  !  suspicion  !  " 
shrieked  Bella.  "  You  men  are  all  hypo- 
crites. Let  the  world  say  what  it  will, 
Have  us  alone.  Every  thing  is  a  lie,  and 
he  was  a  liar  too." 

Eric  was  alone  with  Bella  who  said, — 

"  I  have  received  a  punishment  more 
horrible  than  the  most  cunning  Devil  could 
ever  have  contrived.  Herr  Dournay,  it  is 
said  that  I,  Bella  Pranken,  have  strangled 
my  husband,  —  I  have  sacrificed  my  life  to 
be  now  suspected  of  this  !  Here  I  stand  : 
whatever  I  have  done,  whatever  I  have 
thought,  now  is  it  a  thousand-fold  atoned 
for.  And  I  curse  it  that  I  have  been 
faithful.    He  wore  the  picture  of  another 


woman  on  his  heart  until  his  heart  ceased* 
to  beat." 

"  The  Doctor  is  here,"  was  suddenly 
called  outside. 

The  Doctor  and  Pranken  entered;  and 
the  Doctor  said,  — 

"  I  know  the  whole.  This  blockhead  of 
a  coroner !  Every  ignorant  person  knows 
that  a  wound  on  a  corpse  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  one  on  a  living  body.  There  is 
only  a  trifling  mark,  a  little  abrasion  of 
the  skin  on  the  Count's  neck.  Can't  you 
tell  me  what  made  this  ?  " 

Bella  now  narrated  that  Robert  had  come 
to  ask  her  whether  they  should  leave  the 
picture,  which  the  Count  wore  on  his  heart, 
to  be  buried  with  him.  She  asked  what 
sort  of  a  picture  it  was,  and  was  told  that 
it  was  that  of  a  lady.  Hurrying  there  in 
her  excitement,  which  she  now  lamented, 
she  had  snatched  from  the  corpse  the  pic- 
ture which  was  hung  by  a  small  cord  about 
the  neck. 

"  It  was  the  miniature  of  his  deceased 
wife  :  here  it  is,"  said  she.  She  pointed  to 
a  gentle  face,  on  a  thin  plate  of  gold. 

The  Doctor  and  Eric  looked  at  the  pic- 
ture, and  then  at  Bella.  Eric  thought  to 
himself,  "  This  was  why  he  had  the  bust  of 
the  Victoria  brought  to  his  bedside.  Won- 
derful likeness !  " 

The  Doctor  said  that  they  must  not  make 
known  publicly  this  passionate  act  of  the 
Countess  as  the  occasion  of  the  coroner's 
mistake.  He  begged  them  to  fall  in  with 
his  explanation,  that  some  of  the  caustic 
medicine  which  the  invalid  had  taken  had 
dropped  down  about  the  string,  and  caused 
this  abrasion. 

To  his  horror,  Eric  now  recollected  that 
Clodwig  had  exhorted  him  to  take  some- 
thing from  his  bosom  after  he  was  dead. 
He  told  of  this  now ;  and  the  Doctor  and 
Bella  shook  their  heads. 

The  Doctor  requested  Bella,  Eric, 
Pranken,  the  Banker,  and  the  Sister  of 
Mercy  to  go  with .  him  into  the  chamber  of 
death.  He  had  all  the  servants  called,  and 
rebuked  the  coroner  sharply,  pointing  out 
to  him  that  only  the  outer  skin  had  been 
reddened  by  a  caustic  medicine. 

Eric  cast  one  more  look  at  the  dead 
body  of  his  friend.  Even  the  statue  of  the 
Victoria,  that  stood  opposite,  seemed  to  look 
in  sorrow  upon  it. 

The  gentlemen  led  Bella  back  into  her 
chamber.  Aunt  Claudine  entered.  Bella 
extended  her  left  hand  to  her,  while  with 
the  right  she  held  a  handkerchief  pressed 
to  her  face.    The  gentlemen  went  down  to 


i 


404 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


"receive  the  Kind's  private  physician,  whose 
carriage  was  just  driving  into  the  court. 
Doctor  Richard  staged  in  few  words  the 
cause  of  Clodwig's  death,  which  was  the 
result  of  a  cold,  together  with  great  mental 
excitement.  They  then  all  repaired  to  the 
room  looking  on  the  garden,  whither  Doc- 
tor Richard  ordered  wine  to  be  brought,  and 
insisted  on  Eric's  drinking  with  them,  as  he 
would  need  to  use  every  means  to  keep  up 
his  strength. 

"  Drink,"  he  said,  "  you  cannot  do  with- 
out it.  Great  demands  are  making  upon 
you  now,  and  the  machine  must  be  ted  with 
wine." 

Eric  drank,  but  he  drank  a  tear  with  the 
wine  ;  for  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  into  the 
glass.  He  left  the  room  for  a  moment,  and 
returned  with  a  little  box  in  which,  he  said, 
were  Clod  wig's  orders,  which  his  friend  had 
commissioned  him  to  return  to  the  Prince. 
As  his  presence  was  necessary  now  at  the 
Villa,  he  requested  the  court-physician  to 
undertake  the  commission  for  him ;  to  which 
he  readily  assented,  adding,  that  in  Clodwig 
a  nobleman  had  been  taken  away,  whose 
memory  was  a  source  of  strength  to  them 
all :  the  moderation  and  perfect  balance 
of  his  nature,  his  repose  and  gentleness, 
were  characteristics  which  belonged  to  a 
generation  that  was  passing  away. 

Doctor  Richard,  who  was  sitting  in  an 
arm-chair,  with  his  legs  crossed  one  over  the 
other,  exclaimed, — 

"  All  that  is  true :  the  expression,  '  He 
was  too  noble  for  this  world,'  might  be 
used  with  truth  of  him.  He  had  the  ad- 
vantage, or  the  disadvantage,  of  viewing 
every  individual  thing  in  its  connection  with 
humanity  ;  and,  as  to  the  thing  itself,  it  was 
a  matter  of  perfect  indifference  to  him, 
whether  it  was  done  to-day  or  to-morrow, 
by  you  or  anybody  else.  He  might  have 
accomplished  great  things,  have  exerted  a 
wide-spread  influence  ;  but  the  task  seemed 
to  him  too  hard,  and  he  excused  himself 
from  it.  Every  event,  every  experience,  was 
made  subservient  to  the  development  of 
his  beautiful  character.  Good,  beautiful, 
lofty,  but  a  childless,  barren  existence  is 
that,  whose  mother  is  a  philosophy  which 
accepts  all  things,  comprehends  all  things, 
only  to  reduce  them  afterwards  to  a  system. 
I  have  often  reproached  him  with  that 
while  he  lived ;  and  I  venture  to  do  the 
same  now  that  he  is  dead." 

"  He  repeated  to  me  once  an  expression 
of  yours,  Captain  Dournay,"  said  the 
Banker.  "  You  once  said  to  him, '  Man 
has  to  do  railway  duty  on  the  earth  ; '  and 
the  words  made  a  great  impression  on  him. 


So  it  is,  we  all  have  to  act  more  or  less 
as  guards  on  the  swiftly-rolling  train  of  our 
generation ;  but  it  is  not  every  one  who  is 
fitted  for  the  post." 

There  was  much  that  Eric  wanted  to 
say,  and  he  might  have  explained  many 
points ;  for  what  had  Clodwig  not  dis- 
cussed with  him  ?  But  he  had  no  chance  to 
speak  ;  for  the  doctor  cried,  — 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  I  am  inclined  to 
find  fault  with  this  man.  Of  all  in  the  wide 
world  who  will  hear  of  his  death,  and  mourn 
for  him,  not  one  respected  him  more 
than  I." 

Some  reference  was  made  to  the  horrible 
suspicion  which  had  fallen  upon  Bella  ;  but 
the  Doctor  repeated  emphatically  that  this 
was  a  monstrous  mistake,  and  heartily  re- 
gretted that  nothing  could  be  done  to  ef- 
face all  remembrance  of  it ;  for  men  would 
always  hold  fast  to  such  a  calumny,  at 
least,  they  would  not  wholly  forget  it. 

Pranken  entered  with  a  clergyman  of 
the  neighborhood,  who  finally  consented, 
after  much  persuasion  on  the  part  of  Pran- 
ken and  the  royal  physician,  to  pronounce 
a  benediction  over  the  body. 

The  Doctor  presently  drove  off  with  the 
Court-physician  :  and,  soon  afterward,  Eric 
also  departed,  with  the  Banker  and  Aunt 
Claudine ;  for  Bella  had  requested  to  be 
left  alone. 

They  looked  back  sorrowfully  at  the 
mansion,  from  whose  summit  a  black  flag 
was  now  waving. 

For  two  days,  Clodwig's  body  lay  upon 
satin  cushions  in  the  great  drawing-room, 
exposed  to  the  public  gaze.  His  counte- 
nance was  peaceful.  He  was  surrounded 
by  palms  and  flowers,  and  candles  burned 
at  the  side  of  the  coffin. 

People  from  the  whole  country  round 
flocked  to  take  a  last  look,  at  Clodwig; 
some  from  respect,  and  some  from  curiosity. 
Bella  could  hear  them  say  as  they  left  the 
house,  "  He  shows  no  signs  of  having 
been  strangled." 

On  the  third  day,  Eric,  the  Justice,  the 
Banker,  the  Major,  the  chief  men  of  the 
city,  besides  an  ambassador  from  the  King, 
and  several  high  officers  of  state,  followed 
Clodwig's  body  to  the  tomb  of  the  Wolfs- 
gartens. 

The  bells  rang  from  mountain  and  val- 
ley :  it  was  the  funeral  of  the  last  of  the 
Wolfsgartens. 

Sonnenkamp  had  meant  to  make  one 
of  the  funeral-procession  :  he  had  actually 
started  for  Wolfsgarten  ;  but  he  was  not 
to  be  seen  among  the  mourners. 

The  Major  said  to  Eric  that  Sonnen- 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


495 


kamp  was  right  not  to  be  present :  he 
would  have  attracted  too  much  attention ; 
and  have  destroyed  the  solemnity  of  the 
occasion. 

Sonnenkamp  spent  the  whole  day  in  the 
village  inn  near  by.  He  knew  that,  wher- 
ever he  showed  himself,  he  would  excite 
curiosity  and  horror,  and  hid  himself  as 
well  as  he  could,  behind  a  large  newspaper, 
which  he  pretended  to  be  reading.  He 
could  hear  the  talk  of  the  men  in  the  pub- 
lic room  without ;  and  the  chief  speaker 
among  them  was  a  Jew,  a  cattle-dealer,  who 
said, — 

"  That  Herr  Sonnenkamp  never  gave  us 
a  chance  to  earn  any  thing.  Very  fine  of 
him,  wonderfully  fine  !  What  ill  report  has 
not  been  circulated  of  us  Jews !  But  we 
never  trafficked  in  slaves  !  * 

The  conversation,  however,  soon  took  a 
different  turn  ;  and  they  spoke  of  the  re- 
port of  the  Countess  having  murdered  her 
husband,  which  was  true,  they  said,  for 
all  the  doctor's  maintaining  that  the  red 
mark  about  the  dead  man's  throat  was 
caused  by  a  little  cord  on  which  he  always 
wore  the  picture  of  his  first  wife. 

A  sudden  light  flashed  into  Sonnen- 
kamp's  face  at  hearing  this  charge  against 
Bella  thus  insisted  upon.  If  any  thing  could 
drive  her  to  a  decision,  it  was  this.  Bella's 
indignation  at  the  suspicion  must  be  favor- 
able to  his  plans.  "The  chief  thing,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "  will  be  to  get  her  to  dis- 
cuss the  matter  :  the  moment  she  does  that, 
she  is  won." 

Finally.  Lootz  returned,  whom  Sonnen- 
kamp had  sent  to  gain  intelligence  of  every 
thing  that  was  going  on. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
AWAY  UNDER  FIERY  RAIN  ! 

A  damp,  autumnal  fog  penetrated  Clod- 
wig's  sick-room  through  the  open  windows, 
and  lay  in  drops  on  the  brow  of  the  statue 
of  Victor}-. 

Still  and  desolate  it  was  at  Wolfsgarten  : 
even  Pranken  had  gone. 

Bella  sat  in  her  room  enveloped  in  her 
mourning  weeds.  Shcliad  black  bracelets 
on  her  wrists,  and  had  just  been  trying  on 
her  black  gloves.  She  drew  them  off  now, 
laid  her  hands  together,  and  gazed  with 
that  terrible  Medusa  look  into  vacancy, 
into  the  future,  into  the  great  blank.  "  You 
are  alone,"  said  a  voice  within  her ;  "  you 
were  always  alone  in  yourself,  in  the  world, 


—  a  solitary  nature  ;  lonely  as  wife,  always 
alone." 

Once  more  her  cheeks  flamed  with  sudden 
rage  to  think  that  any  one,  the  veriest  fool, 
could  for  an  instant  imagine  that  she  had 
murdered  her  husband.  Was  it  for  this  that 
she  had  so  long  crushed  every  impulse  of  her 
heart  ?  Would  the  world  after  all  not  be- 
lieve in  her  happiness  ?  She  went  in  imagi- 
nation from  house  to  house  of  the  capital, 
and  heard  her  name  on  all  tongues. 

The  ticking  of  the  clock  reminded  her 
of  what  Ciodwig  had  once  said,  "The 
pendulum  of  our  life  vibrates  between  recol- 
lections of  the  past,  and  desires  for  the 
future."  —  "  That  was  true  of  him,  but  not  of 
me  :  I  do  not  stand  between  recollection 
and  desire  :  I  want  the  present.  I  crave 
life,  ardent  life." 

She  rose,  and  was  vexed  that  she  could  not 
resist  going  to  her  mirror  ;  but  once  there 
she  staid,  and  was  still  more  vexed  to  see 
that  her  figure  was  not  as  slender  as  it  used 
to  be  ;  and  yet  black  makes  one  look  slender. 
She  seemed  to  have  lost  all  her  charms ! 
Her  thoughts  went  further:  since  he  had 
to  die  before  you,  why  could  he  not  have 
died  years  ago,  while  you  were  still  beau- 
tiful ?  She  shuddered  at  the  thought,  but 
the  next  moment  commended  her  own  sin- 
cerity. Further  spoke  the  voice  within  her, 
and,  proudly  raising  her  head,  she  said  almost 
aloud  to  herself,  — 

"  I  care  nothing  for  conventionality.  What 
I  may  think  a  year  hence,  I  will  think  now, 
to-day.  What  to  me  is  the  world's  division 
of  time  ?  Thoughts  that  others  would  have 
a  year  hence,  I  permit  myself  to-day.  Yes  ; 
you  are  a  widow,  who  will  be  visited  only 
from  compassion,  —  a  widow,  with  none  to 
stand  by  her.  And  then  this  degrading 
suspicion  !  I  can  go  to  the  capital ;  I  can 
take  a  house.  Oh,  what  a  god-like  des- 
tiny !  I  am  myself  a  house,  and  shall  be 
made  lady  president  of  a  soup  establishment, 
and  shall  have  a  select  dozen  of  orphans 
in  blue  aprons  come  to  my  funeral.  I  have 
had  enough  of  that  sort  of  thing '  already. 
No !  I  cannot  live  alone.  Shall  I  travel 
again,  seek  f'orgetfulness  and  fancied  pleas- 
ure in  landscapes,  crowds,  works  of  art.  and 
then  talk,  laugh,  play  in  society  ?  I  have 
proved  it  all  vanity,  emptiness.  Prince 
Valerian  could  be  won.  But  could  I  play 
the  hypocrite  again  in  a  strange  world,  and 
charitably  rejoice  that  the" Russian  peasants 
are,  figuratively,  to  have  their  hair  curled  ? 
The  Wine-cavalier  would  be  very  complai- 
sant, always  making  his  bows,  and  paving 
his  devotions  :  it  is  only  manner  to  be  seen, 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


but  then  the  manner  is  good,  agreeable,  and 
—  false,  the  whole  of  it ! 

"  No,  no !  I  must  away  into  conflict, 
into  war,  danger,  distress ;  but  life,  mighty, 
all-absorbing  life,  I  must  have.  I  scorn  the 
whole  world ;  I  hurl  back  in  its  face  its 
honors,  its  caprices  of  philanthropy." 

A  horseman  gallops  into  the  court-yard, 
a  tall  figure  in  black.  Is  it  not  Sonneu- 
kamp  ?    What  can  he  want  ? 

Sonnenkamp  was  announced. 

"  He  is  welcome,*  was  her  answer. 

Sonnenkamp  entered. 

"  Countess,"  he  said,  "  I  bring  back  to 
you  what  once  I  received  from  you,  —  the 
courage  of  a  hero." 

"  Ah,  courage  !  I  am  in  humiliation  ; 
deserted,  broken,  weak." 

"  You  humiliated  deserted,  weak  ?  You 
kindled  in  me  a  strength  great  enough  to 
defy  the  world  :  I  am  young  again,  fresh 
again.  Countess,  in  this  bitter  and  critical 
hour  I  come  to  you,  only  to  you.  You  alone 
are  now  the  world  to  me ;  you  alone  make 
the  world  of  value  to  me  ;  I  would  gladly 
give  you  something,  be  to  you  something, 
that  shall  make  the  world  seem  precious  to 
you  again." 

Bella  stood  motionless,  and  he  continued  : 

"  Raise  yourself  above  this  hour,  above 
this  year,  above  this  country,  above  all  con- 
ventionalities. If  it  be  possible  for  any 
human  being  to  do  this,  you  are  that  one. 

"  Bella,  I  might  tell  you  that  I  would  escape 
into  the- wide  world;  would  sacrifice,  destroy 
everything  ruthlessly;  put  from  me  wife, 
children,  all,  only  on  condition  that  you 
would  follow  me,  that  you  would  dare  to 
turn  your  back  upon  every  thing,  and  be  a 
free,  independent  nature :  I  might  tell  you 
that,  and  it  would  be  true.  But  it  is  not 
that  which  should  decide  you.  It  is  not  for 
me  you  should  live,  but  for  yourself.  Bella, 
we  read  in  old  histories  of  men  and  women 
who  bound  themselves  together  by  a  crime  : 
such  unions  seldom  last.  I  see  your  soul  open 
before  me  —  no,  I  have  it  within  me,  and 
speak  from  it.  You  say  as  I  do,  '  Here  I 
am  in  conflict  with  the  world.  The  world 
requires  concern  for  others,  and  I  have  the 
spirit  of  egoism  ;  I  am  no  philanthropist,  I 
am  no  charitable  institution.'  You  desire, 
as  I  do,  to  assert  self;  I  desire  a  thing 
for  you,  only  because  I  desire  it  for  myself. 
Others  would  decoy  you,  persuade  you  with 
honeyed  phrases  ;  I  honor  you  too  highly  : 
you  have  courage  to  be  yourself." 

"I  do  not  understand  you.  What  do 
you  mean  ?  What  do  you  desire  for  your- 
self :  what  do  you  desire  for  me  ?  " 

"  For  myself,  what  have  I  left  to  desire  ? 


A  bullet  through  my  head.  But  there  is  one 
thing  which  can  save  me." 
"  What  is  that?' 

"  It  is  yourself.  To  show  you  what  great- 
ness is,  to  see  you  great  —  for  that  I  would 
still  gladly  live  and  fight.  If  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  admiration,  as  bowing  before 
what  is  noble,  before  a  world-subduing 
genius,  I "  — 

He  made  a  motion,  a  step  forwafrd.  Bella 
regained  composure,  and  said  quietly,  — 

"  Be  seated." 

A  singular  expression  passed  over  his 
face  at  the  words ;  but  he  seated  himself,  and 
continued,  — 

"  Countess,  I  know  not  what  plans  you 
may  have  —  yet  no  :  I  think  I  do  know 
your  present  plans.  Do  not  interrupt  me  ; 
let  me  speak.  If  I  have  been  mistaken  in 
you,  then  is  my  whole  life,  then  are  all  my 
thoughts,  my  efforts,  my  conflicts,  nothing 
but  madness,  and  the  pathetic  declaimers 
of  lofty  phrases  are  in  the  right.  Countess 
Bella,  you  once  said  a  noble  thing  to  me  : 
'  A  resolute  nature  knows  no  family,  must 
have  no  family.'  That  is  my  guiding  star. 
1  have  no  longer  a  family ;  I  am  nothing  in 
the  world  but  myself;  and  you  —  you  should 
be  nothing  but  yourself.  You  have  never 
been  yourself  till  now  ;  but  now  you  ought, 
you  can,  you  must  be." 

"  I  will.  You  are  a  wonderful  man  ;  you 
clear  away  all  the  rubbish  that  clogs  my 
being.  '  Speak  further ;  what  do  you 
bring  ?  " 

"I  bring  nothing  but  myself,  Countess; 
I  have  put  away  from  me  all  the  ties  of  this 
world ;  I  say  this  to  you,  to  none  but  you. 
This  very  day  I  depart  for  the  New  World. 
Yes,  there  is  a  new  world  yonder !  " 

Sonnenkamp  suddenly  rose,  and  seized 
her  hand. 

"  Countess,  you  are  a  great  woman  : 
yours  is  a  nature  born  to  rule.  Come  with 
me,  you  have  the  courage  for  it.  There  is 
a  throne  to  be  established  in  the  New 
World ;  and  upon  this  throne  wrill  I  set  you 
as  queen.    Come  !  " 

There  was  a  tone  of  authority,  of  com- 
mand, in  Sonnenkamp' s  voice,  as  he  grasped 
her  by  the  hand.  She  rose  ;  her  lips  trem- 
bled, her  eyes  sparkled. 

"I  thank  you,"* she  said.  "You  are 
great,  and  you  fancy  greatness  in  me. 
That  is  it.  I  thank  you.  O  my  friend, 
we  are  weak,  pitiful  creatures.  Too  late, 
too  late  !  Why  does  such  a  call  come  too 
late  ?  Ten  years  ago,  I  should  have  had 
the  strength  for  it ;  then  it  would  have 
tempted  me ;  I  would  have  risked  every 
thing  then,  and  taken  the  chance  of  shame 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


497 


and  death  ;  any  thing  had  been  better  than 
this  maimed,  idle,  good-for-nothing,  musty, 
relie-hunting,  sickly,  sanctimonious  —  no, 
I  did  not  mean  to  say  that  —  and  yet  —  I 
thank  you.  You  pay  me  a  higher  honor 
than  was  ever  paid  me  before  :  you  recog- 
nize what  I  might  have  been  ;  but  I  cannot 
be  it  now.    Too  late  !  " 

"  Too  late  !  "  cried  Sonnenkamp,  seizing 
both  her  hands.  "Bella,  you  say,  that,  if  I 
had  come  in  your  youth,  you  would  have 
gone  with  me  into  the  wide  world.  Bella, 
Countess,  we  are  young  so  long  as  we  will 
to  be.  You  are  young,  and  I  will  be  young. 
"When  you  came  to  •  me  that  time  in  the 
spring,  I  gave  you  a  rose,,  a  centifolium, 
and  said  to  you,  you«are  not  like  this  flower. 
And  you  are  not  like  it ;  for  your  bloom  is 
fever  fresh ;  your  will,  your  strength,  blos- 
soms. Be  courageous;  be  yourself;  be 
your  own.  What  are  seventy  maimed, 
idle  years  ?  One  year  full  of  life  is  more 
than  they  all." 

Bella  sank  back  in  her  chair,  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  Why  did  you  appeal  to  the  Court," 
she  said  at  length,  "  if  you  meant  to  leave 
before  sentence  was  pronounced  ?  " 

'•  Why  ?  I  thank  you  for  the  question.  I 
am  free  :  henceforth  I  can  speak  the  honest 
truth,  and  to  you  above  all  others.  For  a 
while,  I  really  believed  that  this  would  offer 
me  a  way  of  escape.  But  I  soon  abandoned 
that  idea,  and  now  "  — 

He  paused. 

"  And  now  ?  "  repeated  Bella. 

"  I  wanted  to  show  these  puppets,  these 
children  who  are  always  giving  themselves 
up  to  leading-strings  which  they  call  reli- 
gion or  morality  or  politics,  —  I  wanted  to 
show  them  what  a  free  human  being  was, 
an  undisguised  egoist.  That  tempted  me. 
When  the  time  came  for  putting  my  plan 
into  execution,  it  was  only  for  your  sake 
that  I  carried  out  what  I  had  proposed  ;  for 
you  only  I  laid  bare  my  whole  life.  I 
J  was  resolved  you  should  know  who  I  am. 
I  hardly  spoke  to  the  men  who  were  before 
me  ;  I  spoke  to  you ;  behind  myself,  above 
myself,  I  spoke  to  you,  Bella." 

"  Were  you  then  already  decided  not  to 
wait  for  the  sentence  ?  " 

Sonnenkamp  nodded  with  a  smile  of  tri- 
umph. There  was  a  long  pause.  He  heftl 
her  hand  firmly.  At  last  she  asked  hesi- 
tatingly,— 

*'  Would  not  my  flight  confirm  the  inju- 
rious suspicion,  the  suspicion  that  Clodwig 
was  "  — 

"  Fie  !  "  interrupted  Sonnenkamp ;  "  as  if 


it  would  not  have  been  easier  to  desert  a 
living  husband  than  to  murder  him  first !  " 

Bella  shuddered  at  the  words,  and  Son- 
nenkamp exclaimed, — 

"  O  Bella !  noble  soul,  alone  great  among 
women,  cast  away  all  these  European  casu- 
istries ;  with  a  single  step  put  this  whole, 
old-maidish  Europe  behind  you  !  " 

A  still  longer  pause  followed :  there  was 
no  sound  but  the  screaming  of  the  parrot. 

"  When  do  you  start  ?  "  asked  Bella. 

"  To-night,  by  the  railway." 

"  No,  by  boat.    Is  no  boat  going  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  one  this  very  night." 

"  I  will  go  with  you.  But  leave  me  now, 
leave  me.    Here  is  my  hand,  I  go  wi;h  you." 

She  sat  motionless,  her  hands  folded,  her 
eyes  closed.  Sonnenkamp  took  her  hand 
firmly  in  his,  touched  her  wedding-ring,  and 
drew  it  gently  from  her  finger. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?  "  exclaimed  Bella 
in  sudden  passion.  Her  eyes  were  fixed 
on  Sonnenkamp ;  she  saw  the  ring  in  his 
hand.  . 

"  Let  me  keep  it  as  a  pledge,"  he  urged. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  We  are  not  people 
to  make  a  scene.    Give  it  to  me." 

He  gave  back  the  ring ;  but  she  did  not 
return  it  to  her  finger. 

That  night,  a  steamer  stopped  at  the  little 
town;  there  was  a  storm  of  wind  and  rain, 
and  the  engine  screeched  and  hissed.  On 
the  wharf  stood  a  man  wrapped  in  his 
cloak,  and  presently  a  tall  veiled  figure 
passed  him. 

"  Leave  me  to  myself  1  "  the  woman  said 
as  she  hurried  by. 

A  plank  was  laid  across  from  the  steamer  : 
the  woman  crossed  it,  followed  by  the  man. 

The  plank  was  drawn  up,  the  boat  turned, 
and  steamed  away  into  the  darkness  and 
the  storm.  No  one  was  on  deck  except 
those  two  figures  :  the  sailors  made  haste 
into  the  cabin  The  pilot,  wrapped  in  his 
suit  of  India-rubber,  whistled  soitly  to  him- 
self as  he  turned  the  wheel. 

The  tall  figure  of  the  woman,  muffled  in 
black,  stood  upon  the  deck  of  the  steamer 
as  it  shot  down  the  stream.  Long  she  stood, 
abstractedly  gazing  at  the  water  and  the 
towns  and  villages  on  the  shore,  with  here 
and  there  a  light  flashing  from  the  window- 
panes,  and  casting  a  swiftly-vanishing  gleam 
upon  the  river.  A  fiery  shower,  a  stream 
of  bright  sparks  from  the  chimney,  swept 
over  the  figure.  A  hand  appeared  from 
under  the  folds  of  the  cloak  ;  it  held  a  ring 
between  its  fingers  for  a  while,  then  dropped 
it  into  the  stream  below. 


498 


THE    COUNTRY- HO  USE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


BOOK  XIV.     CHAPTER  I. 
MANY  KINDS  OF  LOVE. 

The  modest  little  dwelling  of  the  Major 
became  once  more  the  place  where  all  sought 
rest  and  found  it. 

As  Eric  had  first  gone  to  the  Major  to 
tell  him  of  his  happiness,  so  the  Cooper 
also,  and  his  betrothed,  first  sought  the 
Major  and  Fräulein  Milch,  to  tell  their 
new-found  joy. 

Here  they  met  Knopf,  who  was  an  especial 
favorite  with  Fräulein  Milch,  because  he 
had  a  faculty  for  being  taken  care  of ;  and 
besides  he  had  brought  her  a  great  many 
books  in  former  days,  and  instructed  her 
in  many  things/  He  must  always  be  the 
young  ladies'  school-teacher,  even  with 
Fräulein  Milch. 

When  Knopf  heard  of  Eric's  betrothal 
with  Manna,  lie  said,  — 

"  That  is  the  way !  It  is  the  old  story 
over  again,  —  the  story  of  the  maiden  freed 
from  enchantment,  which  is  a  great  favorite 
here  on  the  Rhine.  This  is  a  new  version 
of  it.  Only  a  youth  as  pure  as  Dournay 
could  have  set  the  pure  virgin  free." 

He  spoke  in  a  kind  of  low,  dreamy  mys- 
terious tone,  which  so  touched  the  Major's 
heart,  that  he  fell  upon  the  speaker's  neck, 
embraced  and  kissed  him,  and  cried,  — 

"  You  must  enter  our  society.  You  must 
speak  so  there.    That  is  the  place  for  you." 

Knopf  had  come  to  fulfil  Weidmann's 
commission,  and  to  make  some  inquiries  of 
Eric  about  the  black  man  Adams.  When 
the  Cooper  and  his  betrothed  entered,  and 
the  Major  gave  them  his  blessing,  and 
Fräulein  Milch  brought  in  a  bottle  of  wine, 
Knopf  was  the  merriest  of  the  company. 
He  could  not  fully  say  what  was  in  his 
heart ;  but  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  tablets 
in  his  breast-pocket,  which  meant,  "  Here  is 
another  beautiful  romance  for  me  to  write 
down.    Ah,  how  beautiful  the  world  is  !  " 

Into  the  midst  of  this  joyful  company 
came  the  tidings  of  Sonnenkamp's  flight. 

"  And  we  have  not  yet  passed  sentence 
upon  him  ! "  cried  the  Major. 

Fräulein  Milch  smiled  knowingly  at  the 
Major,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Did  I  not  tell 
you  he  was  making  fools  of  you  ?  " 

Without  waiting  to  finish  their  wine,  the 
Major  and  Knopf  hurried  to  the  Villa. 

Eric  was  busy  with  the  notary,  and  they 
had  to  wait  some  time  before  they  could 
speak  with  him. 

The  notary  had  brought  Eric  a  paper  in 
Sonnenkamp's  handwriting,  which  declared 
that  he  had  taken  with  him  all  the  property 


made  in  slave-traffic  ;  he  appointed  Weid- 
mann and  Eric  guardians  of  his  children, 
and  arranged  for  Roland's  being  declared  of 
age  in  the  spring. 

Another  messenger  came  from  Weid- 
mann bringing  the  good  news,  that,  accord- 
ing to  a  letter  just  received  from  Doctor 
Fritz,  Abraham  Lincoln  had  been  elected 
President. 

The  thought  passed  through  Eric's  mind, 
that  there  might  be  some  connection  be- 
tween this  event  and  Sonnenkamp's  flight. 

He  had  no  time  to  dwell  upon  the  idea, 
for  immediately  after  Weidmann's  messen- 
ger had  been  admitted,  the  Major  and 
Knopf  entered. 

News  followed  hard  Yipon  news.  A  tele- 
gram arrived,  desiring  Eric  to  go  to  the  city 
and  wait  at  the  telegraph-office,  as  some 
one  wished  to  communicate  with  him.  The 
despatch  was  signed,  "  The  Man  from 
Eden." 

Eric  requested  the  Major  to  stay  with  his 
mother  and  send  for  Fräulein  Milch  to  join 
him ;  at  the  same  time  he  begged  Knopf  to 
bring  Roland  home,  and  prepare  him  as 
gently  as  he  could  for  what  had  happened. 

From  every  side,  fresh  difficulties  poured 
in  upon  Eric.  How  every  thing  had  come 
together  !  Clodwig's  death,  Sonnenkamp's 
flight,  the  fate  of  Poland,  the  fate  of  Manna 
—  all  weighed  upon  his  heart. 

As  he  was  mounting  his  horse,  he  fortu- 
nately descried  Professor  Einsiedel,  to  whom 
he  told  in  a  few  words  what  had  happened, 
and  begged  him  to  stay  with  Manna. 

He  rode  to  the  city.  A  despatch  awaited 
him,  telling  that  in  an  hour  he  should  re- 
ceive some  definite  tidings. 

This  suspense  was  most  trying  to  Eric  : 
he  knew  not  what  steps  he  should  take 
next. 

He  walked  through  the  city  :  everywhere 
were  men  and  women  safe  in  the  privacy  of 
their  homes,  while  he  and  his  seemed  cast 
out  into  the  street.  He  lingered  long  be- 
fore the  Justice's  house.  Lina  was  singing 
her  favorite  song  from  "  Figaro ; "  and  the 
words,  "  that  I  with  roses  may  garland  thy 
head,"  were  given  so  feelingly,  with  so  much 
suppressed  emotion,  that  Eric's  breath  came 
hard  as  he  listened.  He  knew  just  how  it 
looked  up  there  in  the  sitting-room.  The 
Architect  was  leaning  back  in  the  red  arm-  • 
chair,  while  his  betrothed  sang  to  him ; 
flowers  were  blooming  in  the  window ;  and 
the  whole  atmosphere  was  rich  with  music 
and  perfume. 

Unwilling  to  disturb  their  comfort  by  his 
heavy  thoughts,  he  returned  to  the  tele- 
graph-station, and  left  word  that  he  should 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


409 


be  sent  for  at  the  hotel  if  any  despatch 
came  lor  him. 

He  sat  alone  in  a  dark  corner  and  waited. 
The  ,  guests  were  gathered  about  the  long 
tableNvith  their  glasses  of  beer  before  them. 
Their  talk  was  dry,  and  seemed  to  make 
the  liquor  the  more  refreshing.  Eric  forced 
himself  to  listen  to  their  chat.  They  talked 
of  Paris,  of  London,  of  America;  one  man 
was  going  to  one  place,  another  to  another, 
a  third  was  coming  back:  the  free,  mobile 
character  of  the  Rhineland  people  was 
spread  out  before  him ;  they  live  as  if  al- 
ways floating  on  their  native  stream. 

Suddenly  the  cry  was  raised,  — 

"  Hurrah  !  here  comes  the  story-teller." 

Eric  recognized  the  man  who  had  been  a 
great  favorite  with  all  ever  since  he  had 
spent  his  first  night  in  the  city,  at  the 
Doctor's  house.  He  had  one  of  those  faces, 
red  with  constant  drinking,  whose  color 
makes  it  impossible  to  distinguish  any  age 
short  of  forty,  and  his  countenance  was  as 
mobile  as  if  made  of  gutta-percha. 

The  new-comer  winked  to  the  bar-maid, 
who  knew  what  kind  of  liquor  he  drank  ; 
then  he  established  himself  comfortably  in 
a  chair,  threw  open  his  wraps,  and  drew 
some  cigar-ends  out  of  his  pocket. 

"  What's  the  news  ?  "  asked  the  guests. 

The  man  gave  the  usual  answer :  "  Fair 
weather,  and  nothing  beside." 

"  Where  have  you  been  for  these  three 
days,  that  we  have  seen  nothing  of  you  ?  " 

"  Where  a  man  can  prolong  his  life." 

"  What  sort  of  a  place  is  that  ?  " ' 

"  I  have  been  in  the  dullnesses  of  the 
capital  :  and  there  you  can  prolong  your 
life  ;  for  every  day  is  as  long  as  two." 

"  Old,  old  !  "  cried  the  drinkers.  "  Give 
us  something  new  !  " 

"  Something  new  !  I  tell  you  many  lies 
have  no  truth  in  them,  and  those  often  the 
best.  But  go  out  among  the  boats  yonder  ; 
there's  a  jolly  life  going  on  in  the  cabin. 
Each  one  brings  his  own  cook-book  to  the 
wedding,  and  then  they  marry  the  messes 
together." 

The  speaker  was  ridiculed  on  all  sides 
for  having  nothing  but  such  nonsense,  such 
dry  husks,  to  give  them. 

"  If  you  will  keep  quiet,  I  will  tell  you  a 
story ;  but  first,  one  of  you  must  go  out  to 
the  Rhine,  that  he  may  be  able  to  bear  me 
witness  afterwards  that  my  story  is  true, 
as  the  old  forester  says."  • 

A  cooper  was  sent  out  to  the  boat  that 
lay  at  anchor  in  the  Rhine,  and,  after  letting 
him  know  what  he  was  to  inquire  about, 
the  man  began,  — 

"  I  do  have  the  luck  of  falling  in  with 


the  best  stories !  they  come  without  my 
looking  for  them." 

"  Let  us  hear  !  let  us  hear  !  Is  it  about 
that  big  Sonnenkamp,  or  about  the  hand-' 
some  Countess  ?  " 

"  Ah,  bah !  that  would  be  stale  :  this  is 
one  fresh  from  the  oven.  It  is  called  the 
loves  of  the  '  Lorelei '  and  the  '  Beethoven,' 
or  a  sucking  pig  as  matchmaker.  Oh, 
yes  !  you  may  laugh,  but  you  will  see  that  it 
is  all  true.  To  begin,  then.  You  know 
the  steward  of  the  '  Lorelei  ?  '  —  the  great 
Multiplication-table  they  call  him.  A 
man  of  standing  he  is,  and  an  honest  one, 
too ;  for  he  honestly  confesses,  that,  by  a 
skilful  adding  up  of  accounts,  he  has  added 
together  a  pretty  little  property  for  himself. 
Now,  he  is  single,  frightfully  so.  He  can 
eat  and  drink,  but "  — 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  we  know  him.  What  next  ?  " 

"  Don't  interrupt  me.  I  must  not  antici- 
pate my  story :  it  is  enough  for  me  if  I 
know  it  myself.  So,  then,  the  state  of  the 
case  is  this  :  the  captain  of  the  '  Lorelei,' 
you  know  him,  that  tall  Baumlange,  he  was 
steersman  on  board  the  '  Adolph  '  for  some 
years ;  he  managed  to  make  his  cook's 
mouth  water  for  the  stewardess  of  the  '  Bee- 
thoven,' a  round,  dainty  little  body,  and 
two  years  a  widow.  Greetings  were  ex- 
changed between  the  paper  cap  and  the 
muslin  ;  but  they  never  spoke  together  ex- 
cept lor  a  few  minutes  a  fortnight  ago  at 
Cologne,  when  the  'Lorelei'  and  the 
'  Beethoven '  lay  side  by  side.  Since  that 
time,  the  great  Multiplication-table  smiled 
graciously  upon  the  1  Lorelei,'  but  would 
not  hear  of  marriage.  His  great  delight  is 
to  get  up  a  nice  little  dish  that  no  one 
should  know  any  thing  about ;  and  so  one  day 
he  prepared  a  neat  little  sucking-pig,  that 
was  to  be  roasted  on  the  morrow.  Now,  his 
captain  knew,  that  the  next  day,  and  that 
is  to-day,  the  two  boats  would  anchor  here 
together  for  the  night :  so  he  steals  the  pig, 
and  hands  it  to  a  fellow-captain,  who,  in  turn, 
delivers  it  to  the  widow  of  the  '  Beethoven,' 
with  directions  to  serve  it  up  nicely,  and 
something  else  with  it,  which  order  she 
obeys  with  a  good  will.  Then  the  Captain 
invites  his  steward  to  supper  on  board  the 
'  Beethoven  ; '  and,  since  the  stewardess  has 
furnished  the  meat,  it  was  but  fair  that  the 
'  Lorelei '  Multiplication-table  should  add 
the  wine.  They  sit  down  to  supper  on 
board  the  '  Beethoven,'  the  stewardess  of 
course,  with  them,  and  all  goes  on  merrily. 
The  Multiplication-table  said  a  pig  could 
not  be  better  served,  and  that  it  was  almost 
as  fine  a  one  as  his.  Then  the  trick  came 
out ;  but  they  took  it  in  good  part,  and  the 


500 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


upshot  of  it  all  was,  that  the  two  were  be- 
trothed over  the  little  pig." 

The  story-teller  had  got  thus  far  in  his 
tale,  when  the  cooper  returned  with  the 
Captain  of  the  4  Lorelei,'  who  confirmed 
the  whole  history.  The  merriment  became 
noisy  and  riotous;  and  the  Captain  told 
how  the  newly-betrothed  couple  were 
sitting  together,  and  how  the  same  tastes 
were  in  both  of  them.  They  collected  all 
the  gold  they  could  in  the  summer,  and  now 
they  were  sitting  and  laughing  together  as 
they  polished  it  up  with  soap-suds. 

Eric  listened  to  it  all  as  if  he  were  in 
another  world.  There  are  still  those,  then, 
who  can  take  life  lightly :  a  change  for  the 
better  must  come  in  time. 

Now  the  pilot  entered,  who,  as  custom 
required,  had  been  taken  on  board  the 
steamer  for  a  little  while,  to  steer  it  through 
the  part  of  the  stream  he  was  familiar  with. 
He  amazed  the  company  by  telling  them 
that,  the  night  before,  in  the  storm,  the 
Countess  von  Wolfsgarten  and  Herr  Son- 
nenkamp had  gone  down  the  river  :  he  had 
recognized  them  both  distinctly. 

Eric  had  risen  from  his  seat  to  question 
the  man  further,  when  he  was  summoned  to 
the  telegraph  station.  The  despatch,  which 
was  signed,  like  the  first,  "  the  man  from 
Eden,"  was  to  the  effect  that  the  writer 
was  to  sail  the  next  morning  for  the  New 
World,  and  that  if,  in  the  course  of  a  year, 
no  further  tidings  were  received  from  him, 
he  might  be  considered  dead.  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  the  last  part  of  the  telegram 
could  not  have  been  correctly  written ;  for 
the  question  was  asked,  whether  Frau 
Ceres  was  living,  and  in  what  condition. 
In  case  of  wishing  to  send  any  news  of  her 
to  the  New  World,  the  name  of  a  Southern 
paper  was  given,  in  which  a  paragraph 
should  be  inserted  over  the  initials  S.  B. 

While  Eric  was  still  holding  the  despatch 
in  his  hand,  Pranken  entered,  and  signed  to 
him  to  come  into  an  adjoining  room.  "I 
was  in  search  of  you,"  he  said.  He  looked 
pale  and  agitated,  and  Eric  was  fully  pre- 
.  pared  to  receive  a  challenge.  His  first 
question,  however,  was,  whether  Eric  knew 
whither  Sonnenkamp  had  fled,  and  how  he 
could  be  addressed.  Eric  replied  that  he 
was  not  at  liberty  to  answer  that  question. 

"Ask  him  then  whether"  —  he  could 
hardly  bring  his  lips  to  utter  what  he  had 
to  say,  — "  ask  him  whether  there  is  any- 
one with  him.  No,  better  still,  give  me 
his  address." 

Eric  repeated  that  he  was  not  at  liberty 
to  do  so.  Pranken  gnashed  his  teeth  with 
rage. 


"  Very  well :  ask  him  yourself,  then, 
whether  any  one  is  with  him  about  whom  I 
have  a  right  to  inquire."  ^~ 

As  the  two  stood  side  by  side,  looking 
out  upon  the  landscape,  it  suddenly  flashed 
through  Eric's  mind,  that  in  this  very  room, 
at  a  table  before  this  window,  they  had  sat 
together  that  day  over  their  new  wine. 
Prompted  by  the  feeling  of  gratitude  that 
overpowered  him,  he  said,  — 

"  I  regret  sincerely  that  there  should  be 
such  ill  feeling  between  us." 

"  This  is  no  time  to  speak  of  that  —  of 
that  presently.  If  you  will  —  no,  I  will 
ask  no  favors.  You  are  to  blame  for  all 
this  wretched  complication  :  you  have  made 
every  one  go  wrong.  This  would  never 
have  happened  but  for  you." 

A  cold  shudder  passed  through  Eric's 
frame.  Was  he  in  truth  to  blame  for 
Bella's  fall?  There  was  an  expression  of 
humility  in  his  face  as  he  answered,  — 

"  I  am  at  your  service  ;  I  am  only  waiting 
for  a  despatch." 

"  Good  :  I  will  wait  with  you." 

Pranken  left  the  room,  and  walked  rest- 
lessly up  and  down  the  embankment  with- 
out, until  the  despatch  arrived,  and  Eric 
summoned  him. 

'*  Very  well :  now  put  my  question." 

"  Will  you  repeat  your  question  to  me 
once  more  exactly  ?  " 

"  How  long  since  you  became  so  slow  of 
comprehension?  This  then,  Tell  Herr 
Sonnenkamp,  or  Banfield,  that  if,  before 
twelve  hours  are  over,  he  does  not  let  me 
know  where  he  is,  I  shall  take  his  silence  as 
a  proof  that  —  No  !  ask  —  outright  — 
whether  my  sister  is  with  him." 

Pranken's  lips  trembled  :  he  had  grown 
sadly  old  in  these  few  days.  Here  he  was 
obliged  to  stand  and  beg  for  information 
from  Sonnenkamp  ;  information  on  what  a 
subject,  and  at  whose  bands  ! 

"  Will  you  have  the  goodness,"  he  added, 
"  to  send  the  answer  to  me  at  the  parson- 
age ?  " 

He  left  the  room,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
rode  away. 

"  Medusa  sends  greeting  to  Europe,"  was 
the  answer  Eric  received. 

As  he  was  about  to  start  for  home,  the 
Doctor  came  up :  he  also  had  heard  of 
Bella's  flight, 

"  That  is  a  master-piece ! "  he  cried. 
"  Herr  Sonnenkamp,  with  the  most  skilful 
diplomacy,  could  have  done  nothing  better 
than  that.  Bella's  flight  and  fall  will 
eclipse  every  thing  that  he  himself  has 
done.  This  will  divert  tongues  from  him  : 
all  is  eclipsed  by  this  new  development. 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


501 


His  children,  too,  -will  be  freed  from  the  old  I 
scandal  -r  for  the  fact  of  Bella  Pranken's 
eloping  with  him  will  count  for  more  than 
years  of  selling  slaves.  From  this  time  we 
shall  hear  of  nothing  but  that:  all  else  is 
obliterated." 

Eric  did  not  believe  that  the  fugitives 
had  yet  started  for  America. 

Immediately  on  his  return  to  the  Villa, 
he  was  summoned  to  Manna. 

"  Have  you  news  of  him  ? "  she  said. 
"  Is  he  living  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  he  alone  ?  " 
"  No." 

"  That,  too,  must  we  have  to  bear !  " 

"  Does  your  mother  know  ?  " 

"  She  only  knows  that  father  has  fled  ; 
and  she  keeps  crying,  '  Henry,  Henry, 
come  back  ! '  For  hours,  she  has  kept  saying 
those  words  over  and  over.  It  is  incredible 
how  her  strength  holds  out.  O  Eric  !  when 
we  were  in  your  father's  library,  Roland 
said,  '  In  all  these  books  is  there  a  fate  to 
compare  with  ours  ?  '  " 

All  Eric's  attempts  to  soothe  her  were 
fruitless. 

CHAPTER  II. 
THE  CHILDREN  OF  MAMMON. 

Roland  arrived,  and  Herr  Weidmann 
with  him.  He  had  heard  of  his  father's 
flight,  but  not  of  Bella's.  A  great  change  had 
come  over  the  boy  in  these  four  days,  espe- 
cially in  the  lines  about  his  mouth :  its 
childish  expression  had  changed  into  one 
of  pride  and  sadness,  and  his  whole  charac- 
ter had  gained  in  firmness.  He  went 
directly  to  his  mother,  who  had  not  once 
paused  in  her  cry  of,  "  Henry,  Henry, 
come  back  !  Henry,  I  will  give  you  my 
ornaments  :  come  back  !  " 

She  appeared  not  to  have  noticed  Ro- 
land's absence,  and  showed  no  surprise  now 
at  seeing  him.    She  only  said,  — 

"  Your  father  will  soon  come  back  :  he  is 
only  gone  for  a  vessel,  a  great  vessel ;  he 
sits  at  the  helm,  he  guides  "  — 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  Roland  was 
friendly  and  affectionate  to  Fräulein  Perini, 
and  thanked  her  warmly  for  her  fidelity  to 
his  mother. 

Fräulein  Perini  replied,  that  she  was 
sure  the  young  master  would  treat  her 
kindly,  and  not  forget  her  services.  Roland 
hardly  understood  her  meaning. 

He  went  to  Manna,  he  went  to  the  Pro- 
fessorin, and  had  for  every  one  a  word  of 
encouragement.  . 


The  notary  came,  and,  on  being  asked  if 
he  had  received  any  further  news,  answered 
hesitatingly,  and  fell  back  upon  his  power 
of  attorney. 

Roland,  Manna,  Eric,  and  Weidmann 
were  summoned  into  the  great  hall ;  and, 
as  they  entered  the  room  which  his  father 
had  left,  Roland  for  the  first  time  shed 
tears,  and  threw  himself  on  his  sister's  neck. 
But  he  quickly  recovered  his  composure. 

The  lawyer  told  them  that  he  knew  the 
secret  of  opening  the  great  fire-proof  safe 
that  was  built  into  the  wall  on  one  side  of 
the  room.  The  keys  lay  in  the  writing- 
desk,  and  the  mysterious  word  which  the 
letters  must  be  made  to  spell  before  the 
keys  would  turn  the  locks,  was  Manna. 

"  My  name  !  "  cried  Manna,  more  touched 
than  she  could  tell  at.  her  father's  thus 
opening  the  rich  treasures  of  his  wealth  with 
her  name.  To  the  notary's  amazement,  she 
grasped  Eric's  hand. 

A  strange  chill  spread  through  the  room 
as  the  great  safe  was  opened. 

On  the  top  lay  a  little  box  labelled,  "  My 
last  will  and  testament."  They  opened  it. 
A  sealed  paper  lay  in  it  on  which  was  writ- 
ten, "  To  be  opened  immediately  after  my 
death."  These  words,  however,  had  been 
erased,  and  beneath  them  was  written,  "  To 
be  opened  six  months  after  my  disappear- 
ance. 

Every  thing  was  in  perfect  order.  In  dif- 
ferent compartments  lay  the  notes  of  hand, 
state  bonds  of  all  the  countries  in  Europe, 
and  more  still  of  America,  deeds  of  mining 
companies  and  of  various  banking-houses ; 
there  were  papers  of  every  sort  and  color : 
all  the  shades  of  the  rainbow  were  repre- 
sented. 

Roland  and  Manna  hardly  heard  tile 
great  sums  that  were  named.  They  fixed 
their  eyes  with  the  curiosity  of  children  upon 
separate  valuable  documents  as  they  were 
taken  out.    That  is  money  then  — 

Manna  turned  to  Eric,  with  a  timid  en- 
treaty that  he  would  do  and  say  in  her 
place  all  that  was  necessary:  she  felt  her 
head  growing  dizzy. 

Eric  replied,  that  he  hoped  she  would  not 
have  the  affectation  of  those  persons  who 
receive  thoughtlessly  the  burden  of  great 
wealth  without  being  willing  to  learn  their 
own  position  in  the  world. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Manna.  In 
view  of  all  these  great  possessions  she  ad- 
dressed him  for  the  first  time  by  the  famil- 
iar German  "  Thou  "  in  the  presence  of 
others. 

"You  will  soon  learn  to  understand  it. 
We  are  children  of  the  actual  world ;  and, 


502 


THE   COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


if  we  cannot  preserve  our  ideality  in  the 
midst  of  the  actual  world,  we  have  no  ideal- 
ity. We  will  learn  together  to  use  aright 
this  immense  wealth.  This  is  the  first  time, 
too,  that  I  ever  saw  such  a  vast  amount." 

"  It  is  a  great  thought  that  the  whole 
world  is  made  up  of  debtors  and  creditors," 
exclaimed  Roland. 

Still  greater  was  the  amazement  of  the 
children  when  the  lower  drawer  was  opened, 
which,  being  on  casters,  was  easily  drawn 
out  in  spite  of  its  great  weight. 

Here  lay  piles  of  gold  from  the  mint,  and 
gold  in  bars. 

Roland  and  Manna  involuntarily  knelt 
down,  like  little  children,  and  felt  of  it. 
After  the  notary  had  sat  down  to  his  writ- 
ing in  the  adjoining  room,  and  Eric  and 
Weidmann  had  been  called  away,  they  re- 
mained still  upon  the  floor,  gazing  wonder- 
ingly  at  the  gold  and  then  in  one  another's 
faces.  Manna  was  the  first  to  recover  her 
voice. 

"  Afe  we  not  like  the  children  who  lost 
their  way  in  the  wood,  and  stumbled  upon 
hidden  treasure  ?    But"  — 

She  could  not  finish  her  sentence ;  for 
what  she  wanted  to  say  was,  "  an  evil  spirit 
guards  the  gold." 

"  Come,"  said  Roland,  "  lay  your  hand 
here  on  mine  and  on  the  gold.  This  gold 
shall  do  good,  only  good,  and  always  good, 
and  shall  make  amends  for  the  past.  We 
swear  it." 

"  Yes,  we  swear  it,"  repeated  Manna. 
"  Ah  !  if  only  our  father  may  not  have  to  be 
suffering  want  out  in  the  world,  while  we 
here  have  all  things  in  abundance.  Perhaps 
he  is  seeking  a  shelter;  while  these  luxurious 
rooms  are  his  own.  Oh  !  why  do  men  strive 
for  riches,  and  sell  their  own  brothers  ?  O 
God,  why  dost  thou  suffer  it?  Take  all 
that  we  have,  and  drive  the  iniquity  out  of 
the  world." 

The  girl's  tears  fell  upon  the  gleaming 
gold.  Roland  soothed  her,  and  laid  her 
head  on  his  breast ;  and  so  the  two  children 
knelt  in  silence  before  the  glittering  gold. 

"  Now  we  have  had  enough  of  this,"  said 
Roland  at  last.  "  We  must  be  strong :  we 
have  great  duties  before  us." 

Almost  with  an  angry  hand,  he  pushed  in 
the  heavy  drawer  ;  and  as  they  rose  to  their 
feet,  while  the  boy  still  had  hold  of  the  door 
of  the  great  safe  to  shut  it,  the  Major, 
Knopf,  and  the  negro  Adams,  entered. 

For  a  moment,  Roland  and  Manna  stood 
motionless :  then  Roland  ran  up  to  the 
black  man,  embraced  him,  and  exclaimed 
with  a  k>ud  cry,  — 


I  tt  Let  this  make  atonement  to  your  whole 
I  race,  to  all  your  brothers  !    Come,  Manna ; 

give  him  your  hand,  embrace  him  :  we  owe 

it  to  him." 

Manna  approached,  but  with  difficulty 
.  held  out  her  hand  to  him ;  she  trembled  as 
she  did  it. 

Adams  held  her  hand  long  and  firmly  ; 
and  a  shiver,  a  shudder,  which  made  her 
blood  stand  still,  shot  through  her  whole 
frame. 

With  a  great  effort  she  controlled  her- 
self, and  said  in  English,  she  hardly  knew 
why,  — 

"  We  welcome  you  as  a  brother." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Roland,  "  you  shall  counsel 
us,  you  shall  help  us,  we  will  do  every  thing 
through  you." 

Manna  whispered  to  Roland  that  they 
would  give  Adams  at  once  a  handsome  sum 
of  money ;  but  Roland  explained,  that,  al- 
though they  must  undoubtedly  provide  gen- 
erously for  Adams,  it  would  be  better  first 
to  find  out  if  he  understood  the  proper  use 
of  money. 

Manna  looked  at  her  brother  in  wonder. 

The  notary  now  came  from  the  adjoining 
room.  Eric  and  Weidmann  returned,  and 
signed  a  receipt  for  the  whole  amount. 

Eric  now  learned  for  the  first  time  that 
Roland  had  insisted  on  Adams  being 
brought.  Knopf  said  in  an  aside  to  Eric, 
that  he  might  be  proud  of  the  boy :  there 
was  great  strength  of  character  in  him.  He 
had  repeatedly  said  that  he  must  show  he 
felt  no  hatred  towards  the  innocent  cause 
of  this  great  calamity,  and  that,  instead  of 
persecuting  the  negro,  he  was  bound  to  show 
him  kindness.  • 

Weidmann  urged  Adams's  immediate 
departure  from  the  Villa,  fearing  the  effect 
that  a  chance  meeting  with  him  might  have 
upon  Frau  Ceres,  associated  as  his  appear- 
ance would  be  with  recollections  of  her 
home.  He  advised  the  man's  going  with 
him  to  Mattenheim :  but  Roland  begged 
that  Adams  might  be  allowed  to  remain  till 
he  himself  went  back  to  Mattenheim ;  and 
the  Major  joyfully  agreed  to  take  him  home 
with  him. 

Eric  was  incensed  that  Knopf  should 
have  brought  Adams  at  all ;  but  Knopf  told 
how  he  had  met  the  negro  on  the  way  to 
the  Villa,  and,  with  an  air  of  triumph,  went 
on  to  tell  what  a  model  of  knavery  the  fel- 
low was.  He  had  devised  a  plan  for  going 
to  Sonnenkamp,  openly  expressing  repent- 
ance for  his  deed,  and  offering  to  appear 
as  a  false  witness,  on  condition  of  being 
handsomely  paid  for  it.    He  was  beside 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


503 


himself,  therefore,  when  he  learned  that 
Sonnenkanip  had  fled,  and  his  false  testi- 
mony was  of  no  value. 

An  important  consultation  took  place  in 
Sonneukamp's  room,  upon  the  subject  of  a 
new  enterprise  which  Weidmann  had  in  con- 
templation. He  was  about  to  purchase  a 
large  estate  three  leagues  from  Mattenheim, 
in  the  direction  of  the  mountains,  and  asked 
Roland  and  Eric  if  they  would  not  invest  a 
considerable  sum  in  the  land.  He  wanted 
to  make  the  attempt  to  settle  a  new  village 
there,  in  combination  with  an  old  design  of 
his,  of  attracting  artisans  by  establishing 
them  on  small  pieces  of  land  of  their  own. 

Eric  questioned  whether  they  would  have 
a  right  to  use  this  money  in  a  foreign  land 
for  the  benefit  of  foreigners ;  and,  besides, 
at  present  they  were  only  stewards  of  the 
property. 

Weidmann  praised  his  caution,  but  con- 
vinced him  that  this  was  a  safe  investment, 
and  one  that  would  be  of  benefit  to  many. 
He  promised  not  to  act  alone,  but  to  take 
the  advice  of  the  Banker  in  the  matter. 
Security  should  be  given  that  the  amount 
of  capital  invested  should  be  set  free  again 
in  a  certain  number  of  years. 

That  evening,  Weidmann  departed  for 
Mattenheim  with  a  great  chest  of  gold. 

Eric  was  to  bring  the  papers  to  the  city, 
and  then  deliver  them  into  the  Banker's 
keeping. 

CHAPTER  HI. 
A  SON  OF  HAM. 

On  no  one  of  the  persons  interested  in 
Villa  Eden,  had  the  startling  events  that 
had  taken  place  produced  a  greater  impres- 
sion than  on  the  Major.  He  could  find  no 
rest  at  home,  and,  since  hearing  Sonnen- 
kamp's  statement,  he  had  lost  the  best  pos- 
session he  had,  —  his  sound,  healthful  sleep. 
He  wandered  about  restlessly  all  day,  often 
talking  with  Laadi,  throwing  the  dog  some- 
times a  mushroom  fried  in  fat,  and  then 
punishing  her  severely  when  she  tried  to 
eat  it.  At  night,  his  inward  excitement  was 
so  great,  that  he  kept  talking  in  a  low  voice 
to  himself,  and  occasionally  even  roused 
Fräulein  Milch  in  the  hope  that  she  would 
dispel  the  disturbing  thoughts.  Sonnen- 
kamp's  flight,  and  now  the  news  that  Bella 
had  gone  with  him,  increased  the  distemper 
of  his  mind. 

He  summoned  all  his  strength  when 
Knopf  brought  in  the  negro,  received  him 
most  cordially,  and  insisted  upon  his  staying 
in  his  house  first.    Adams  consented  ;  'and 


the  Major  took  him  at  once  to  the  castle, 
where  the  work  was  still  going  on. 

Fräulein  Milch  confessed  to  Herr  Knopf 
that  she  was  oppressed  by  a  fear  she  could 
not  control,  and  begged  him  to  stay  with 
them ;  but  he  regretted  that  his  duties  to 
Prince  Valerian  made  his  stay  impossible. 
So  far  from  allaying  Fräulein  Milch's  anxi- 
eties, he  rather  increased  them  by  the  sat- 
isfaction with  which  he  dwelt  upon  the  con- 
summate knavery  of  this  Adams. 

"  I  take  delight,"  he  repeated,  "  in  ob- 
serving what  a  savage  the  fellow  is.  A 
savage  nature  is  not  soft,  not  good-natured, 
but  sly  as  a  tiger-cat.  After  all,  how  can 
you  expect  a  slave  to  be  a  model  of  virtue, 
and  an  example  of  all  that  is  good  ?  " 

The  good-natured,  soft-hearted  Knopf 
took  a  real  pleasure  in  knowing  consum- 
mate rascals  like  Sonnenkamp  and  Adams. 
When  he  had  discovered  evil  in  a  man,  he 
carried  it  to  extremes  at  once,  like  all 
idealists  :  the  man  must  instantly  be  a  con- 
summate villain.  The  royal  descent  that 
Adams  boasted  of,  was,  according  to  him, 
nothing  but  a  lie  :  he  was  usurping  the 
character  of  some  man  of  princely  blood 
who  had  been  drowned.  "  For,"  added 
Knopf,  with  great  satisfaction,  "  he  could 
not  have  taken  the  stamped  sailing  papers 
from  him  before  he  was  -launched  on  the 
sea  of  eternity." 

He  declared  to  Fräulein  Milch  that  he 
had  caught  Adams  in  the  lie ;  for  the  man 
had  made  a  mistake  in  the  dates :  and 
Knopf  was  not  a  teacher  of  history,  with 
all  the  dates  at  his  tongue's  end,  for  noth- 
ing. 

On  the  Major's  return  with  Adams,  his 
disease  fairly  broke  out,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  take  to  his  bed. 

The  Doctor  came,  and  administered  sooth- 
ing remedies,  which  relieved  the  Major  ;  but 
he  had  no  soothing  remedies  for  Fräulein 
Milch.  She  was  to  receive  these  from  a 
man  who  had  no  knowledge  of  medicine. 
When  the  Professorin  could  not  be  with 
Fräulein  Milch  to  relieve  her  loneliness, 
and  keep  up  her  courage,  she  sent  Pro- 
fessor Einsiedel ;  and  to  him  the  poor  wo- 
man confided  all  her  uneasiness  with  re- 
gard to  Adams.  The  man  would  engage 
in  no  occupation  ;  he  could  drink  and  smoke 
all  day ;  but  that  was  all.  He  had  worked 
only  while  he  was  a  slave,  and  driven  to  it ; 
and  as  lackey  he  had  had  nothing  to  do 
but  to  sit  in  fantastic  livery  upon  the  box 
of  the  royal  coach.  So  there  he  remained 
in  the  house  Avith  Fräulein  Milch,  doing 
nothing  but  inspire  her  with  an  unconquer- 
able terror.    The  greater  her  fear  became, 


504 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


the  more  pains  she  took  to  preserve  a 
friendly  manner  towards  him. 

Only  to  Professor  Einsiedel  did  she  com- 
plain of  the  presence  of  the  negro. 

"  I  must  take  care,"  she  said,  0  not  to 
let  this  one  black  man  give  me  a  prejudice 
against  the  whole  race." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

Fräulein  Milch  blushed  as  she  replied,  — 

"  If  we  do  not  know  a  foreign  nation,  or 
a  foreign  race,  and  our  preconceived  no- 
tions of  it  are  unfavorable,  we  are  very  apt 
to  consider  the  solitary  individual  who  may 
come  under  our  observation  as  a  representa- 
tive of  the  whole,  and  to  charge  upon  the 
whole  his  peculiar  characteristics  and  faults. 
This  Adams,  now,  is  a  man  who  will  nei- 
ther learn  nor  labor.  As  a  slave,  he  was 
used  to  being  taken  care  of,  and  as  a 
lackey  the  same  :  it  would  be  very  unjust 
to  let  him  prejudice  me  against  the  whole 
race,  and  to  conclude  that  all  negroes  have 
these  peculiarities." 

"  Very  good,  very  reasonable,"  was  the 
Professor's  verdict.  "  But  I  should  like  to 
know  how  you  come  to  be  so  carefully  on 
your  guard  against  prejudices.  I  know 
very  little  about  women,  to  be  sure ;  but  I 
had  supposed  this  quality  was  not  common 
among  them." 

Fraulein  Milch  bit  her  lip.  This  ac- 
knowledgment of  the  claim  of  every  indi- 
vidual to  be  judged  by  his  own  merits  had 
had  a  peculiar  origin  in  herself ;  but  she 
could  not  tell  it.  She  felt  the  Professor's 
keen  glance  fixed  upon  her  face,  and  fan- 
cied he  must  have  discovered  her  secret. 
She  waited,  expecting  to  hear  it  from  his 
lips,  but  he  was  silent :  after  a  pause,  she 
continued,  — i 

"  Do  you  not  think  with  me  that  the 
blacks  will  never  be  free  until  they  free 
themselves,  until  a  Moses  appears  from 
among  their  own  number,  and  leads  them 
out  of  bondage  ?  And  do  you  not  think, 
also,  that  this  generation  which  has  been 
in  bondage  must  perish  in  the  wilderness, 
and  that  the  new  generation,  that  has 
grown  up  in  freedom,  will  be  the  one  to 
enter  the  promised  land  of  freedom  ?  " 

"  You  seem  very  familiar  with  the  Old 
Testament,  "  said  the  Professor. 

Fräulein  Milch  colored  up  to  the  border 
of  her  white  cap. 

"  But  you  have  the  right  idea,"  contin- 
ued Professor  Einsiedel.  "  I  hope  you  un- 
derstand me.  The  black  race  has  devel- 
oped nothing  original :  as  far  as  we  can  yet 
see,  it  contributes  nothing  to  the  intellectual 
possessions  of  the  human  family.  Certainly 
no  outsider  can  free  them ;  but  our  new 


age,  the  only  redeemer  which  we  acknowl- 
edge', culture,  will  reach  and  deliver  them. 
Are  you  acquainted  with  the  recent  inves- 
tigations into  the  Japhetic  races  ?  " 
"Alas!  no." 

"  Certainly ;  I  forgot  myself.  But  you 
must  know  that  the  sons  of  Ham,  this,  of 
course,  you  have  learned  from  the  Bible, 
are  without  a  history  :  they  bring  nothing 
of  their  own  conquest,  acquisition,  creation, 
into  the  great  Pantheon.  It  is  the  Semitic, 
Japhetic  races  that  must  free  the  descend- 
ants of  Ham. 

The  Professor  was  about  to  lay  before 
Fräulein  Milch  the  result  of  the  latest  in- 
vestigations ;  to  tell  her  what  extraordi- 
nary discoveries  had  been  made  among  the 
Egyptian  papyri ;  how  it  was  proved  that 
the  author  or  the  compiler  of  the  Bible  had 
not  understood  Egyptian  ;  in  fact,  that  the 
contents  of  the  Bible  had  existed  ♦betöre  in 
Egyptian  writings,  and  the  deliverance  of 
the  slaves  was  the  only  one  great  act  of 
the  mythical  Moses  in  the  whole  ancient 
world.  In  his  delight  at  finding  so  good  a 
listener,  he  was  about  to  deliver  himself  at 
great  length/when  Claus  came  in,  having 
been  sent  by  the  Doctor  to  take  Adams 
home  with  him.  Fräulein  Milch  whis- 
pered in  his  ear  that  he  would  have  diffi- 
culty in  making  Adams  work,  at  which  he 
cried  with  a  smile,  — 

"  Yes,  yes  :  slaves  and  rich  men  are  alike 
in  that.  The  slave  does  nothing  because 
his  master  feeds  him,  and  the  rich  man 
does  nothing  because  his  money  feeds  him." 

Fräulein  Milch  impressed  upon  Claus  that 
he  must  treat  the  black  man  kindly,  and 
remember  that  he  did  not  represent  the 
black  race.  The  field-guard  laughed  heart- 
ily, and  carried  Adams  off  to  his  house. 

The  dogs  barked  fiercely,  and  the  women 
screamed  in  terror,  when  the  negro  ap- 
peared. The  screams  soon  ceased ;  but, 
whenever  Adams  went  out  of  the  house,  the 
dogs  set  up  a  fresh  chorus  of  barks. 


chapter  iv. 

Bella's  legacy. 

When"  the  Doctor  came  with  the  Profes- 
sorin, he  was  highly  rejoiced  that  Adams  had 
i  left  the  house,  and  still  more  that  the  Major 
was  able  to  sit  up  in  bed,  and  smoke  his 
long  pipe.  After  enjoining  upon  him  great 
quiet,  he  went  with  the  two  women  into  the 
sitting-room,  and  there  informed  them  that 
he  had  reason  to  be  proud ;  for  Bella  had 
written  to  him  from  Antwerp,  and  to  no  one 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


505 


else.  He  read  the  letter  to  them  which 
was  as  follows,  — 

"You  alone  are  no  puppet;  you  never 
made  a  pretence  of  friendship  for  me,  and 
therefore  you  shall  have  a  keepsake.  I 
give  you  my  parrot.  The  parrot  is  the 
masterpiece  of  creation  :  he  says  nothing 
but  what  he  is  taught.    Adieu  ! 

«  Bella." 

The  ladies  exchanged  glances  of  surprise ; 
and  Fräulein  Milch  rejoiced  the  Doctor  by 
saying,  for  once  in  her  life,  an  unkind  word  ; 
for  she  could  not  help  expressing  pleasure 
that  Frau  Bella  had  come  to  such  an  end. 
The  Doctor,  on  the  other  hand,  said,  in  a 
tone  of  complaint,  — 

"  I  feel  a  want  now  that  she  is  gone.  I 
miss  in  her  a  sort  of  barometer  of  thought 
and  an  interesting  object  of  study.  Strange  ! 
now  that  this  woman  is  gone  we  see,  for 
the  first  time,  how  widely  her  influence  was 
extended,  —  more  widely  perhaps  than  was 
her  due.  But  still  the  story  pleases  me,  as 
a  proof  that  there  still  exist  persons  of 
courage  and  strong  will." 

"  You  like  eccentricity,"  suggested  the 
Professorin. 

"  Oh,  no!  What  seems  eccentric  to 
others  appears  to  me  the  only  natural  and 
consistent  cfeurse.  Bella  could  not  have 
acted  otherwise  than  she  has :  this  very 
step  was  a  part  of  her  heroism.  Your  son 
can  tell  you  that  I  suspected  something  of 
this  sort  before  it  happened.  There  is 
much  in  common  between  Bella  and  Son- 
nenkamp. Both  are  quick  and  *  clear  in 
judgment  where  others  are  concerned ;  but, 
when  self  is  touched,  they  are  tyrannical, 
malicious,  and  self-asserting.  And,  now 
that  she  is  fairly  gone,  I  may  say  that  she 
has  fled  a  murderess :  to  be  sure,  she  did 
not  kill  Clodwig  with  poison  or  dagger,  but 
she  smote  him  to  the  heart  with  killing 
words  and  thoughts.  He  confessed  to  me 
that  it  was  so,  and  now  I  may  repeat  it." 

"  I  am  confounded,"  said  the  Professorin. 
"  With  all  her  culture,  how  were  such  things 
possible  ?  " 

"  That  was  just  it,"  broke  in  the  Doctor 
delighted.  "  All  this  intellectual  life  Was 
nothing  to  Frau  Bella  :  she  found  herself  in 
it,  she  knew  not  how.  She  had  to  destroy 
something,  or  what  would  she  have  done 
with  all  this  culture  ?  Formerly  there  was 
hypocrisy  only  in  religion  ;  now  there  is 
hypocrisy  in  education.  But,  no :  Frau 
Bella  was  no  hypocrite,  neither  was  she 
really  ill-natured ;  she  was  simply  crude." 

"  Crude  ?  " 


"Yes.  Thought  of  others  educates  at 
once  the  heart  and  the  mind  ;  Frau  Bella 
thought  only  and  always  of  herself,  of  what 
she  had  to  say  and  to  feel." 

"  Do  you  think,"  asked  the  Professorin 
with  some  hesitation,  "  that  these  two  per- 
sons can  be  happy  together  for  a  single 
hour?" 

"  Certainly  not,  according  to  our  ideas  of 
happiness.  They  have  no  real  affection  for 
each  other  :  pride  and  disappointment,  and 
a  desire  to  shock  the  world,  have  induced 
them  to  make  their  escape  together.  There 
is  one  other  motive  which  persons  like  us 
cannot  enter  into.  I  tried  for  a  long  time 
to  discover  it,  and  believe  at  last  that  I 
have  succeeded  :  it  is  the  conciousness  of 
beauty.  I  am  a  beauty :  that  is  a  principle 
on  which  a  whole  system  is  founded.  Other 
people  are  only  made  for  the  purpose  of 
seeing  and  admiring  the  beauty.  Bella 
committed  an  act  of  treason  against  her- 
self when  she  married  Clodwig  :  she  could 
not  have  done  it  except  in  a  moment  of  for- 
getfulness  of  this  great  principle.  But  how 
can  we  judge  such  people  aright  ?  The 
longer  I  live,  the  more  clearly  I  see  that 
human  beings  are  not  alike: -they  are  of 
different  species." 

"  You  want  to  provoke  us  by  heresies." 

"  By  no  means :  that  is  the  reason  why 
this  anti-slavery  fever  is  distasteful  to  me. 
This  claiming  equality  for  all  men  is  a 
wrong." 

"  A  wrong  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Men  are  not  all  the  same  kind 
of  beings  ;  one  is  a  nightingale  that  sings 
on  a  tree  ;  another  is  a  frog  that  croaks  in 
the  marsh.  Now,  to  require  of  the  frog  that 
he  should  sing  up  in  a  tree  is  a  wrong,  a 
perversion  of  Nature.  Let  the  frog  alone 
in  his  marsh,  he  is  very  well  off  there,  and 
to  him  and  his  wife  his  song  sounds  as 
sweet  as  that  of  the  bird  to  his  mate.  Men 
are  of  different  kinds." 

The  Major  called  from  his  room  to  know 
what  the  Doctor  was  talking  so  loudly  and 
excitedly  about.  Fräulein  Milch  soothed 
him  by  telling  him  it  was  nothing  for  a  sick 
man  to  hear,  though  she  confessed  that  they 
had  been  talking  of  Bella.  As  she  re-en- 
tered the  sitting-room,  a  messenger  arrived 
from  Villa  Eden  with  intelligence  which 
summoned  the  Doctor  and  the  Professorin 
thither  instantly :  Frau  Ceres  was  danger- 
ously ill. 

The  Doctor  and  the  Professorin  made  all 
haste  back  to  the  Villa. 


506 


THE  COÜNTRY-HOU 


SE   ON    THE  RHINE. 


CHAPTER  V. 
THE  BLACK  HORROR. 

"  Henry,  come  !  Henry,  come  back  !  these 
are  your  trees,  and  your  house.  Come  back  ! 
I  will  dance  with  you.    Henry,  Henry  !  " 

Such  was  Frau  Ceres'  incessant  cry. 

She  refused  all  nourishment ;  she  insisted 
on  waiting  till  her  husband  said  "  Dear  child, 
do  take  something."  Only  after  the  most 
urgent  entreaties  of  Fräulein  Perini,  did  she 
at  last  consent  to  eat  something.  She  wanted 
to  embroider,  and  took  up  her  work ;  but  the 
next  moment  she  laid  it  down  again. 

Weeping  and  lamenting,  she  went  through 
the  gardens  and  greenhouses. 

Fräulein  Perini  had  the  greatest  difficulty 
in  soothing  her. 

Then  Frau  Ceres  reprimanded  the  garden- 
er for  raking  over  the  paths.  The  marks  of 
her  husband's  feet  were  in  the  gravel,  and 
they  must  not  be  removed,  or  he  would  die. 

At  other  times,  she  would  sit  at  the  window 
for  hours  together,  looking  out  upon  the 
hills  and  the  clouds,  and  the  river  where  the 
boats  were  sailing  up  and  down;  and  all 
the  while  she  would  be  grieving  in  a  low 
voice  to  herself,  — - 

"  Henry,  I  grieved  you  sorely,  I  wounded 
you :  you  may  whip  me  as  you  would  your 
slaves ;  only  let  me  be  with  you,  forgive  me. 
Do  you  remember  that  day  when  you  came 
out  to  me,  and  Caasar  played  the  harp,  and 
I  danced  in  my  blue  frock  and  my  gold- 
colored  shoes  ?  Do  you  remember  ?  — 
"  Manna,"  she  suddenly  cried ;  "  Manna, 
bring  your  harp  and  play  for  me.  I  want 
to  dance ;  I  am  still  pretty.    Come,  Henry  !  " 

Suddenly  she  turned  to  Fräulein  Perini,' 
and  asked,  "  He  is  coming  back,  is  he 
not  ?  "  Her  tone  was  so  quiet  and  natural 
as  for  the  moment  to  re-assure  them. 

"  Tell  him  he  shall  marry  Frau  Bella  when 
I  die,"  she  suddenly  began  again,  her  great 
eyes  gazing  vacantly  before  her.  "  Frau 
Bella  is  a  handsome  widow,  very  handsome  ; 
and  he  shall  give  her  my  ornaments,  they 
will  look  so  well  on  her." 

"  Pray,  do  not  speak  so." 

"  Come,  we  must  see  that  his  heaths  are 
well  taken  care  of.  He  taught  me  all  about 
them.  We  will  have  some  good  bog-earth 
dried  and  pounded  and  sifted.  Then,  when 
he  comes  home,  he  will  say,  'That  was  very 
clever  of  you,  Ceres  :  you  did  that  well." 

She  went  with  Fräulein  Perini  to  the,  hot- 
house, and  gave  intelligent  directions  to  the 
head  gardener  that  he  should  be  careful  to 
keep  the  heaths  very  moist,  and  not  in  too 
high  a  temperature. 


Fräulein  Perini  sent  one  of  the  boys  who 
was  working  in  the  garden  to  fetch  Eric. 
Her  anxiety  was  so  great,  she  could  not 
bear  to  be  left  longer  alone  with  Frau 
Ceres. 

Frau  Ceres  appeared  very  composed. 
After  examining  all  the  heaths,  and  lifting 
each  one  up  to  see  that  the  saucers  were 
kept  properly  damp,  she  left  the  hot-house, 
saying  as  she  went, — 

"It  is  quite  time  that  Captain  Dournay 
should  learn  the  care  of  plants.  These 
scholars  fancy  there  is  nothing  they  can 
learn  from  us :  I  can  assure  them  they  can 
learn  a  great  deal  from  my  husband.  There 
are  more  than  two  hundred  heaths  at  the 
Cape.  Yes,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it ; 
he  told  me  so.  Now  let  us  go  back  into 
the  house." 

On  their  way,  they  came  to  an  open  space, 
where  was  a  pond,  and  a  little  fountain 
playing. 

Suddenly  Frau  Ceres  uttered  a  piercing 
cry.  Down  the  broad  path  towards  them 
came  the  black  man  Adams,  with  Roland 
on  one  arm,  and  Manna  on  the  other. 

"  You  are  changed  into  a  negro  !  Who 
did  that  to  you  ?  Henry  !  Fie,  Henry  ! 
Take  off  the  black  skin  !  "  With  piercing 
cries,  she  threw  herself  upon  tAdams,  and 
tore  the  clothes  from  his  body;  then  sank 
lifeless  on  the  ground  before  him.  They 
were  just  bearing  her  into  the  house,  when 
Doctor  Richard  and  the  Professorin  ar- 
rived. 

Frau  Ceres  never  woke. 

Her  body  was  laid  in  the  great  music 
room ;  and  the  flowers  that  Sonnenkamp 
had  so  tenderly  cared  for  were  set  about 
his  wife's  corpse.  Here  in  the  music  room, 
where  the  young  people  had  so  often  sung 
and  danced  —  would  there  ever  be  dancing 
and  music  here  again  ? 

The  friends  came,  and  kissed  and  em- 
braced Roland ;  Lina  also  appeared,  and 
embraced  Manna  in  silence.  By  a  pressure 
of  the  hand,  a  silent  embrace,  each  one  ex- 
pressed to  the  mourners  his  sympathy,  his 
desire  to  help  them. 

Pranken  appeared  also  among  the  mourn- 
ers, and,  with  Fräulein  Perini,  knelt  beside 
the  body. 

After  a  blessing  had  been  pronounced  in 
the  church,  the  funeral-train  moved  towards 
the  burial-ground. 

The  members  of  the  music-club  had  been 
gathered  together  by  Knopf  and  Fassbender, 
and  sang  at  the  open  grave.  Roland  stood 
leaning  on  Eric,  while  the  Mother  and  aunt 
Claudine  supported  Manna. 

Erics  thoughts  reverted  to  that  day  in 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


507 


spring  when  he  had  sat  over  his  wine  with 
Pranken,  and  had  looked  out  at  the  church- 
yard where  the  nightingale  was  singing. 
Who  could  have  foretold  then  that  he 
would  be  standing  here  a  mourner  at  the 
grave  of  the  mother  of  his  betrothed,  and 
of  his  pupil? 

The  music  •  ceased,  and  the  Priest  ad- 
vanced to  the  edge  of  the  grave.  There 
was  a  hush  for  a  while  over  the  whole 
assembly.  The  chattering  of  the  magpies, 
and  the  screaming  of  the  nut-peckers,  was 
heard  in  the  trees. 

After  repeating  a  prayer  in  a  low  tone, 
the  Priest  raised  his  voice,  and  cried,  — 

"  Thou  poor  rich  child  from  the  New 
"World !  Now  thou  art  in  the  new  world 
indeed.  Thou  hast  gone  hence  with  thy  sins 
unforgiven,  in  delusion,  in  frenzy..  Thou 
hast  left  thy  children  behind  to  atone,  to 
suffer,  to  sacrifice,  for  thee.  They  will  do 
it :  they  must  do  it.  Children,  God  is 
your  father;  the  church  is  your  mother. 
Hearken  unto  me.  Here  we  stand  beside 
an  open  grave.  Ye  can  live  without  us, 
without  the  church ;  but,  when  ye  come  to 
die,  ye  must  call  upon  us :  and,  though  ye 
have  scorned  us,  we  shall  comfe  full  of  grace 
and  compassion  ;  for  God  so  commandeth 
us.  O  thou  departed  one !  now  thou  art 
ennobled ;  for  dearth  gives  nobility  :  thou  art 
decked  with  ornaments  fairer  than  thy  dia- 
monds ;  for,  with  all  thy  worldliness,  thou 
didst  have  a  believing  spirit.  Grief  set  her 
crown  of  thorns  upon  thee  :  thou  hast  suf- 
fered much,  and  theu  wilt  be  forgiven. 
But  I  call  upon  ye  who  stand  here  this 
day  alive :  Ye  can  build  country  houses, 
and  furnish  them  sumptuously ;  but  the 
prince  of  all  life,  which  is  death,  shall  come 
and  mow  you  down,  and  ye  shall  moulder 
in  the  ground.  A  house  of  boards,  that  is 
the  country  house  which  is  decreed  to  every 
one,  deep  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  But 
woe  to  those  men  whose  holy  ark  is  the 
fire-proof  safe  !  The  men  of  so-called  phi- 
losophy and  natural  science  come  and  flat- 
ter the  believers  in  the  fire-proof  safe,  and 
when  the  bolt  from  heaven  falls,  they  say, 
'  There  is  a  lighten ing-rod  on  our  house,  we 
have  nothing  to  fear.'  And  if  death  comes, 
what  say  ye  then  ?  Ye  have  no  answer. 
O  ye  poor,  rich  children  !  Turn  unto  us  ! 
The  arms  of  mercy  are  open  to  receive  you  ; 
they  alone  can  defend  you.  To  that  rich 
young  man  the  answer  was  :  —  I  speak  not 
of  how  the  wealth  was  won  from  which  the 
young  soul  will  not  part ;  I  only  call  —  no,  it 
is  not  I  who  call  —  my  passing  breath  but 
bears  the  eternal  word.  Leave  all  that 
thou  hast  and  follow  me.    Wilt  thou  too, 


go  hence  weeping,  because  thou  canst  not 
give  up  the  riches  of  the  world  ?  Oh  !  I 
call  thee  —  no,  He  who  has  brought  this  day 
upon  us,  who  looks  down  from  the  height 
of  heaven  into  this  grave — He  calls  to 
thee :  Bend  asunder  the  bonds  of  slavery ! 
Thou  art  thyself  a  slave  :  be  free  !  And 
thou,  noble  maiden,  who  hast  the  highest 
in  thyself,  look  down  into  this  grave,  and 
forward  to  the  time  when  such  a  grave 
shall  open  for  thee.  Save  thyself!  De- 
spise not  the  hand  that  will  save  thee. 
Days  of  sorrow,  nights  of  desolation  will 
come  upon  thee.  In  the  day  thou  wilt  ask, 
'  Where  am  I  ?  "  and  for  what  is  my  life  on 
the  earth  ?  And  thou  wilt  send  forth 
thy  voice  weeping  into  the  night,  and  wilt 
shudder  at  the  night  of  death.  ?  Thou  know- 
est  what  is  salvation  ;  thou  bearest  it  in  thy- 
self. '  And  now  ?  Faithless  —  thrice  faith- 
less !  Faithless  to  thyself,  to  thy  friends, 
to  thy  God  !  " 

Beating  himself  upon  the  breast,  he  cried 
in  a  voice  broken  by  tears,  — 

"  How  willingly,  how  joyfully  would  I  die, 
I  who  am  speaking  to  ye  now,  if  I  could 
say,  I  have  saved  them.  And  yet,  not  I, 
but  the  Spirit  through  the  breath  of  my 
mouth.  Come,  leave  all  that  holds  ye  back, 
all  on  which  ye  lean  —  come  to  me,  ye 
children  of  sorrow ;  to  me,  ye  children  of 
misery,  of  pain,  of  riches,  and  of  helpless 
poverty  !  " 

There  was  a  pause  in  which  no  one 
stirred,  and  the  Priest  resumed,  — 

"  I  have  spoken,  I  have  warned,  I  have 
called  as  I  was  forced  to,  and  because  I 
was  forced.  I  appeal  to  thee  whose  mor- 
tal frame  we  are  here  consigning  to  the 
earth,  speak  to  thy  children,  '  Children,  the 
three  handfuls  of  earth  which  you  were 
to  throw  upon  my  grave,  ye  shall  throw 
them  when  this  hand  resigns  what  is  called 
the  riches  of  this  world,  but  which  is  noth- 
ing but  the  ransom  of  a  lost  soul.'  If  ye  do 
it  not,  we  shall  still  pray  for  ye  who  are 
dead  in  the  living  body,  as  we  do  for  thee 
whose  dead  body  we  are  sinking  into  the 
grave,  but  whose  soul  is  risen  into  eternity. 
Grant  that  thy  children  may  receive  eter- 
nal life,  only  the  life  eternal !  "  — 

The  Priest's  whole  body  trembled,  and 
Roland  trembled  as  he  stood  by  Eric. 
Weidmann  approached  the  boy  on  the  other 
side,  and,  laying  his  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Be  calm." 

The  grave  was  filled  up  with  earth :  the 
Priest  hurried  from  the  church-yard  and 
Pranken  with  him  :  the  mourners  took  their 
way  back  to  the  Villa. 

"  Who  would  have  believed  that  the  Priest 


508 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


would  dare  to  speak  so  at  the  grave  ?  But 
it  is  well.  What  more  can  come  ?  Is  not 
all  accomplished  now  ?  It  is  best  that  she 
should  have  died  when  she  did.  The  poor 
rich  children !  " 

"  What  will  the  children  do  now  ?  " 

Such  were  the  words  that  might  have 
been  heard  on  all  sides,  as  the  people  dis- 
persed after  the  burial  of  Frau  Ceres. 

The  children  returned  from  their  moth- 
er's grave  to  the  Villa. 

Roland  was  the  first  to  recover  his  self- 
command. 

"  I  will  not  let  myself  be  broken  down," 
he  cried.  "  The  black  horror  shall  not 
frighten  me.  Give  me  something  to  do,  Eric. 
Herr  Weidmann,  now  for  the  first  time,  I 
am  yours :  I  will  work,  and  not  let  myself 
give  way.'* 

Manna,  too,  began  to  be  herself  again. 

Their  mother's  death,  and  the  painful 
scene  at  her  grave,  had  given  added"  firm- 
ness to  the  character  of  both. 

The  day  after  the  funeral,  Roland  was  first 
applied  to  upon  a  question  of  money : 
Fräulein  Perini  asked  for  her.  discharge. 
With  the  approval  of  Eric  and  Weidmann, 
she  was  abundantly  provided  for,  besides 
receiving  Frau  Ceres'  entire  wardrobe.  She 
packed  the  clothes  in  great  trunks,  and  had 
them  taken  to  the  parsonage  ;  but  she  her- 
self soon  departed  for  Italy,  where  she  joined 
the  young  widow,  the  daughter  of  Herr 
von  Endlich. 

Villa  Eden  stood  now  entirely  at  the  dis- 
posal of  Eric  and  Roland. 

Once  more,  the  Professorin  became  the 
one  point  of  attraction;  and  all  assembled 
in  her  cottage.  She  had  now  a  good  helper 
in  Professor  Einsiedel,  who  had  obtained 
leave  of  absence,  and  promised  to  spend  the 
winter  at  the  Villa. 

After  the  shocks  that  Roland  and  Manna 
had  experienced,  their  mourning  for  their 
mother  was  almost  a  relief.  That  her 
death  should  have  been  caused  as  it  was  by 
terror  at  the  sight  of  Adams,  by  a  diseased 
imagination,  and  that  the  Priest  at  the 
grave  had  made  his  last,  desperate  attempt 
upon  them,  —  these  things  were  almost  a 
comfort  to  them.  Roland  gratefully  clasped 
his  sister's  hand  as  she  said,  — 

"  Let  us  not  have  any  feeling  of  hatred 
or  bitterness  towards  the  negro  for  having 
been  the  innocent  cause  of  our  mother's 
death." 

"  If  there  were  only  something  else  in 
prospect  for  you,  if  you  could  only  find  such 
an  active  interest  as  I  have  at  Mattenheim," 
said  Roland,  in  whose  mind  the  idea  be- 
came uppermost,  that  he  must  return  to 


1  Mattenheim.  But  with  a  sad  smile,  like  a 
J  sunbeam  breaking  through  heavy  clouds,  he 
:  soon  added,  — 

"  I  forgot :  there  is  something  else  for 
you,  and  something  so  beautiful !    You  will 
be  Eric's  wife." 
Manna  was  silent. 

"  What  are  you  reading  so  earnestly  ?  " 
she  asked  Roland  one  day,  after  he  had  been 
sitting  for  hours  without  looking  up  from 
his  book.  He  showed  her  what  it  was,  a 
book  treating  of  forests.  That  subject  was 
the  only  one  which  now  fascinated  him,  he 
told  her ;  and,  as  she  spoke,  it  seemed  al- 
most as  if  it  must  be  Eric  talking,  so  entire- 
ly had  the  boy  entered  into  the  spirit  of  his 
teacher. 

He  felt  refreshed  by  the  study  of  this 
perpetual  and  permanent  growth,  and  the 
voluntary  protection  of  it  by  men.  With  a 
real  enthusiasm  he  added,  — 

"  I  could  not  be  interested  in  raising 
•flowers,  as  my  father  was  ;  but  I  get  from  him 
the  love  with  which  I  can  devote  myself  to 
the  trees  and  woods. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  VOLUNTEER. 

In  accordance  with  a  wish  of  Weid- 
mann's,  Eric  accompanied  Roland  and 
Joseph  to  the  city,  in  order  to  deposit  the 
valuable  papers  in  a  place  of  safety. 

The  first  house  they  visited  on  arriving 
in  the  city  was  the  Banker's,  which,  situ- 
ated in  a  garden  outside  the  gates,  Com- 
bined the  repose  of  the  country  with  the 
animation  of  the  city.  The  business  life 
of  the  owner  was  in  the  heart  of  the  city  : 
here  he  was  his  own  master.  Everywhere 
throughout  the  richly  furnished  house  were 
marks  of  refinement  and  elegance. 

To  Eric's  surprise,  he  found  the  Banker 
in  the  great  library  where  were  several 
beautiful  statues.  The  man,  who,  at  Wolf's- 
garten,  at  the  time  of  Clodwig's  death,  had 
kept  so  modestly  in  the  background,  here 
in  his  domestic  life  presided  over  a  rich 
and  solid  establishment. 

After  a  short  explanation  of  the  object  of 
their  visit,  the  Banker  took  his  guests  to  his 
office.  Here,  in  his  business  activity,  he 
seemed  another  man,  or  rather  two  men. 
He  had,  so  to  speak,  an  office  nature  and  a 
home  nature :  in  his  own  house  friendly, 
amiable,  generous,  and  communicative ;  at 
his  office  chary  of  words,  curt,  decided,  and 
cautious. 

He  declined  receiving  all  these  valuable 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


509 


papers  himself,  but  advised  their  being 
taken  to  the  city  bank  for  deposit :  as  an  ad- 
ditional precaution,  the  coupons  should  be 
separated  from  the  bonds,  and  kept  by 
themselves. 

The  Banker  advised  that  Roland  should 
acquire  some  insight  of  his  own  into  busi- 
ness and  money  matters.  As  he  would  one 
.day  have  the  management  of  such  a  large 
property,  it  would  be  desirable  for  him  to 
enter  some  business  house  for  a  while ; 
otherwise  he  would  always  be  in  a  measure 
dependent  upon  others.  He  offered  to 
make  an  exception  in  Roland's  favor,  and, 
contrary  to  his  custom,  receive  the  young 
man  into  his  own  office. 

Eric  assented,  seeing  what  an  advantage 
this  would  be ;  but  Roland  looked  embar- 
rassed. The  Banker  now  produced  Weid- 
mann's  letter  in  which  the  same  desire  was 
expressed. 

Roland  cast  a  timid  look  about  the  room, 
where  several  young  men  were  standing  at 
desks  writing,  or  were  walking  to  and  fro. 
Should  he  be  standing  there  too?  What 
did  these  strangers  mean  by  disposing  of 
him  so,  and  wishing  to  give  him  a  career  ? 

All  this  passed  rapidly  through  his  mind, 
and,  when  he  was  asked  his  opinion,  he  re- 
plied, — 

"  I  am  grateful  not  only  for  the  kindness, 
but  for  the  frankness,  of  Herr  Weidmann 
and  vourself  in  speaking  so  openly  with 
me." 

The  Banker  sent  word  through  a  speak- 
ing-tube, that  he  desired  Herr  Rudolph 
Weidmann  to  come  up  to  his  room. 

Weidmann'a  youngest  son,  who  was  a 
clerk  in  the  banking  house,  soon  entered. 

There  was  a  general  introduction  :  the 
young  man  bowed  to  Eric,  and  shook  hands 
with  Roland.  The  Banker  told  young 
Weidmann  that  he  should  be  excused  from 
work  as  long  as  Roland  remained  ;  but  the 
young  man  replied,  that  there  was  so  much 
work  going  on  as  to  make  that  impossible. 
The  Banker  dismissed  him  with  an  invita- 
tion -to  come  that  evening  to  his  house ; 
and>  after  a  few  friendly  words  with  Roland, 
the  boy  departed. 

The  Banker  considered  whether  it  would 
not  be  well  to  sell  some  of  Sonnenkamp's 
American  paper,  owing  to  the  unsettled 
state  of  the  times  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
could  hardly  take  upon  himself  the  respon- 
sibility. He  received  with  a  cordial  smile 
Roland's  suggestion,  that  they  were  boun^ 
to  keep  his  money  as  it  was  till  there 
should  be  some  new  developments. 

Roland  and  Eric  next  accompanied  the 


Banker  to  the  house.  It  was  just  at  the 
time,  when,  owing  to  the  election  of  Lincoln, 
American  paper  was  falling  from  day  to 
day  in  value,  occasioning  great  excitement 
in  business  circles.  Roland  and  Eric  were 
greatly  impressed  by  the  fact ;  and  the 
question  arose  in  their  minds,  How  could 
men  take  a  purely  moral  and  disinterested 
view  of  great  public  events,  when  the  rise 
and  fall  which  they  occasioned  affected  so 
immediately  their  own  profit  and  loss  ? 

Bewildered  by  the  noise  and  the  contra- 
dictory emotions  that  the  scene  aroused  in 
them,  they  left  the  Exchange,  and  became 
the  Banker's  guests  in  his  own  house. 

Here  the  Banker  assumed  the  part  of 
teacher,  and  explained  to  his  two  guests 
that  the  laws  of  economics  and  those  of 
humanity  were  hard  to  reconcile,  almost  as 
hard  as  the  conflict  between  the  freedom  of 
the  will  and  the  limitations  of  nature  in  the 
department  of  philosophy.  They  are  parallel 
lines  that  rarely  meet,  and  then  only  to 
part  again  at  once.  After  all,  what  was 
one  man's  loss  was  another  man's  gain,  so 
that  none  of  the  world's  property  was  really 
lost. 

Eric  showed  how  these  contrasts  had  been 
recognized,  though  in  a  different'way,  in  the 
most  ancient  times.  The  rod  of  Hermes  is 
at  once  the  wand  of  divination  and  the 
symbol  of  that  instantaneous  flash  —  the  in- 
troduction into  life  and  the  dismissal  from 
it  —  by  which  the  old  myths  represented 
human  life  and  death. 

The  Banker,  who  was  always  ready  to 
receive  information,  listened  to  Eric's  ex- 
planation of  the  myths  and  sagas,  and  their 
similarity  in  all  the  different  nations.  He 
was  always  eager  to  penetrate  any  new 
realm  of  knowledge,  and  grateful  for  in- 
struction. 

While  the  company  were  at  table,  several 
telegrams  were  brought  to  the  Banker,  who 
read  them  tranquilly,  and  then  handed 
them  to  his  two  sons,  who  were  sitting  at 
table  with  him. 

Here,  at  this  table,  Eric  was  for  the  first 
time  conscious  of  a  change  in  himself.  The 
Banker  liked  to  have  every  finished  result 
of  science  served  up  for  him,  and  he  brought 
intelligence  and  relish  to  the  enjoyment  of 
it,  as  he  did  at  the  sAme  time  to  a  perfectly 
ripe  pine-apple ;  but  Eric  was  not  so  com- 
municative as  he  used  to  be,  and  no  longer 
felt  called  upon  to  give  himself  out  at  every 
demand.  He  kept  silence,  and  left  the  talk- 
ing to  others.  As  soon  as  he  had  finished 
his  comparisons  of  the  different  mytholo- 
gies, the  Banker,  in  his  turn,  spoke  of  the 


510 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


effect  that  was  produced  by  the  rise  or  fall 
of  this  or  that  paper ;  the  exchange  also  he 
described  as  an  organic  existence. 

Eric  was  a  ready  listener,  he  wanted  now 
to  be  instructed  by  others. 

The  Banker's  daughter-in-law,  a  lady  of 
noble  bearing,  treated  Eric  and  Roland 
with  marked  cordiality,  and  expressed  a 
great  desire  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
Professorin  and  Manna. 

Eric  was  surprised  at  being  reminded  of 
an  incident  that  had  almost  passed  from 
his  memory.  This  lady  had  heard  him  sing 
at  the  festival,  and  said  how  much  pleasure 
it  would  give  her  to  hear  him  again,  as  she 
sang  a  little  herself:  upon  his  saying,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  not  at  that  moment  at  all 
in  the  mood  for  singirig,  she  at  once  ceased 
from  her  request,  in  the  hope  that  it  might, 
by  and  by,  at  some  happier  time  be  granted 
her. 

As  the  company  were  rising  from  table, 
young  Weidmann  and  the  cashier  Fassben- 
der  were  announced.  The  host  made  them 
come  in,  and  sit  down  with  the  party  at 
dessert.  The  young  men  were  evidently 
embarrassed,  and  felt  it  a  great  favor  to  be 
thus  admitted  into  the  private  life  of  their 
chief. 

The  gentlemen  repaired  to  the  billiard 
room.  And  the  young  men,  as  a  special 
favor,  were  allowed  to  smoke  a  cigar  in  the 
house  of  the  chief,  even  in  his  presence. 

As  Roland  showed  no  inclination  to  take 
part  in  the  game,  the  Banker  told  him  to 
consider  himself  at  perfect  liberty  to  go  to 
his  room,  or  to  take  a  walk  with  Weidmann 
and  Fassbender.  He  preferred  going  with 
the  young  men  to  his  room.  He  returned 
presently,  when  the  gentlemen,  having  fin- 
ished their  game,  were  sitting  in  familiar 
chat  about  the  open  fire,  and  with  many 
thanks  announced  his  resolution  of  entering 
the  office  for  a  while  ;  only  stipulating  that 
he  should  not  be  charged  with  fickleness 
of  purpose,  if  he  did  not  stay  long  in  the 
employ. 

Far  into  the  night,  Roland  talked  with 
Eric,  telling  him  how  strange  it  seemed  to 
have  so  much  guidance  and  protection  offered 
him,  although  he  acknowledged  the  advan- 
tage it  was  to  him,  and  the  gratitude  he 
feit  towards  these  gentlemen  for  it. 

The  next  morning,  the  box  of  papers  was 
taken  to  the  vaults  of  the  bank.  Eric  and 
Roland  stood  as  in  a  fairy  tale  before  all 
this  hidden  treasure.  Some  old  recollection 
must  have  been  stirred  in  Roland ;  for  he 
suddenly  said  to  Eric,  — 

"  What  would  Claus  say  if  he  could  see 
all  this?" 


He  looked  in  amazement  at  Eric,  standing 
there  so  tranquil  and  indifferent. 

"  Does  it  not  impress  you  strongly  too  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  Not  at  all ;  for  what  is  all  this  treasure  ? 
From  the  top  of  a  mountain,  you  see  things 
of  much  more  value  than  this  stamped 
metal.  Houses,  fields,  trees,  are  much  more, 
much  greater." 

Roland  looked  disheartened.  For  a  long 
time  to  come,  he  would  have  nothing  to  do 
but  cast  accounts,  and  watch  the  money 
market.  The  full  life  at  the  Villa,  the 
mountains,  the  river,  the  drives,  and  Matten- 
heim, all  seemed  removed  to  an  immeasura- 
ble distance.  Nevertheless,  he  remained 
firm. 

Eric  took  Roland  to  the  counting-house, 
where  the  latter  was  assigned  a  place  at 
young  Weidmann's  desk. 

Eric  staid  several  days ;  for  he  wished 
to  become  acquainted  with  Roland's  associ- 
ates. He  was  especially  pleased  with  the 
cashier,  Fassbender' s  son,  a  young  man 
of  much  discernment  and  youthful  freshness, 
active  in  body,  and  vivacious  in  mind.  He 
was  president  of  the  mercantile  tarnverein, 
and  assiduously  cultivated  the  love  of  learn- 
ing in  himself  and  his  companions. 

Eric  could  resign  the  guidance  of  Roland 
to  this  young  man  with  entire  confidence. 

He  talked  much  with  the  Banker  about 
Clodwig.  The  Banker  was  very  lenient  in 
his  judgment  of  Bella,  and  could  not  re- 
frain from  reproaching  Clodwig  with  hav- 
ing married  again  :  he  had  deceived  him- 
self, and  allowed  Bella  to  be  deceived ;  for 
the  latter  had  really  believed  that  she 
could  find  pleasure  in  a  quiet  life,  and  re- 
linquish all  the  privileges  of  youth;  and 
it  was  the  smothered  passion  for  adven- 
ture which  had  driven  her  to  this  extreme. 

Eric  listened,  but  said  little.  He  even 
felt  it  his  duty  to  tell  the  Banker  that  he 
had  got  over  his  old  zeal  for  imparting 
knowledge,  and  was  no  longer  in  a  condi- 
tion to  give  the  total  results  of  his  thoughts 
and  study. 

The  Banker  considered  this  perfectly 
natural.  The  knowledge  which  constituted 
a  man's  calling,  he  said,  was  a  man's  capi- 
tal, and  ought  not  to  be  drawn  upon : 
every  man  held  a  kind  of  trust  fund,  and 
the  interest  only  should  be  risked  and  freely 
employed  in  trade. 

He  thought  it  eminently  proper  that 
tfEric  should  now  learn  to  be  economical  of 
himself. 

On  the  third  day,  Eric  returned  alone 
to  Villa  Eden,  promising  to  forward  all 
necessary  aids  for  Roland. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


511 


He  came,  as  it  were,  out  of  another 
world  ;  but  his  heart  was  lightened  :  he  re- 
joiced at  Roland's  sudden  resolve,  and 
even  began  to  consider  himself  no  longer 
as  a  mere  scholar,  but  as  one  to  whom  a 
great  treasure  has  been  intrusted  which  he 
is  to  care  for  next  to  truth. 

The  announcement  of  Roland's  decision 
created  great  astonishment  at  Villa  Eden. 

'  Eric  found  Professor  Einsiedel  and  Fräu- 
lein Milch  at  his  mother's  ;  and  all  gazed 
wonderingly  at  the  latter  when  she  suddenly 
exclaimed,  — 

"  Roland  enter  the  house  of  a  Jew  ! " 
.  But  to  the  inquiry  what  there  was  strange 
about  this,  she  made  no  reply,  only  looking 
round  as  if  bewildered. 

Eric  told  the  Professor  he  should  now 
make  great  allowance  for  the  rich,  to  whom 
full  aspiration  could  scarcely  be  possible 
with  their  vast  possessions  ever  in-  their 
thoughts.  The  safe-key  in  the  breast 
pocket  must,  he  thought,  lock  up  some- 
thing in  the  heart. 

Manna,  alone,  comprehended  the  true 
grounds  of  Roland's  strange  resolve ;  for 
she  said  that  it  would  not  merely  prove  the 
youth's  salvation  to  learn  the  management 
of  wealth,  which,  after  all,  was  only  a  kind 
of  military  drill,  but  that  he  evidently  con- 
sidered it  a  fortunate  opportunity  to  be 
transplanted  into  an  entirely  new  sphere  of 
life. 

And  so  it  was. 

Manna  almost  envied  her  brother  the 
opportunity  of  doing  and  becoming  some- 
thing new.  She,  too,  would  gladly  have 
engaged  in  some  occupation.  A  trait  "of 
Sonnenkamp's  strange  nature  asserted  it- 
self within  her.  She  wanted  to  go  forth 
into  the  world.  She  was  more  with  the 
Aunt  than  with  the  Professorin,  who  de- 
sired, if  possible,  to  effect  a  speedy  and 
fundamental  cure ;  while  the  Aunt  preferred 
to  begin  by  a  tender  fostering  care; 

Eric  and  his  mother  pondered  much  upon 
how  best  to  deal  with  Manna's  restless 
mood,  and  to  satisfy  her  longing  aspirations. 

So  much  had  come  upon  her  at  once ; 
and  her  love  for  Eric  did  not  seem  quite  to 
compensate  her  for  what  she  had  lost, 
since  at  heart  she  still  yearned  for  a  firm 
support  in  the  Church. 

Weidmann  came,  and  with  him  they  dis- 
cussed the  question  of  waiving  all  ordinary 
considerations,  and  celebrating  Manna's  and 
Eric's  marriage  at  once. 

He  declared  that  one  ought  never  to  have 
recourse  to  marriage  as  a  remedy,  but 
should  enter  into  a  new  phase  of  existence 


with  a  tranquil  heart,  and  a  new  joy  in  ex- 
istence itself. 

This  coincided  with  Eric's  own  secret 
feeling,  and  he  said  to  Manna,  — 

"  Your  desire  to  travel,  to  find  something 
outside  yourself,  is  a  perfectly  natural  one. 
You  miss  that  great  other  home  of  yours, 
the  church,  which  you  could  visit  at  any 
time,  and  come  back  in  an  altered  frame  of 
mind.  You  want  some  other  human  being 
to  proffer  you  out  of  his  own  thought  and 
soul,  and  upon  constituted  authority,  some- 
thing distinct  from  yourself,  —  something 
which  you  yourself  have  lost.  Instead  of 
this,  you  have  now  to  find  your  all  at  home 
and  in  yourself.  It  is  hard,  I  know ;  but 
so  it  must  be.  So  long  as  you  seek  any 
thing  without,  you  are  not  at  home  with 
yourself.  Here  in  this  place,  in  these  rooms 
where  such  horror  overwhelmed  us,  we 
must  learn  to  compose  and  control  our- 
selves. .'  Stand  to  your  post !  '  is  the  mili- 
tary command  ;  and  it  has  also  a  moral  sig- 
nificance." 

With  such  words,  and  more  to  the  same 
effect,  did  Eric  lighten  Manna's  perplexi- 
ties :  she  embraced  and  thanked  him  for 
thus  entering  into  her  very  soul,  and  freeing 
her  from  every  yoke. 

Quietly  and  serenely  the  days  glided  by, 
until  an  invitation  arrived  from  the  Jus- 
tice's wife.  The  Professorin  accepted  at 
once  ;  but  Manna  said  she  could  not  accom- 
pany her :  she  was  not  yet  chastened  and 
calm  enough  to  mingle  with  the  world  and 
submit  to  being  received  with  compassion. 

Eric  made  a  sign  to  his  mother  not  to 
urge  Manna  ;  and  she  was  left  to  do  as  she 
liked. 

CHAPTER  VII. 
BITTER  ALMONDS  BECOME  SWEET. 

The  Justice's  wife  was  an  object  of  envy 
in  that  the  first  coffee-party  of  the  winter 
was  to  be  at  her  house.  It  seemed  hardly 
necessary  to  provide  any  entertainment ; 
for  who  would  care  to  eat  and  drink  when 
there  was  so  much  to  talk  about  ?  —  of  Son- 
nenkamp, of  Bella,  of  the  betrothal  of  Eric 
and  Manna,  of  poor  Frau  Ceres,  of  the 
negro,  of  the  Prince,  of  Clodwig's  death. 
There  was  so  much,  that  only  a  part  of  it 
could  be  brought  into  play. 

At  length  the  company  assembled. 

The  corner  of  the  sofa  where  Bella 
used  to  sit  —  it  seemed  decades  ago  —  was 
shunned  with  a  kind  of  superstitious  dread. 
Frau  "  Lay-Figure  "  was  so  extremely  for- 


512 


THE  COUNTRY-HOÜ 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


tunatc  as  to  have  a  story  to  tell  about  a 
sofa-corner.  There  was  a  physician  back 
in  the  country,  with  a  very  small  practice, 
and  the  sofa  in  his  parlor  had  a  great  hole 
in  it :  so,  whenever  a  caller  came,  the  doc- 
tor's wife  was  very  affable,  and  seated  her- 
self forthwith  upon  the  torn  place  in  the 
sofa.  It  was  a  good  story  enough,  and 
Frau  Lay-Figure  told  it  well,  too :  and  she 
laughed,  as  she  generally  did ;  for  .  she 
laughed  at  every  thing  :  but  nobody  else 
laughed  very  heartily. 

Luckily,  a  stranger  was  now  introduced  ; 
quite  a  distinguished  personage,  who  now 
made  her  first  appearance  at  the  grand 
coffee-party.  This  was  the  wife  of  the  Di- 
rector of  tlie  Water-works,  who,  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  duties  as  Rhine  Commissioner, 
had  come  to  reside  for  a  short  time  in  the 
little  town. 

The  Frau  Directorin  of  the  Water-works 
seated  herself,  all  unconsciously,  in  Bella's 
old  place. 

And  now  they  could  begin. 

But  who  would  have  guessed  that  the 
covetousness  of  the  Cabinetsräthen  would 
be  first  discussed  as  a  kind  of  appetizing 
morsel !  This  was  the  way  with  great 
people.  Of  course,  one  could  get  clothes 
from  Paris  by  such  machinations.  A  mag- 
nificent system  of  bribery  indeed  !  Who 
knew  what  else  she  might  have  got  out  of 
Sonnenkamp,  and  others  besides  ?  The 
ladies  were  almost  ashamed  of  their  own 
virtuous  stupidity. 

The  English  lady  spoke  with  great  re- 
spect of  the  Americans  who  had  purchased 
the  villa  of  the  Cabinetsrath. 

Tiie  Consul's  wife  in  particular,  she  said, 
belonged  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  the 
Northern  States ;  for  there  was  a  decided 
aristocracy  there,  distinguished  for  its  noble 
bearing.  The  great  merchants,  the  million- 
naires  of  the  North,  were  usually  called 
"  merchant-princes." 

Frau  White,  or  Frau  "  Coal,"  as  she  was 
called,  gazed  reverently  up  at  the  English 
lady.  Her  glance  said  that  she  considered 
the  latter  a  happy  woman  to  have  any  thing 
so  well  worth  telling. 

The  Rhine  Commissioner's  wife  had  a 
very  good  time.  To  her  they  could  tell  the 
whole  story  of  the  house  of  Sonnenkamp  ; 
and  the  ladies  took  turns,  and  supplemented 
one  another's  narratives. 

The  Avife  of  the  cement-manufacturer 
wore  her  perpetual  frown,  and  nodded  oc- 
casionally, as  if  she  had  much  to  say,  when, 
in  reality,  she  had  nothing. 

Frau  Lay- Figure  observed,  smiling  sweet- 
ly, that  it  was  very  interesting  to  have 


known  a  slave-trader.  She  had  often  wished 
to  see  one. 

"  And  a  cannibal  too  !  "  said  the  wife  of 
the  steamboat-agent,  who,  as  usual,  held 
her  cup  aloft  in  her  left  hand,  and  dipped 
her  cake  in  it  from  time  to  time.  She  had 
always  the  very  best  appetite. 

"  Yes,  that  is  interesting  too,"  assented 
Frau  Lay-Figure,  smiling  so  as  to  show  her 
teeth. 

It  was  remarkable  that  no  one  ventured  at 
first  to  allude  to  Frau  Bella,  until  the  wife 
of  the  steamboat-agent  told  how  she  had  gone 
with  her  eldest  daughter  to  the  dentist,  and 
he  had  told  her  he  was  never  so  startled  in 
his  life  as  when  the  Countess  von  Wolfs- 
garten  came  to  him,  the  very  night  Count 
Clod  wig  was  so  ill,  to  have  a  front  tooth 
set. 

The  Doctor's  wife  said  that  Frau  Bella 
was  not  guiltless  of  her  husband's  death. 

All  now  fell  upon  her.  She  must  tell 
them  what  she  knew ;  and,  before  she 
could  explain  herself,  Frau  Lay-Figure 
added,  — 

"  And  no  doubt  Herr  Sonnenkamp  was 
guilty  too  !    Who  knows  what  he  did  V  " 

The  good  Doctor's  lady  turned  pale ;  but 
though  she  protested  earnestly  and  solemn- 
ly, that  her  husband  had  said  nothing  about 
it,  that  she  never  would  have  spoken  if 
he  had,  they  would  not  believe  her.  The 
Doctor's  wife  was  exceedingly  sorry,  and 
retracted  her  remarks,  that  Bella,  in  a  pas- 
sionate outburst,  had  wounded  deeply  her 
husband's  feelings.  The  mistaken  declara- 
tion of  the  coroner,  so  strenuously  contra- 
dicted, was  revived ;  and  they  said  it  was 
evident  that  Frau  Bella  had  felt  herself 
in  some  way  to  blame,  and  had  fled  on  this 
account. 

"I  pity  Herr  von  Pranken,"  said  Lina 
suddenly. 

All  eyes  were  turned  upon  her ;  and  Lina 
quietly  continued,  — 

"  Yes,  he  is  not  so  bad  a  man  after  all. 
He  has  lost  his  bride,  and  now  his  sister  has 
deserted  him ;  and  for  so  much  shame  and 
misery  to  be  heaped  upon  his  head  is  too 
hard." 

The  wife  of  the  Director  of  the  Water- 
works praised  Lina's  kind-heartedness,  and 
wanted  to  know  more  about  Bella's  char- 
acter. Frau  Lay-Figure  said  she  was, the 
one  to  inform  her ;  for  she  had  a  cook  who 
had  formerly  lived  with  Bella.  The  latter 
was  not  bad  to  her  servants,  only  capricious. 
She  sometimes  scolded  them  dreadfully,  but 
made  them  presents  afterwards,  and  took 
care  to  have  them  enjoy  themselves. 

A  good  deal  of  curiosity  was  expressed 


THE  COÜNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


513 


by  one  and  another,  as  to  whether  Eric  and 
Manna  would  soon  marry.  The  death  of 
Frau  Ceres  and  the  Priest's  violent 
harangue  were  next  discussed. 

The  steamboat-agent's  wife  had  some 
further  information  to  give  about  Bella's 
nocturnal  journey.  She  had  questioned  the 
pilot ;  and  universal  astonishment  was  ex- 
pressed that  Bella  had  taken  no  wardrobe 
with  her. 

"  I  fancy  she  will  assume  man's  attire, 
and  she  will  look  remarkably  well  in  it." 

Frau  Lay-Figure  rolled  her  eyes  about 
the  circle  after  this  audacious  remark ;  but 
she  encountered  no  glance.  The  eyes  of 
all  the  ladies  were  cast  down. 

The  question  was  now  asked,  whether 
the  Professorin  had  been  invited.  The 
Justice's  wife  replied  in  the  affirmative ;  and 
Frau  Lay-Figure  began,  that  people  said, 
—  but  they  all  knew  no  one  had  ever  said 
it  but  herself,  —  that  the  Professorin  had 
managed  very  adroitly  to  oust  Pranken,  and 
substitute  her  son.  Before  any  one  could 
reply,  there  was  a  knock,  and  the  Profes- 
sorin entered.  All  rose ;  and  Frau  Lay- 
Figure,  who  had  ensconced  herself  in  the 
harmless  corner  of  the  sofa,  insisted  upon 
giving  the  Professorin  her  place. 

With  winning  frankness,  the  lady  re- 
marked, that  she  had  had  a  strong  desire  to 
see  something  of  her  fellowmen  once  more, 
and  could  enter  most  heartily  into  their 
simple  and  delightful  mode  of  life.  Amidst 
so  much  confusion,  one  was  apt  to  forget 
that  there  could  be  any  thing  steadfast  in 
the  world. 

Every  one  was  struck  with  respectful 
surprise,  Frau  Lay-Figure  most  of  all. 

Inquiries  were  made  for  Manna ;  and  the 
Professorin  said  she  had  wished  to  be  re- 
membered to  them,  and  regretted  that  she 
•  could  not  come.  A  genial  feeling  prevailed ; 
and  Lina  did  not  wait  to  be  entreated,  but, 
at  the  request  of  the  Professorin,  seated 
herself  at  the  piano,  and  sang.  She  felt 
that  her  music  would  refresh  the  good  lady  ; 
and  she  sang  with  her  whole  soul.  She  had 
never  sung  better.  In  the  midst  of  her 
performance,  Manna  appeared  with  Aunt 
Claudine  in  the  adjoining  room.  Both 
waited  in  silence  till  the  song  was  ended. 

Lina  was  overjoyed  at  Manna's  arrival, 
and  accosted  her  thus,  — 

"  Forgive  me  for  being  so  naughty !  It 
has  vexed  me  that  my  happy  betrothal- 
time  should  be  spoiled  by  all  this  trouble ; 
and  now  it  is  just  the  same  with  you !  I 
was  thinking  even  now,  as  I  sang,  how  I 
wished  I  could  give  you  some  of  my  joy  and 


forgetfulness  and  hopefulness  and  all  the 
rest." 

The  eyes  of  all  were  fixed  upon  Manna, 
whose  appearance  was  totally  changed  by 
her  mourning  dress.  The  Rhine  Commis- 
sioner's wife  observed  in  a  low  tone,  that 
she  had  never  seen  such  dark  eyes,  or  so 
broad  and  fair  a  forehead.  Manna  was 
perfectly  self-possessed,  and  bowed  when 
assailed  on  all  sides  with  entreaties  that 
she  would  continue  to  live  at  the  Villa,  and 
not  sell  it,  and  remove  to  another  country. 
They  were  all  so  much  attached  to  Eric 
and  herself,  and  would  like  so  much  to  have 
them  for  friends  and  neighbors. 

In  fact,  a  magnanimous  spirit  took  posses- 
sion of  the  company ;  and,  on  their  way 
home,  Manna  exclaimed,  — 

"  O  Mother !  Eric  was  perfectly  right. 
He  persuaded  me  to  come  here,  and  I  am 
glad  I  did.  We  ought  not  to  seclude  our- 
selves from  people  when  they  are  kindly 
disposed  towards  us." 

During  the  whole  drive,  Manna  held  the 
Professcfrin's  hand,  and,  when  they  arrived 
at  the  Villa,  ran  up  the  steps  for  the  first 
time  with  a  firm  and  rapid  tread.  She 
ordered  the  room  to  be  brightly  lighted,  and 
also  begged  Eric  to  sing  to  her.  He  knew 
what  songs  to  choose;  and,  when  they  sepa- 
rated, she  said,  — 

"Yes,  my  dear  ones,  I  have  taken, my 
journey,  and  now  I  am  once  more  quite  at 
home." 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
TRANSPLANTED. 

Roland,  meanwhile,  was  living  quietly 
at  the  commercial  town,  industrious  and 
happy.  He  resided  in  the  Banker's  house, 
and  made  friends  with  the  children  of  the 
latter,  particularly  with  a  younger  son,  who, 
just  returning  from  the  University,  had  laid 
aside  his  books,  and  entered  immediately 
upon  the  banking  business.  But  for  Weid- 
mannes youngest  son  he  cherished  a  genu- 
ine youthful  friendship,  very  unlike  that 
artificial  intimacy  with  the  cadet,  which 
had  been  forced  upon  him  by  others.  They 
were  incessantly  busy  during  the  day,  which 
closed  with  a  late  dinner,  after  which  they 
had  a  game  in  the  billiard-room,  or  attend- 
ed some  concert  or  play,  or,  more  frequently, 
read  or  studied  quietly,  each  by  himself. 

Roland  often  sat  in  his  room  till  late  at 
night,  teaching  English  to  his  young  friends 
Weidmann  and  Fassbender. 

He,  too,  had  now  become  a  teacher,  and 


514 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


derived  a  singular  pleasure  from  thus  im- 
parting something  of  himself,  and  not 
merely  of  his  possessions, —  a  pleasure  whieh 
was  exalted  into  the  purest  joy  by  the 
bright  and  cordial  nature  of  young  Weid- 
mann. 

Wherever  Roland  appeared,  he  was  the 
object,  first  of  remark,  afterwards  of  kindly 
attention.  He  thought  often  of  his  winter 
at  the  capital,  and  how  different  life  had 
been  there.  Here  he  found  a  circle  of  com- 
moners, understanding  itself  thoroughly, 
and  not  without  pride  in  its  own  strength. 
All  the  officials  at  the  counting-house  were 
particularly  friendly  to  Roland.  His  beau- 
ty, his  confiding  disposition,  above  all  his 
hard  fate,  seemed  to  recommend  him  to 
their  especial  consideration.  The  Banker 
praised  him  for  having  mastered,  in  so  short 
a  time,  the  essentials  of  the  business ;  for  he 
could  now  compute  the  price  of  any  public 
funds  by  means  of  the  exchange  lists,  and 
had  a  good  insight  into  book-keeping. 

So  passed  several  weeks,  until  the  elder 
Weidmann  arrived,  and  invited  his  son,  the, 
cashier  Fassbender,  and  Roland  to  visit 
him. 

Weidmann  first  saw  his  son  and  Fass- 
bender  alone,  and  learned  from  them  that 
the  younger  tradesmen  had  discussed  the 
subject  of  the  slave-trade,  and  had  even 
held  a  meeting,  and  formally  debated  the 
question,  but  disagreed  in  their  final  vote. 
They  stood  twelve  against  twelve ;  it  hav- 
ing been  strongly  urged  that  a  man  might 
lawfully  carry  on  this '  traffic,  provided  he 
were  not  personally  engaged  in  it ;  espe- 
cially since  others  would  be  sure  to  carry 
on  the  lucrative  business  if  he  were  held 
back  by  scruples. 

Weidmann  looked  grave. 

Roland  came.  He  was  very  animated, 
and  re-assured  by  Wcidmann's  encouraging 
glance,  he  begged  to  be  allowed  to  return  to 
Mattenheim. 

The  Banker  assented  readily. 

WTith  expressions  of  genuine  affection, 
they  bade  Roland  good-by.  First  of  all,  he 
revisited  Villa  Eden  with  Herr  Weidmann. 
He  had  left  it  a  boy  ;  he  returned  a  mature 
man. 

In  a  few  days,  Roland's  effects  were  all 
packed,  ready  for  a  removal  to  Matten- 
heim. 

Eric  accompanied  him  thither,  and  Ro- 
land turned  crimson,  when,  on  entering  his 
room  —  it  was  the  same  that  Lilian  had 
formerly  occupied  —  Knopf  handed  him  a 
note  from  the  latter.  She  had  expressly 
requested  that  it  might  not'  be  given  to 


Roland  until  he  returned  permanently  to 
Mattenheim. 

The  next  day,  Eric  went  back  to  Villa 
Eden5  and  announced  to  Manna  and  his 
mother  his  own  intention  of  removing  to 
Mattenheim. 

A  strange  conflict  ensued  in  Manna's 
breast ;  but,  as  she  made  no  allusion  to  it, 
Eric  thought  it  right  to  respect  her  reserve. 

The  Major,  to  whom  Eric  confided  his 
plan,  complained  that  he,  too,  had  got  to 
build  himself  a  new  nest  in  his  old  age  ;  for 
his  brother,  the  Grand-master,  whose  wife 
had  died,  had  become  engaged,  and  was  to 
be  married  again  in  the  spring.  Now, 
Fräulein  Milch  had  no  mind  to  be  tolerated 
and  patronized  by  a  young  wife ;  and  when 
his  Masonic  brother,  the  Grand-master,  had 
informed  them  that  he  should  wish  to  reserve 
one  of  the  rooms  which  the  Major  had 
formerly  occupied,  for  a  guest-chamber, 
Fräulein  Milch  had  behaved  in  a  most  inde- 
pendent manner. 

She  thanked  him,  but  declared  her  fixed 
determination  to  leave  the  house. 

They  had  never  had  a  quarrel  before. 

But  when  the  Major  perceived  how 
sorrowfully  Fräulein  Milch  repented  her  ob- 
stinate determination,  "he  scolded  himself  for 
being  too  meek  and  yielding,  and  thanked 
the  Fräulein  for  preserving  her  dignity  as 
he  ought  to  have  done  himself,  but  which 
he  was  so  apt  to  lose  sight  of. 

He  proposed  to  Fräulein  Milch  the  plan 
of  removing  to  the  castle,  where  there  were 
fine  rooms  all  in  readiness,  and  where  it 
must  be  very  pleasant  to  live  ;  but  Fräulein 
Milch  would  hear  nothing  about  living  in  a 
knightly  castle.  She  set  forth  to  the  Major 
the  bother  it  would  entail :  with  the  butcher, 
the  baker,  the  grocer,  the  milkmaid,  with 
all  the  various  trades  and  callings,  did  she 
persecute  the  Major,  until  he  was  sore  dis-' 
mayed. 

"  We  will  say  no  more  about  it,"  he  cried, 
"  but  pray  don't  let  me  forget  to  ask  Cap- 
tain Dournay  how  the  old  knights  used  to 
live." 

Upon  Eric's  arrival,  this  had  been  the 
Major's  opening  question,  and  then,  for 
the  first  time,  he  made  known  his  own 
difficulty. 

Eric  did  not  regret  it ;  for  he  hoped,  that, 
in  the  spring,  the  Major  would  remove  to 
the  green  cottage,  while  his  mother  would 
live  with  Manna  at  the  Villa. 

The  Major  laughed.  "  Did  you  ever 
hear,"  said  he,  "  the  story  of  the  man  who 
was  a  suitor  forty  years  ?  Courting-time 
is  very  fine,  I  tell  you  ;  but  even  ten  years 


/ 


THE   COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON   THE  RHINE. 


515 


is  too  long.  And  now  away  with  you ! 
There  is  something  for  you  to  learn  yet. 
But  don't  tell  a  soul  about  that  stale  old 
suitor,  will  you  ?  On  your  honor  ?  He, 
too,  was  once  young." 

On  the  eve  of  his  departure,  when  he 
and  Manna  were  alone,  Eric  said,  — 

"  Manna,  we  have  no  betrothal  time. 
Our  hearts  are  torn  by  sorrow  and  separa- 
tion, Ave  must  comfort  one  another." 

"  And  might  I  know  why  you,  too,  forsake 
me?" 

"  I  shall  be  much  with  you  and  my  moth- 
er ;  but  I  must  be  alone  also.  Just  think,  I 
have  to  become  a  new  man,  to  change  my 
scholarly  vocation  for  some  other,  I  know 
not  what;  but  whether  I  am  near  you,  or 
not,  whether  I  hold  your  hand,  and  look  into 
your  eves,  or  am  far  away,  be  sure  that  you 
are  the  inmost  life  of  my  heart :  I  bear  you 
about  with  me  like  a  blessed  faith." 

As  Eric  continued  in  this  strain,  a  new 
and  delightful  understanding  was  established 
between  the  two,  and  Manna  embraced  him, 
saying,  — 

"  I  will  not  shed  a  tear  to-morrow  when 
you  leave  ;  and  I  will  follow  you  in  all  your 
wanderings  with  trustful  eyes.  I  know  that 
I  am  with  you  and  in  you,  as  you  are  with 
me  and  in  me.  It  seems  inconceivable  to 
me  that  I  never  knew  you  before  that  spring 
day.  I  cannot  think  what  the  world  was 
like  before  I  knew  you  ;  for  I  cannot  im- 
agine the  world  without  you." 

When  Eric  left  for  Mattenheim,  the  next 
day,  he  kissed  his  betrothed  for  the  first 
time  before  his  mother ;  and,  after  he  had 
mounted  his  horse,  Manna  said  to  him,  — 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  going ;  and  I  will 
stay  quietly  with  your  mother,  and  be  per- 
fectly content.  Thank  you  for  letting  me 
be  a  child  once  more  before  I  become  your 
wife.  Ah  !  I  had  no  childhood  ;  but  forgive 
me.  I  will  never  cease  to  be  grateful  for 
what  has  come  to  me,  and  I  will  not  mingle 
sorrow  with  it  all.  And  I  promise  that 
you  shall  have  in  me  a  strong  and  trust- 
worthy wife." 

So  Eric  departed. 

Adams  went  with  him.  He,  too,  was  to 
learn  husbandry  at  Mattenheim. 

The  ladies  were  now  alone  with  Professor 
Einsiedel  and  the  Major,  who  was  more  at 
the  Villa  than  ever. 

The  Villa  itself,  however,  was  silent  and 
deserted ;  for  they  all  lived  at  the  green 
cottage.  Many  of  the  servants  were  dis- 
missed, and  the  gardeners  only  were  kept 
at  the  Villa. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
UPON  NEW  SOIL. 

A  cheerful  life  they  led  at  Mattenheim. 
The  day  began  and  ended  early.  There 
was  no  trespassing  upon  the  night.  All 
were  incessantly  occupied,  and  even  Adams 
could  not  hold  aloof. 

Weidmann  had  arranged  matters  very 
methodically. 

Adams  received  no  orders ;  but  they  al- 
lowed him  to  see  that  every  one  about  him 
was  busy,  and,  in  the  end,  he  could  not  choose 
but  follow  their  example.  He  became 
ashamed  of  his  idleness  ;  and  the  servant 
who  had  once  been  a  criminal  must  now 
teach  him  to  plough  and  sow.  He  was  even 
eager  to  thresh  ;  but  this  was  exceedingly 
difficult  for  him,  because  he  could  not  keep 
time.  He  liked  best  to  work  in  the  mill; 
and  it  was  a  droll  sight  to  see  the  stalwart 
negro  pass  and  repass,  powdered  with  meal. 
He  also  applied  himself  zealously  to  his 
books,  in  the  evening,  with  Knopf  for  a 
teacher. 

Of  all  the  dwellers  at  Mattenheim.  Knopf 
was  the  happiest.  What  more  could  he 
desire  ?  He  had  Weidmann  whom  he 
revered.  Eric  whom  he  held  in  high  esteem, 
Roland  whom  he  loved  enthusiastically,  and 
a  prince  and  a  slave  to  instruct ;  for  Prince 
Valerian  had  to  submit  to  being  taught  at 
Adams's  side ;  and,  while  Adams  toiled  at  his 
writing-book,  the  Prince  pursued  his  studies 
in  history  and  mathematics ;  and  it  was  often 
amusing  to  hear  Knopf  say,  when  giving  a 
lesson  in  the  history  of  literature,  "  Ob- 
serve, my  dear  young  lady,"  for  hitherto  his 
pupils  in  this  department  had  been  mostly 
girls. 

During  the  day-time,  they  were  employed, 
whatever  the  weather,  in  the  open  air. 
Surveys  were  undertaken,  especially  of  the 
recently  purchased  domain ;  and  many  a 
good  hunt  came  off,  in  which  Roland 
distinguished  himself  by  his  great  expert- 
ness. 

Roland  was  passed,  so  to  speak,  from 
hand  to  hand  ;  for  each  of  Weidmann's  sons 
took  possession  of  him  for  hours  or  days  at 
a  time,  and  found  a  peculiar  pleasure  in 
affording  the  youth,  all  possible  assignee. 
Roland  gained  an  insight  into  many  differ- 
ent processes  of  manufacture ;  but  his  curi- 
osity was  also  awakened  in  quite  another 
direction. 

In  the  cement-manufactory  all  was  so  still, 
that  Roland  asked  the  Inspector,  Fassbend- 


51G 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


er's  eldest  son,  -whether  the  workmen  were 
nut  allowed  to  speak. 

"  They  prefer  not  to,"  was  the  answer ; 
"  for  talking  distracts  their  attention,  and, 
as  they  work  by  the  job,  it  would  hinder 
them  very  much." 

Roland  looked  confounded.  These  men 
imposed  silence  upon  themselves  for  the 
sake  of  earning  their  bread  ! 

The  noon-bell  rang.  He  saw  young  men 
and  girls  of  his  own  age  come  out  of  the 
manufactory  :  some  of  the  girls  were  knit- 
ting as  they  walked  ;  and  the  question  arose 
wimin  him,  In  what  respect  do  you  and 
your  sister  differ  from  these,  and  why  ? 

On  Saturday  evening,  Roland  stood  by 
while  the  workmen  were  paid  off.  They 
were  gathered  in  groups  before  the  house. 
Some  had  washed  themselves,  and  others 
were  still  covered  with  dust.  The  little 
sliding  window  in  the  counting-room  was 
opened,  and  Roland  stood  near  the  Inspect- 
or, as  the  latter  opened  a  drawer  in  which 
lay  various  packages  of  money,  and  read 
aloud  the  list  of  the  workmen's  names.  He 
watched  their  hard  hands  as  they  took  up 
the  money  from  the  shelf,  or  swept  it  with 
the  right  hand  into  the  left. 

When  they  were  all  paid  off,  he  went 
out  and  mingled  with  the  people.  There 
were  soldierly  fellows  among  them  :  some 
Avere  young,  and  some  old ;  and  all  carried 
sticks  with  sharp  ferrules,  and  Avere  chaffer- 
ing with  a  baker- woman  for  loaves  of 
bread,  which  they  wrapped  in  cloths,  and 
carried  away  under  their  arms.  One  called 
to  another  to  bear  him  company  in  his  walk  ; 
and  they  dispersed  up  and  down  the  moun- 
tain. 

Is  it  really  the  lot  of  human  beings  to  live 
so  ?  How  old  are  these  men  ?  Where  are 
their  homes  ? 

Roland  gazed  thoughtfully  after  them. 

Is  there  any  help  for  such  things  ?  or  is 
there  none? 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  asked 
the  Inspector. 

"  I  am  wondering  why  these  tired  men 
should  have  so  far  to  go." 

"  It  is  good  for  them.  It  is  what  keeps 
them  well.  The  worst  feature  of  their  lot 
is  being  pent  up  in  a  confined  space." 

Roland  was  silent ;  but  countless  question- 
ings arose  within  him.  He  could  not  cope 
with  them  ;  and  no  one  else,  however  well 
disposed,  could  solve  them  for  him.  He 
did  not  regain  perfect  composure  except 
after  an  interview  with  Weidmann. 

Weidmann  possessed  a  firm  and  unvary- 
ing equipoise  of  character,  before  which  the 
stormy  agitation  of  other  souls  subsided.  He 


had  dignity  without  severity  He  was  not 
so  vivacious  and  stimulating  as  Eric  ;  but 
he  preserved  a  steady  and  quiet  modera- 
tion in  all  things.  He  took  note  of  a  blun- 
der, a  disaster,  whether  in  public  or  pri- 
vate affairs,  with  manly  calmness ;  never 
allowing  himself  to  be  bewildered  or  dis- 
heartened thereby. 

Eric  had  caused  his  pupil  to  see  things 
through  a  polished  and  many-sided  prism, 
which  seemed  to  remove  objects  from  their 
true  position,  and  make  them  appear  higher 
or  lower  than  they  really  were.  Weidmann, 
on  the  other  hand,  revealed  them  in  their 
simple,  natural  aspect.  He  introduced 
method  into  Roland's  thought,  life,  and 
work ;  for,  thus  far,  the  latter  had  been 
too  unstable,  oven  in  spiritual  things.  He 
gave  Roland  a  course  of  lessons  in  agri- 
cultural chemistry,  which,  at  the  same  time, 
served  Prince  Valerian  as  a  review  of  the 
teaching  he  had  already  received. 

Eric,  too,  came  in  for  a  share  of  this  in- 
struction, and  became  Roland's  fellow-pupil. 

Very  seldom  did  Weidmann  pass  from 
positive  facts  to  spiritual  interpretations; 
but  he  was  all  the  more  impressive  when  he 
did.  He  led  Roland  to  a  comprehension 
of  human  life,  to  patience,  and  wisdom. 
He  showed  him,  that,  despite  the  stress  laid 
on  the  equality  of  mankind,  men  differed 
as  widely  in  their  power  of  grasping 
thoughts,  as  different  substances  in  their 
ability  to  conduct  heat.  Earth  warms 
quicker  than  water  ;  but  it  cools  more  rap- 
idly also.  Thus,  by  analogies  from  Nature, 
did  Weidmann  endeavor  to  teach  his  pupil 
justice  and  humanity,  and  was  not  unfre- 
quently  surprised  to  discover  in  Roland  a 
kind  of  previous  preparation,  which  ena- 
bled him  to  receive  new  ideas  readily,  and 
to  develop  them ;  for  ideas  having  an  anal- 
ogy to  each  other  must  needs  suggest  and 
flow  into  one  another,  giving  rise  to  new 
combinations  of  thought,  as  we  see  in  me- 
chanics, and  conspicuously  in  chemistry. 

Weidmann  often  expressed  briefly  to  Eric 
his  pleasure  at  Roland's  zeal  in  work  and 
study,  and  his  interest  in  the  labor  of  others 
in  the  manufactories. 

.  But,  if  a  great  and  noticeable  change  was 
taking  place  in  Roland,  a  still  greater  trans- 
formation was  being  effected  in  Eric.  Here, 
where  a  man  wrought  always  with  refer- 
ence to  his  neighbor,  where  no  one  dreamed 
of  grasping  the  entire  system,  but  each 
throve  quietly  by  himself;  here  Eric's  lips 
were  often  sealed  for  days  together.  He 
no  longer  felt  it  his  duty  to  be  always  im- 
parting. He  not  only  found  a  deep  joy 
in  his  love  for  Manna,  but  he  preferred 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


517 


listening  to  talking,  and  seeing  to  showing. 
He  felt  as  if  he  were  on  some  peaceful 
island,  where  yet  he  could  hear  a  friendly 
voice  at  any  hour.  Pranken  might  now 
have  watched  him  from  morning  till  night 
in  vain  :  he  would  have  had  to  retract  that 
bitter  speech  of  his  about  Eric's  zeal  for 
imparting  knowledge. 

Roland  and  Knopf  often  regarded  him 
with  surprise.  He  would  accompany  them 
on  long  walks  without  uttering  a  single 
word. 

The  evening  of  each  day  was  devoted  to 
festivity.  Great  stress  was  here  laid  upon 
that  evening  recreation,  which,  unfortunately, 
has  become  obsolete  in  the  world.  Frau 
Weidmann,  who  dressed  neatly  but  plainly 
during  the  day,  appeared  regularly  each 
evening  in  holiday  attire.  They  did  not 
have  prayers  at  Mattenheim ;  but  Weid- 
mann held  private  worship  in  his  soul. 

When  Roland  expressed  his  peculiar 
pleasure  in  the  fine  and  efficient  system  of 
horse-breeding  at  Mattenheim,  Weidmann 
would  say,  — 

"  I  have  a  story  to  tell  about  that.  Every- 
body has  heard,  and  possibly  seen  with 
his  own  eyes,  how  tjie  old  lord  of  the  man- 
or used  to  drive  through  the  village  with 
his  span  of  dock-tailed  bays,  to  the  admira- 
tion of  all  beholders.  And  it  is  customary 
to  say  that  we  have  no  such  horses  now-a- 
days,  so  large,  so  fat,  so  handsome  !  Well, 
that  may  be.  But  no  more  are  there  such 
miserable  nags  to  be  seen  as  in  old  times. 
All  horses  are  moderately  strong  and  hand- 
some, and  of  tolerably  good  blood.  The 
breed  generally  has  improved.  And  there 
you  have  the  present  age.  The  horse  is 
a  fine  emblem  to  my  mind ;  the  lilac  is 
another.  They  used  to  bring  this  flower- 
ing shrub  from  Persia,  and  set  it  only  in 
the  parks  of  great  people  ;  but  now  it  grows 
everywhere,  and  is  none  the  less  beautiful 
for  being  common.  And  so  the  beautiful 
enlarges  its  circumference  perpetually." 

Roland's  eyes  sought  Eric's  at  such  words  ; 
and  their  flash  said,  "  How  new,  how  glori- 
ous, how  wide,  the  world  is  !  " 

On  another  evening,  Weidmann  made 
the  casual  remark,  — 

"  If  the  last  century  deserves  to  be  called 
the  age  of  enlightenment,  ours  should  be 
called  the  age  of  free  labor;  for  self-im- 
posed labor  is  alone  genuine  and  produc- 
tive." 

Roland  did  not  look  at  Eric  after  this, 
but  sat  with  downcast  eyes.  He  knew 
what  the  expression  signified,  having  heard 
it  used  before  now  in  contradistinction  to 
slave-labor. 


Prince  Valerian,  too,  created  much  amuse- 
ment. He  had  always  retained  that  insa- 
tiable desire  for  knowledge,  which  he  had 
displayed  on  his  first  day  at  Wolfsgarten ; 
but  Weidmann  was  as  indefatigable  in  his 
answers  as  the  Prince  in  his  questions. 

Teaching  had  acquired  a  new  impressive- 
ness  for  Roland.  He  was  a  member  of  so- 
ciety. He  heard  questions  answered  which 
he  himself  had  not  proposed,  and,  when  he 
subsequently  asked  these  same  questions  of 
himself,  the  replies  sank  into  his  heart  more 
deeply  than  the  answers  to  his  own  in- 
quiries used  to  do.  Weidmann's  teachings 
were  always  clear  and  definite.  They  fixed 
attention  on  the  subject  exclusively,  never 
on  the  teacher,  insomuch,  that  Weidmann's 
own  worth  was  often  quite  overlooked. 

A  stream  so  clear  that  its  bed  is  plainly 
visible  frequently  appears  shallower  than 
it  really  is  ;  and  so  it  was  with'  Weidmann. 
He  was  not  brilliant ;  but  he  had  genuine 
common  sense. 

There  was  always  unusual  excitement  at 
Mattenheim  when  a  letter  arrived  from 
Dr.  Fritz  ;  and  Weidmann  said  openly,  that, 
since  storms  were  abroad  in  the  world,  he 
trusted  that  the  tempest  which  had  broken 
over  America  might  elear  the  air  in  Europe. 

Encouraged  by  this  remark,  Knopf  related 
how  it  had  been  represented  to  Louis  XIII. 
that  he  could  never  convert  savage  nations, 
and  bring  them  into  the  church,  without 
first  enslaving  them  :  now,  however,  he  said, 
the  heathen  were  brought  into  the  church, 
but  the  little  matter  of  freeing  them  after- 
wards was  forgotten. 

Frau  Weidmann  deprecated  this  sort  of 
discussion  before  Roland,  but  comforted 
herself  with  the  thought  that  her  husband 
must  have  some  deliberate  purpose  in  it 
all. 

And,  in  fact,  it  was  Weidmann's  design  to 
lead  Roland  to  a  full  consideration  of  this 
question.  He  knew  the  sophistry  of  the 
world,  and  how  accessible  to  such  sophistry 
is  a  heavy  heart.  He  had  often  in  the 
commercial  town  heard  intelligent  and  phi- 
lanthropic people  discuss  the  question  of 
the  slave-trade,  and  offer  all  manner  of 
palliations  for  it.  Roland  must  feel  to  the 
full  the  anguish  of  having  to  work  out  the 
solution  of  this  problem  as  best  he  could. 
With  a  vehemence  altogether  unusual,Weid- 
mann  expressed  his  indignation  that  any 
one  should  ever  justify  the  trading  in  hu- 
man beings  endowed  with  speech  and  rea- 
son, as  if  they  were  inanimate  things. 

It  was,  however,  impossible  to  brood  long 
over  any  one  thought  amid  the  far-reaching 
and  many-sided  activity  of  the  place.  More- 


518 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


over,  the  laying-out  of  a  new  village  upon 
the  lately-purchased  domain  afforded  man- 
ifold occupation. 

Weidmann  particularly  enjoyed  the  car- 
rying out  of  this  plan,  lie  admonished  the 
younger  men  thai  it  was.  a  misfortune  not 
to  have  arable  land  connected  with  a  vine- 
yard, not  only  because  crops  sometimes 
fail,  but  because  the  smaller  vine-dresser, 
who  must  sell  in  the  autumn,  is  underpaid 
lor  his  petty  crop.  A  peasant  who  has 
wheat  or  potatoes  to  sell  receives  the  same 
fixed  price  for  a  given  amount  of  produce  as 
others  do  whose  crops  are  large  ;  but  it  was 
not  so  with  grape-culture.  ' 

Knopf  was  very  urgent  that  the  village 
should  not  be  one  of  those  tiresome  colonial 
settlements  built  exactly  in  a  straight  line: 
and  the  architect  consoled  him  by  pointing 
out  that  the  meandering  brook,  and  the 
church  upon  the  hill  hard  by,  gave  an  effect 
of  grouping  by  no  means  geometrical. 

Knopf  won  Roland  over  to  his  plan  of 
building  a  music-hall  forthwith* 

So  there  was  perpetual  interest  and  va- 
riety about  the  life  at  Mattenheim. 

When  they  came  home  from  the  fields, 
the  manufactories,  the  mines,  or  the  domain, 
they  could  see  it  at  once  in  Frau  Weid- 
mannes lace,  if  slie  had  had  a  letter  from 
America. 

Doctor  Fritz  wrote  often;  but  their  great- 
est pleasure  was  when  Lilian  wrote  also. 

Roland's  interest  in  Lilian  was  stimu- 
lated and  enhanced  in  two  ways.  Prince 
Valerian  liked  particularly  to  congratulate 
Roland  on  cherishing  an  early  love  without 
losing  his  manly  energies.  Knopf  had  a 
poet's  deep  delight  in  being  the  secret  con- 
fidant of  so  romantic  a  love. 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  LOST  ORGAN-TONES. 

Mattenheim  was  the  seat  of  a  hearty 
Rhenish  hospitality.  There  were  almost 
always  visitors  in  the  house.  The  Banker 
came,  and  was  rejoiced  to  find  Roland  so 
busy  and  cheerful.  Professor  Crutius  came, 
and  made  friendly  overtures  to  Roland ;  but 
the  latter  said,  — 

"  You  cannot  want  my  friendship." 

The  information  brought  by  Crutius  con- 
cerning the  state  of  affairs  in  the  New 
World  gave  rise  to  many  an  animated  dis- 
cussion on  the  great,  decisive,  protracted 
struggle  between  freedom  and  slavery  ap- 
parently impending  there.  Crutius  could 
corroborate  from  his  own  observation  the 


statement,  that  the  Southern  States  were 
abundantly  provided  with  disciplined  offi- 
cers ;  for  in  the  military  school  at  West 
Point,  where  he  had  formerly  been  a  teacher, 
there  were  many  more  Southern  than 
Northern  students.  If  the  Union  succumbed, 
if,  as  was  very  possible,  the  slaveholders 
should  conquer,  the  cause  of  freedom  was 
wounded  to  the  core.  Not  only  would  men 
lose  their  faith,  but  the  cause  itself  would 
be  injured ;  who  knew  how  deeply  or  for 
how  long  a  time  ? 

Soon  after  Professor  Crutius  departure, ' 
a  kind  of  dulness  and  dejection  was  observ- 
able in  Roland.  He  did  what  was  required 
of  him ;  but  he  wore,  for  hours  together,  a 
fixed  and  hard  expression.  Neither  to 
Weidmann  nor  to  Eric  did  he  reveal  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind.  To  Knopf  alone 
he  confessed  his  anxieties,  making  the  lat- 
ter promise  that  he  would  tell  no  one  else. 

Roland  had  learned  that  Dr.  Fritz  was 
his  father's  bitterest  foe  ;  he  had  also  acci- 
dentally heard  Crutius  tell  Weidmann,  that 
he  had  no  doubt  Sonnenkamp  was  one  of 
the  most  zealous  of  the  Southern  leaders, 
and  would  take  an  active  part  in  the  war. 

Like  a  smothered  fire  which  suddenly 
sends  up  countless  tongues  of  flame,  so  did 
all  Roland's  anguish  revive.  Anguish  for 
his  father's  deeds,  for  his  flight  and  the 
elopement  of  Bella  while  his  mother  yet 
lived,  for  his  mother's  death  and  his  own 
inheritance  of  sorrow  —  all  these  several 
pains  were  blended  confusedly  within  him, 
and  his  one  hope  of  deliverance  seemed  an- 
nihilated. Lilian  is  the  child  of  one  of  his 
father's  most  determined  enemies,  and,  if 
forced  to  decide,  can  he  take  the  field 
against  his  father  ? 

Roland  became  desperate.  Is  there  any 
thing  like  a  righteous  moral  order  in  the 
affairs  of  this  world  ?  No :  all  is  chaos  and 
barbarism. 

Knopf  knew  not  how  to  comfort  him,  and 
found  it  hard  to  keep  his  own  promise  of 
secrecy. 

One  day,  a  bright,  cold,  bracing  winter 
day,  Weidmann  crossed  the  river  to  close 
a  contract  for  the  supply  of  railway  sleep- 
ers, and  took  Roland  with  him. 

On  their  return,  they  found  the  Rhine 
full  of  floating  ice.  The  bells  were  ringing 
in  the  valley  and  on  the  hills ;  the  sunset- 
glow  in  the  heavens  spread  in  strange 
waves  of  light  over  a  background  of  pale 
green  sky.  Griffin  stood  in  the  prow  of 
the  boat,  looking  out  upon  the  landscape ; 
and  as  they  made  their  way,  the  boatmen 
pushing  aside  the  blocks  of  ice,  Roland  said 
suddenly,  — 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON   THE  RHINE. 


"  It  was  just  such  a  day,  just  such  an 
evening,  when  Washington  crossed  the  Del- 
aware." 

He  said  no  more.  Weidmann  divined 
that  Roland  was  wondering  why  Washing- 
ton had  not  abolished  slavery  immediately 
on  the  close  of  the  war ;  but  he  turned  the 
subject  aside,  saying  that  he  thought  it 
one  of  the  finest  traits  in  the  great  Wash- 
ington's character,  that  he  was  so  ready  to 
be  convinced  of  an  error. 

Roland  was  startled.  What  might  that 
mean  ? 

Weidmann  continued,  "I  have  left  you 
to  yourself,  R,oland  ;  but  now  I  will  tell  you 
the  state  of  your  mind.  You  are  involved 
in  doubt  and  despair;  but  you  are  no  strong 
man  unless  you  rise  above  them." 

The  young  man's  eyes  dilated,  and  Weid- 
mann continued,  — 

"  Two  things  are  to  be  noted.  In  the 
first  place,  you  have  ceased  to  believe  that 
the  world  is  under  the  dominion  of  moral 
law,  you  have  lost  your  faith  in  that  Su- 
preme Being  whom  we,  as  well  as  the 
Priests,  call  God ;  and,  secondly,  you  be- 
lieve" (and  this  is  worse  still),  —  you  be- 
lieve that  you  must  take  upon  yourself  the 
expiation  of  sins  which  you  never  com- 
mitted. You  dread  the  inevitable  conse- 
quences entailed  by  every  earthly  event, 
and  are  confused  by  your  fears." 

Roland  gazed  wonderingly  at  the  man 
who  thus  calmly  and  deliberately  spoke  out 
his  own  inmost  thought. 

Weidmann  continued,  — 

"  On  the  one  hand,  you  deny  the  opera- 
tion of  eternal  laws ;  on  the  other,  you  fear 
it.  Now  look  at  these  masses  of  ice  in  the 
river.  Do  you  care  to  learn  something  of 
that  immeasurable  and  all-pervading  wis- 
dom whiefc  interrupts  the  laws  of  Nature 
when  their  strict,  logical  consequences  would 
involve  the  destruction  of  the  world?  " 

"  Oh,  if  that  were  so !  If  I  might  but 
learn  it ! " 

"  Well,  then,  stop  there.  Do  you  know 
what  changes  regularly  take  place  in  bodies 
as  they  become  warmer  or  colder  ?  " 

"  Heat  expands,  and  renders  them  lighter. 
Cold  contracts,  and  makes  them  heavier." 

M  Is  it  the  same  with  water  ?  " 

**  I  think  so." 

"  No,  it  is  not.  If  ice  were  heavier  than 
water,  it  would  sink,  and  the  streams  would 
freeze  from  the  bottom  upward.  There 
suddenly  we  have  a  deviation,  an  exception 
to  the  so-called  stern  and  implacable  law  of 
Nature.  Water  attains  its  utmost  weight 
and  density  at  a  temperature  of  38°.  75 
Fahrenheit.    Beyond  this  point,  it  grows 


lighter,  and  expands.  And  I  tell  you  I  do 
not  comprehend  how  a  man  knowing  this 
can  persist  in  denying  God.  For  God  is 
here.  Here  is  no  mere  blind,  self-regula- 
tive, natural  law.  Here  is  the  free  Genius 
of  the  Universal.  Here  is  Wisdom.  Ob- 
serve, if  solidified  water  went  on  increasing 
in  Weight,  and  streams  froze  from  beneath 
upward,  the  river-beds  would  remain  undis- 
turbed until  the  spring-thaws.  And  do  you 
understand  what  the  consequences  would 
be?" 

"  Certainly :  the  fish  would  all  die." 

"  Even  so.  Here  is  the  wisdom  of  God. 
Here  is  the  Deity  who  modifies  the  law  of 
Nature  for  the  preservation  of  his  creatures. 
Our  God  no  longer  towers  aloft  above  the 
waters  and  their  laws.  He  lives  and  works 
within  the  waters.  The  law  of  Nature  is 
broken  that  Nature  may  be  preserved. 
There  are  no  more  visible  miracles ;  but  all 
life,  beyond  a  certain  point,  subsists  by  a 
miracle,  —  the  miracle  of  Genius.  The 
very  surface  of  the  earth,  whereon  we  plant 
and  build,  is  such  a  natural  miracle.  Our 
globe  is  molten  fire  inside,  and  the  crust  re- 
mains cool  above  it.   Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  do." 

"  And  now,  my  son,  you  have  not  to  suffer 
and  repent  and  make  atonement  under  some 
iron  law  of  Nature,  because  the  man  wljp 
was  your  father  sinned.  You  are  free. 
Least  of  all  creatures,  is  man  the  helpless 
subject  of  natural  law.  He  is  lord  of  his 
fate.  Look  up  !  The  world  is  very  bright, 
and  this  whole,  vast,  beauteous  world  is  full 
of  God.  Let  the  bell-ringers,  yonder, 
understand  and  address  him  after  their  own 
fashion.  It  is  not  ours.  The  churches  are 
but  little  chambers  in  the  great  temple  of 
the  universe.  Let  no  man,  in  my  presence, 
restrict  the  Highest  to  one  revelation  and 
one  mode  of  worship.  God,  the  great,  the 
holy,  is  everywhere.  It  is  impossible  not  to 
find  him.  We  have  him  here,  out  under 
the  broad  arch  of  heaven,  and  we  have 
him  in  our  own  hearts.  He  who  thus  feels 
the  breath  of  the  Infinite  upon  him  —  he 
lives  a  holy  Ike.  Come  to  my  heart,  my 
son  !  You  have  wrestled  manfully  !  You 
are  saved !  " 

Roland  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of 
this  man,  and  kissed  his  garment,  and  wept 
in  the  fulness  of  his  heart. 

It  was  night  when  they  disembarked ;  but 
within  and  around  Roland  all  was  ineffably 
bright.  A  new  man  stepped  upon  the 
shore. 

Roland  and  Weidmann  walked  home  in 
silence. 

With  a  feeling  of  release,  as  if  the  evil 


5k20 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


spirit  which  possessed  him  had  been  exor- 
cised by  a  spell,  Roland  entered  the  house 
With  Weidmann,  lie  stood  at  the  window, 
gazing  long  into  the  starlit  .heaven,  and 
then  wrote  a  letter  to  Manna.  Out  of  an 
overflowing  heart,  he  told  her  that  to-day 
he  had  found  the  Highest  —  a  trust,  a  faith, 
a  rest,  such  as  he  had  never  believed  pos- 
sible.   But  he  could  not  finish  the  letter. 

He  sought  Eric,  and  begged  that  he 
would  go  back  with  him  to  Villa  Eden. 

Eric  understood  him;  and  the  next  day 
they  departed  together. 

It  was  a  happy  coining  home,  when  Eric 
and  Roland  arrived  at  the  Villa. 

They  found  the  ladies  tranquil  and  happy. 
Manna  beamed  with  a  twofold  rapture. 
Her  brother  and  her  lover  had  come  ;  and 
both  brought  strength  with  them  and  sub- 
stantial invigoration. 

They  had  much  to  tell  one  another  ;  yet, 
when  the  first  greetings  were  over,  they 
reverted  to  higher  and  more  general  themes. 
All  were  struck  with  surprise,  that  Manna 
should  have  a  story  so  like  Roland's  to  tell. 

Professor  Einsiedel  had  several  excep- 
tions' to  take  to  Roland's  communication; 
but  he  stifled  them.  The  youth  might 
some  time  advance  another  step  ;  still  it  was 
needful  for  him  to  have  taken  this. 
_  To  the  story  of  Manna's  experience  he 
listened  with  satisfaction.  He  could  re- 
flect that  he  had  helped  to  establish  her 
self-dependence. 

Sitting  with  her  hand  in  Eric's,  Manna 
told  her  tale. 

"It  was  hard  for  me  to  forego  the  old 
sacred  consolations.  Whenever  I  went  to 
church,  I  thought  of  you  and  of  myself. 
The  strong,  tremulous  swell  of  the  organ 
speaks  so  directly  to  the  heart.  Those 
tones  are  lost  to  you  and  me.  You  have 
told  me  that  your  friends  used  to  deride 
you  as  a  sentimentalist,  because  you  could 
not  overcome  the  longing  in  your  soul  for 
those  organ-tones ;  and  now  that  same  de- 
sire awoke  within  me  when  I  thought  of 
you.  But  'tis  vain  !  It  must  be  enough 
for  us  that  the  realm  of  music  and  of  feel- 
ing is  still  vast  and  wide,  without  the  strains 
of  the  church-organ.  I  cling  to  those  noble 
words,  '  My  temple  are  ye.'  If  the  human 
soul  has  become  the  temple  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  we  need  no  visible  temple." 

A  spirit  of  consecration  hovered  over 
them  as  they  were  now  assembled  in  the 
vine-clad  house.  They  felt  that  they  were 
members  of  the  communion  which  has  no 
name. 

When  Eric  visited  the  little  town,  he  was 
informed  by  the  cooper,  now,  mine  host  of 


the  "  Carp,"  that  the  comedy-writer  had 
wanted  to  make  a  carnival  play  out  of  Son- 
nenkamp's  story,  and  bring  it  out  in  the 
market-place  ;  but  that  he  himself  had  not 
favored  it,  and  they  were  going  to  repre- 
sent a  nobility-mill  instead.  Commoners 
in  front  were  to  be  thrust  in  above,  and 
noblemen  with  weapons  and  shields  were  to 
come  out  below,  on  the  back  side. 

He  begged  Eric  to  be  present  at"  the  car- 
nival performance  next  day ;  but  Eric  was 
not  in  the  mood. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  FULL  HOUSE  AND  FULL  DAYS. 

On  the  following  day  came '  the  Major, 
and  Fräulein  Milch,  and  Lina  with  her  be- 
trothed. 

It  was  settled,  that,  if  the  snow  remained, 
they  were  all  to  have  a  sleigh-ride  to  Mat- 
tenheim ;  for  they  wished  to  say  good-by 
to  Prince  Valerian,  who  was  soon  to  return 
home. 

It  was  a  day  of  domestic  happiness  and 
cheer. 

Manna  said  repeatedly,  that  she  had  often 
wondered  why  they  should  have  imposed 
this  separation  upon  themselves  ;  but  she 
now  understood  that  it  was  better  so. 

Fortune  smiled  upon  them.  They  went 
to  Mattenheim  in  several  large  sleighs  ;  and, 
on  their  arrival,  Knopf  took  his  young 
friend,  Roland,  aside,  and  gave  him  a  pri- 
vate letter  from  Lilian. 

"  No  one  else  knew  why  Roland  was  so 
extravagantly  gay ;  but  Knopf  smiled  quietly 
to  himself. 

Manna  and  the  Professorin  were  cordially 
received  by  Frau  Weidmann  and  her  daugh- 
ters-in-law. It  refreshed  the  htiart  to  see 
how  full  and  rich  at  every  stage  of  exist- 
ence was  the  home-life  at  Mattenheim. 

While  Lina  expressed  her  especial  satis- 
faction in  the  fact,  that  here  at  Mattenheim 
one  had  five  good  meals  a  day,  and  insisted 
upon  it  that  love  sharpened  the  appetite, 
the  ladies  from  Villa  Eden  thoroughly  en- 
joyed -a  glimpse  into  Frau  Weidmann  's 
housekeeping  arrangements. 

The  Professorin  had  known  her  in  her 
early  years,  and  remembered  what  a  fine 
appearance  had  been  made  by  this  tall 
lady,  who  now  always  wore  a  huge  pair  of 
spectacles.  She,  Manna,  and  Aunt  Clau- 
dine,  were  moved  to  reflection  and  self- 
examination,  as  they  beheld  the  woman's 
active  life.  All  her  household  were  busily 
employed,  and  yet  it  was  perfectly  quiet 
and  orderly ;   and  Frau  Weidmann  dis- 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON   THE  RHINE. 


521 


charged  her  round  of  duties  without  tor- 
menting herself  by  needless  anxiety.  She 
was  proud  to  show  the  ladies  her  whole 
house,  and  particularly  her  great  preserve- 
jars,  containing  provision  not  only  for  the 
various  branches  of  her  own  family,  but  for 
the  poor  who  have  no  forethought.  She 
frankly  complained  that  she  had  not  time 
enough  for  self-culture,  but  said  smilingly, 
that  it  was  like  the  question  of  driving  the 
birds  away  from  her  garden  :  she  must  either 
forego  their  singing,  or  good  berries  and 
lettuce,  as  it  was  impossible  to  have  both. 

Manna  learned  from  Frau  Weidmann 
many  particulars  of  Pranken's  life ;  of  his 
bearing  during  his  short  stay  at  Matten- 
heim, as  well  as  the  facts  generally  known 
at  the  capital. 

It  had  been  painful  to  Manna  to  be  ob- 
liged to  deal  so  harshly  with  Pranken ;  for 
he  had  shown  himself  kind  and  good,  both 
to  her  father  and  herself  :  but  she  was  now 
relieved  from  this  trouble  also. 

The  ladies  of  Villa  Eden  were  not  a  little 
surprised,  however,  to  hear  at  Mattenheim 
of  the  great  commotion  in  the  New  World ; 
for  papers  and  despatches  had  come  with 
Lilian's  letter  from  America,  and  Weid- 
mann could  not  withhold  from  them  his  con- 
viction that  the  new  year  would  bring  the 
great  crisis  of  the  century,  perhaps  of  all 
modern  history.  Were  it  possible  to  break 
up  the  Union,  and  to  elevate  slavery,  which 
had  been  tolerated  hitherto  as  a  species  of 
smuggling,  into  a  prominent  article  of  state- 
policy,  tne  cause  of  freedom  and  humanity, 
for  which  they  were  all  laboring,  would  be 
so  fearfully  injured  and  impeded,  that  the 
petty  efforts  of  individuals  would  seem  of 
no  account. 

Relief  from  this  dark  apprehension  was 
experienced  by  all  the  company,  as  Weid- 
mann read  aloud  a  passage  from  his 
nephew's  letter. 

Doctor  Fritz  wrote,  — 

"  Surpassing  all  others  in  the  greatness 
and  majesty  of  his  bearing,  bright  as  the 
brightest  example  of  classic  times,  we  have 
the  noble  Seward :  and  Germans  ought 
especially  to  honor  him,  for  he  has  publicly 
declared,  that,  wherever  the  Germans  go, 
it  is  their  task  to  clear  the  way  for  liberty, 
and  that  the  true  Germanic  spirit  is  'the 
spirit  of  freedom  and  toleration.  This  man, 
who  had  been  named  as  a  Presidential  can- 
didate along  with  Lincoln,  and  even  before, 
when  he  saw  that  Lincoln's  chances  were 
better  than  his  own,  resolved  that  there 
should  be  no  split  in  the  Republican  vote, 
and  became  a  most  zealous  agitator  in  Lin- 
coln's behalf." 


Weidmann  paused,  adding  the  remark 
that  Prince  Valerian,  who  was  now  leaving 
for  his  native  land,  would  there  find  a  simi- 
lar state  of  transition. 

The  last  remark  was  lost  upon  Manna, 
who  said  to  Eric  in  'an  undertone,  — 

"  Oh,  our  father  !  Do  you  not  think  that 
he  will  take  part  in  this  struggle  ?  " 

"  I  do  :  and  that,  too,  we  must  bear." 

The  Prince  departed.  At  the  last  mo- 
ment, Lina  and  Eric  had  to  sing,  "  We  meet 
again."  He  deeply  regretted  that  he  could 
not  take  Knopf  with  him ;  but  the  latter  had 
promised  Lilian  that  he  would  come  to 
America,  and  do  nomething  there.  He  did 
not  specify  what  it  was  to  be. 

After  the  Prince  had  left,  they  drew  closer 
together.  Roland,  Manna,  and  Eric  were 
sitting  in  Roland's  room  when  the  latter 
said,  — 

"  Manna,  if  it  comes  to  war  in  our  native 
land,  I  shall  go  there.  I  have  decided,  and 
no  one  can  deter  me." 

The  words  were  upon  Manna's  lips, 
"  And  what  if  our  father  is  fighting  on  the 
other  side  ? "  but  she  checked  herself,  and 
only  said,  — 

"  If  you  go  to  the  New  World,  I  shall  go 
with  you."  , 

"  And  then  Eric  will  go  too.  I  have 
talked  with  Herr  Weidmann  about  it.  He 
has  consented ;  and  the  thing  which  he 
sanctions  is,  beyond  question,  right  and 
safe.  But  I  have  promised  him  that  I  will 
not  go  until  he  says,  '  Now  is  the  time.'  " 

Manna  was  comforted.  She  saw  that 
her  brother's  life  was  in  safe  keeping. 

On  their  way  home,  Aunt  Claudine  ex- 
pressed the  general  feeling,  when  she 
said,  — 

"  It  seems  to  me  as  if  these  days  had 
been  all  music  and  feasting." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Lina ;  "  one  could  eat  there 
enough  for  the  whole  year." 

And  they  drove  on  their  way  laughing. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
FETTERED  HANDS  UPLIFTED. 

The  great  law  of  our  time,  that  of  the 
unity  of  all  existence,  asserted  itself  with 
peculiar  and  perpetual  force  in  the  busy 
home  at  Mattenheim.  A  man  of  mature 
years  had  deliberately  concentrated  his 
thoughts  upon  the  movement  in  the  New 
World ;  and  the  destiny  of  a  youth  was 
bound  up  in  the  same. 

Papers  and  despatches  from  America 
came  thicker  and  faster. 


522 


THE   COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


They  lived  a  twofold  life,  immersed  in 
pressing  and  manifold  business  here,  but  in- 
tent, meanwhile,  upon  the  sharp  crisis  so 
rapidly  approaching  in  a  remote  quarter  of 
the  world. 

Roland  devoured  the  letters  and  journals 
in  which  the  so-called  slavery-question  was 
discussed.  Doctor  Fritz  wrote  doubtfully 
of  Lincoln.  The  man's  nature  was  so  sim- 
ple, and  his  faith  in  men's  goodness  so 
thorough,  that  he  feared  he  would  not  be 
decided  enough  with  the  chivalry  of  the 
South.  • 

For  the  first  time,  Roland  heard  the 
slaveholders  called  chivalry  ;  and  Weidmann 
declared  that  it  was  no  mere  form  of  speech, 
but  a  perfectly  explicit  term.  The  slave- 
owners wanted  to  live  merely  for  the  nobler 
passions,  as  they  were  called :  other  men 
must  toil  for  their  subsistence,  and  even  for 
their  luxuries.  This  is  the  true  feudal 
spirit,  which  looks  upon  labor  as  something 
humiliating  and  disgraceful,  whereas,  in 
reality,  man's  only  true  nobleness  consists  in 
labor. 

Two  books  exercised  a  powerful  influence 
upon  Roland's  mind.  He  read  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  "  for  the  first  time,  and  wept 
over  it,  but  presently  roused  himself,  and 
asked,  — 

"  How  is  this  ?  Shall  we  point  the 
scourged  and  oppressed  to  a  reward  in  the 
next  world,  where  the  master  will  be  pun- 
ished and  the  slave  elevated  ?  But  who 
can  compensate  him  for  the  torment  he  has 
endured  here  ?  Is  it  not  as  it  was  with 
Claus  ?  Who  could  indemnify  him  for  the 
captivity  he  had  to  undergo  before  he  was 
pronounced  innocent  ?  " 

Very  different  was  the  effect  produced 
upon  the  young  man's  mind  by  a  book  of 
Friedrich  Kapp's,  entitled  "  Slavery  in 
America,"  which  had  grown  up  out  of  a 
dense  mass  of  previously  accumulated  ma- 
terial, and,  by  a  remarkable  coincidence, 
appeared  at  precisely  this  time. 

At  first,  Roland  could  not  comprehend 
how  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  give  so 
clear  and  lifelike  a  picture  of  facts  so  re- 
volting. When  he  came  to  the  ensuing 
passage,  he  Avept  aloud. 

"  The  owners  of  the  slave-ships  are  al- 
most always  foreigners,  —  Spaniards,  Por- 
tuguese, and,  alas  !  "  here  followed  a  dash 
that  was  like  a  dajr^er  to  the  reader,  —  alas  ! 
even  Germans." 

Everywhere,  by  day  and  by  night,  Ro- 
land talked  of  what  was  agitating  his  soul ; 
and,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt  something  like 
distrust  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  He  learned, 
indeed,  that  Franklin  was  president  of  the 


Abolition  Society  in  Philadelphia,  but,  also, 
that  he,  like  the  other  great  heroes  of  the 
American  War  for  Independence,  in  his 
earnest  desire  for  unanimity  at  the  time  the 
Union  was  founded,  had  trusted  to  the 
expectation  that  slavery  would  be  extin- 
guished within  a  lifetime  by  the  mere  in- 
crease of  free  labor. 

This  hope  had  proved  deceptive,  and  Ro- 
land recalled  with  anguish  that  remark  of 
Theodore  Parker's,  — 

"  All  the  great  charters  of  humanity  have 
been  written  in  blood." 

Often  did  Roland  stand  thoughtfully  be- 
fore a  picture  of  Ary  Scheffer's,  which  hung 
in  the  large  sitting-room.  It  represented 
the  adoration  of  Jesus ;  and  there  was  a 
negro  in  it,  stretching  out  his  fettered 
arms  toward  the  redeeming  and  consoling 
Saviour,  with  a  most  affecting  expression. 
For  two  thousand  years,  this  race  had  been 
extending  its  fettered  hands  toward  the 
redemptive  thought  of  mankind.  Why  had 
this  lasted  so  long  ? 

To  Weidmann,  Roland  confessed  what 
was  weighing  on  his  heart ;  and  Weidmann 
succeeded  in  changing  his  sorrow  into  joy, 
that  the  time  had  now  come  in  which  these 
things  would  have  an  end.  He  was  pecu- 
liarly severe  upon  those,  who,  like  senti- 
mental criminals,  represent  sin  and  crime 
as  evil,  and  yet  say,  "  There  is  no  help  for  it. 
So  it  has  been,  and  so  it  must  be." 

Goeliiie's  verses  now  occurred  to  Roland, 
and  he  repeated  them  to  Weidmann,  who 
said,  — 

"  It  is  the  free  man's  inherited  privilege 
to  see  absolute  perfection  in  no  man.  Like 
Goethe,  the  Americans  boast  in  having  no 
mediajval  conditions  to  overcome  ;  but  they 
have  inherited  slavery,  which  many  even 
declare  to  be  the  natural  condition  of  the 
laboring  classes." . 

Weidmann  gave  Roland  Abraham  Lin- 
coln's speech  at  the  Cooper  Institute  in 
New  York. 

Roland  was  requested  to  read  it  aloud ; 
but  his  voice  choked,  and  his  utterance  was 
painfully  agitated,  when  he  came  to  the 
words,  — 

"  Were  we  even  to  withhold  our  votes, 
Republicans,  you  may  be  sure  the  Demo- 
crats would  not  be  satisfied.  We  could  not 
stop  there.  We  must  leave  off  calling  sla- 
very a  wrong,  and  justify  it  loudly  and  un- 
conditionally ;  we  must  pull  down  our  Free 
State  Constitutions ;  the  whole  atmos- 
phere must  be  disinfected  from  all  taint  of 
opposition  to  slavery,  before  they  will  cease 
to  believe  that  all  their  troubles  proceed 
from  us. 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


523 


"  And  since  the  Southerners  pretend 
that  slavery  is  a  righteous  institution,  honor- 
able to  mankind,  the  logical  inference  is, 
that  it  ought  universally  to  be  recognized  as 
a  moral  good  and  a  social  blessing,  and 
everywhere  introduced. 

"  Our  sense  of  duty  forbids  such  a 
thought.  And,  if  so,  then  let  us  stand  by 
our  duty  fearlessly  and  effectively.  Let  us 
be  diverted  by  none  of  those  sophistical 
contrivances  wherewith  we  are  so  industri- 
ously plied  and  belabored,  —  contrivances 
such  as  seeking  for  some  middle  ground  be- 
tween the  right  and  wrong,  vain  as  the 
search  for  a  man  who  should  be  neither  a 
living  man  nor  a  dead  man,  —  such  as  a 
policy  of  1  don't  care  '  on  a  question  about 
which  all  true  men  do  care,  —  such  as 
Union  appeals  beseeching  true  Union  men 
to  yield  to  Disunionists,  reversing  the  di- 
vine rule,  and  calling  not  sinners  but  the 
righteous  to  repentance. 

"Neither  let  us  be  slandered  from  our 
duty  by  false  accusations  against  us ;  nor 
frightened  from  it  by  menaces  of  destruc- 
tion to  the  Government,  nor  of  dungeons  to 
ourselves.  Let  us  have  faith  that  right 
makes  might,  and,  in  that  faith,  let  us,  to 
the  end,  dare  to  do  our  duty  as  we  under- 
stand it." 

Tears  rose  to  Roland's  eyes.  He  glanced 
up  at  the  picture  where  the  slave  was 
stretching  out  his  fettered  hands ;  and 
within  him  rose  the  words,  "  Thou  art  free." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
IN  THE  BOND  OF  BROTHERHOOD. 

"  The  bees  we  brought  from  Europe  arc 
flying  out  into  the  spring  air,"  wrote  Lilian 
from  New  York. 

At  Mattenheim,  also,  spring  was  close  at 
hand.  Out-door  work  became  pressing ; 
sunshine  and  hail  followed  one  another  in 
swift  succession  ;  but  the  buds  were  swell- 
ing, and  verdure  refreshed  the  eye.  In 
the  new  shoots,  or  sleeping  eyes,  as  they  are 
called,  choice  grafts  were  set,  that  the  tree 
henceforward  might  bear  richer  fruit.  The 
same  thing  Avas  to  take  place  elsewhere. 

One  evening,  when  they  were  all  together 
at  Mattenheim,  Weidmann  read  a  letter 
from  Doctor  Fritz,  in  which  he  described 
the  base  league  of  the  so-called  Knights  of 
the  Golden  Circle.  A  network  of  tlieir 
societies  extended  over  all .  the  Southern 
States,  and  they  had  their  accomplices  even 
in  the  North.  * 

They  conducted  a  kind  of  criminal  court 


by  means  of  signs  ;  and  murders  and  secret 
executions  without  number  were  accom- 
plished by  their  means. 

He  added  that  if  one  wanted  to  realize 
the  entire  range  of  man's  capabilities,  both 
for  virtue  and  vice,  he  had  but  to  offset 
against  this  band  a  character  like  Seward's. 

While  they  were  still  pondering  upon  this 
intelligence,  a  letter  with  the  royal  seal  ar- 
rived, containing  expressions  of  high  con- 
sideration for  Weidmann,  together  with  the 
Prince's  request  that  he  would  inform  young 
Sonnenkamp  Banfield  that  no  obstacle 
existed  to  his  entering  the  military  service, 
and  that  especial  pains  would  be  taken  to 
show  the  young  man,  personally,  all  due 
regard." 

"  It  cannot  be,"  said  Roland  with  a  fixed 
look.    "  Too  late  !  " 

He  expressed  his  gratitude,  however,  for 
the  kindness  of  the  Prince,  and  added  with 
an  accent  of  deep  pain,  that  it  was  a  com- 
fort to  know  that  the  privilege  of  fellowship 
was  restored  to  him. 

"  You  shall  have  one  of  a  different  kind," 
said  Weidmann.  "  You  shall  be  received 
with  your  brother  and  friend,  the  Herr 
Captain,  into  our  Order.  Strictly  speaking, 
you  are  too  young ;  but  we  will  show  you 
how  much  we  honor  you," 

In  the  evening,  it  rained  steadily ;  and  as 
Weidmann  lay  beside  the  window,  gazing 
out  upon  the  landscape,  he  called  Roland  to 
his  side,  and  said,  — 

"  These  are  pleasant  hours,  my  son,  in 
which  we  can  look  out  of  the  window,  and 
know  that  the  rain  is  quickening  and  re- 
freshing all  things.  A  spirit  who  has 
awakened  and  refreshed  the  souls  of  many 
men,  a  benefactor  who  has  renovated  the 
being  of  numbers  of  his  fellow-creatures, 
must  experience  in  tranquil  and  elevated 
hours  a  similar  joy.  Rejoice  that  this  hap- 
piness may  be  yours  also.  If  I  am  not 
here  to  welcome  you  back  from  the  war, 
know  that  I  feel  this  on  your  behalf,  and  be 
thankful  for  it." 

"  Is  the  crisis,  then,  so  near  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  have  by  me  a  letter  from  my 
nephew,  and  I  tell  you  that  the  time  has 
come." 

Roland  shuddered.  He  seized  Weid- 
mann's  arm,  and  held  it  fast. 

Weidmann  continued, — 

"  My  nephew  writes,  it  is  true,  that  they 
think  the  war  will  not  last  long ;  and  that 
those  who  have  enlisted  hope  to  return  to 
their  homes  in  a  few  weeks.  I  think  other- 
wise. You  will  be  quite  early  enough  for 
the  great  struggle.  Rejoice  that  you  are 
I  prepared  for  it  beforehand." 


524 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


Roland  hastened  to  Eric  ;  and  the  latter 
said,  — 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  Roland  :  I  go  with 
you !  " 

Adams  approached  them  with  flashing 
eyes,  and  cried,  — 

"  We  will  all  go,  —  all." 

They  embraced  one  another,  as  though 
the  world's  deliverance  had  arrived. 

They  passed  a  sleepless  night ;  and,  on 
the  morrow,  Roland  and  Eric  rode  to  the 
Villa';  They  made  known  their  resolution, 
and  'Manna  responded,  — 

"  I  shall  go  too." 

But  she  gave  Eric  a  look  which  was 
perfectly  intelligible  to  him ;  for  it  said,  "  You 
approve,  then,  of  the  son's  taking  the  field 
against  the  father." 

Eric  told  her  that  he  had  sent  by  way  of 
Paris  a  notice  to  the  Confederate  journal 
which  Sonnenkamp  had  designated,  couched 
in  terms  which  he  alone  would  understand, 
to  the  effect  that  Roland  would  join  the 
land-forces  of  the  Union,  hoping  that  he 
should  not  encounter  his  father,  who  was 
probably  in  the  naval  service. 

Eric  found  it  difficult  to  restrain  Roland, 
and  to  convince  him  that  days  must  elapse 
before  their  departure.  They  went  togeth- 
er to  the  Major,  who  said,  — 

"  It  is  all  right !  Now  you  must  join  ! 
Brother  Weidmann  told  me  long  since  that 
you  were  to  be  initiated  before  engaging  in 
this  philanthropic  struggle.  And  now  let 
me  tell  you  that  our  bond  is  especially 
effective  in  war.  You  will  receive  a  sign ; 
and,  if  you  make  that  sign,  no  enemy,  even 
though  his  weapon  were  raised  against  you, 
can  kill  you  face  to  face ;  and  you  cannot 
kill  any  one  who  gives  you  this  sign.  Yes, 
my  dear  brothers,  I  must  begin  to  call  you 
so,  all  the  good  in  this  world  has  been 
wrought  by  Freemasons  ;  for  those  who  have 
wrought  it  have  all  been  Freemasons  at 
heart,  if  not  in  reality.  But  I'll  say  no 
more.  Brother  Weidmann  will  tell  you  all. 
Now  go !  I  must  be  off  to  the  castle.  It 
has  come  at  last." 

Once  up  at  the  castle,  the  Major  wan- 
dered about,  saying  to  himself,  over  and 
over  again,  — 

"  If  the  Builder  of  all  the  worlds  will 
only  suffer  me  to  hold  together !  I  want 
this  and  one  thing  more,  and  then  I  shall 
be  satisfied  !  " 


Men  are  coming  and  going ;  workmen 
are  hammering ;  the  Major's  long  cher- 
ished wish  is  fulfilled.  There  is  to  be  a 
great  Masonic  celebration  at  the  castle,  and 


what  a  celebration !  Eric,  Roland,  and 
Adams  are  to  be  received  into  the  order. 

From  all  the  surrounding  country,  men 
came  flocking  to  the  castle.  The  Major 
went  with  Roland,  the  Architect  with 
Adams,  the  Banker,  who,  with  his  daughter- 
in-law,  was  visiting  at  Villa  Eden,  accom- 
panied Eric.  At  the  castle,  the  three 
separated,  and  each  was  taken  into  a  room 
by  himself.  Presently  the  Major  came  to 
Roland,  and  took  away  all  the  money  and 
jewelry  he  had  about  him.  Shortly  after, 
men  appeared  who  bandaged  the  eyes  of  each 
of  the  candidates.  They  were  then  con- 
ducted through  long  passages,  up  stairs  and 
down,  until  they  seemed  to  emerge  into  the 
open  air.  At  last,  they  were  told  to  stop, 
and  sternly  reproved  for  venturing  to  in- 
trude here  ;  but  they  remained  firm. 

Roland  was  comforted  by  the  sound  of 
Weidmann's  voice,  although  it  seemed  to 
come  from  a  great  distance.  The  latter 
said  that  their  being  led  blindibld  by 
friends  who  saw,  signified  that  they  must 
learn  to  trust  those  who  were  pledged  to 
afford  them  guidance  and  protection  in  life. 
Voices  now  called  out,  that  it  was  time  to 
removed  the  bandages. 

"  No,"  cried  a  powerful  voice  :  "  Roland, 
I  cannot  admit  you." 

Roland  did  not  know  this  voice.  What 
did  it  mean  ?    What  was  required  of  him  ? 

"  Back,  back !  you  stand  on  the  brink 
of  an  abyss !  "  was  shouted  on  all  sides. 

Roland's  knees  shook.  The  first  voice 
continued,  — 

"  Roland,  are  you  ready  to  renounce  all 
that  you  now  possess,  or  will  ever  call  your 
own,  to  become  naked,  poor,  and  helpless 
as  you  were  by  nature  ?  Will  you  relin- 
quish all  your  wealth,  whether  justly  or 
unjustly  acquired  ?  Speak  !  " 

"  Speak,  speak ! "  cried  a  chorus  of 
voices.    "  Will  you  become  poor  ?  " 

"  Speak  !  "  the  voices  repeated  ;  and  the 
question  was  asked  for  the  third  time,  ;-  Will 
you  renounce  all,  and  become  naked,  poor, 
and  helpless  ?  " 

"  No.    I  will  not !  " 

A  pause  ensued :  then  Weidmann  said  in 
a  re-assuring  tone,  "  And  why  not  ?  " 

"Because  it  is  not  my  duty,  and  I  have 
no  right  to  relinquish  what  was  intrusted 
to  me,  —  to  transfer  my  responsibilities  even 
to  the  highest  and  noblest.  I  am  required 
myself  to  watch  and  work." 

"  Where  is  your  obedience  ?  Can  you 
be  a  soldier,  a  fighter  in  the  cause  of  hu- 
manity, and  not  obey  ?  Do  you  know  what 
obedience  is  ?  " 


THE  COUNTRY-HOU 


SE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


525 


"  I  think  I  do.  I  am  ordered,  for  my 
part  of  the  great  campaign,  to  hold  a  certain 
post,  and  I  pledge  my  life  that  I  will  be 
faithful  without  knowing  why  I  am  stationed 
just  there.  This  is  a  soldier's  duty,  as  I 
understand  it.  But  in  life  it  seems  to  me 
different.  What  right  have  you,  more  than 
another,  to  say,  '  Intrust  your  possessions 
to  us,  that  we  may  dispose  of  them  as  we 
think  fit '  ?  Here  I  stand,  with  I  know  not 
whom  about  me  :  I  only  know  the  voice  of 
my  noble  friend  Weidmann,  and  him  I 
trust.  Wherever  he  is,  I  will  take  my 
place  at  his  side,  and  stand  there  blindfold. 
My  eyes  are  bandaged  ;  but  I  can  look  with- 
in, and  I  know  that  I  am  in  duty  bound, 
according  to  my  strength  and  my  wisdom, 
with  the  free  assistance  of  others,  to  make 
the  best  of  my  life  and  endowments ;  but  I 
will  not  give  myself  and  my  life  away  blind- 
fold. Take  me  back  !  Reject  me  if  I  am 
wrong  ;  but  I  cannot  do  otherwise." 

"  Off  with  the  bandages  !  Off  with  the 
bandages ! "  was  now  vociferated  for  the 
third  time  by  the  whole  assembly. 

The  strains  of  an  organ  were  heard  in 
the  distance.  Roland's  bandage  was  re- 
moved, and  a  veil  thrown  over  his  head, 
that  he  might  not  be  dazzled  by  the  light. 

When  the  veil  was  removed,  he  stood 
with  Eric  on  one  side  and  Adams  on  the 
other. 

Weidmann  spoke  the  words  of  initiation  ; 
and  Roland,  kneeling,  humbly  took  the  oath, 
with  Eric's  hand  resting  on  his  right 
shoulder,  and  Adams's  on  his  left.  Swords 
clashed,  and  in  the  distance  singing  was 
heard  with  an  organ  accompaniment. 

The  powerful  singer  whom  we  heard  at 
Herr  Endlich's  entertainment,  and  at  Wolfs- 
garten,  sang  here  in  the  arched  hall  a  pa- 
thetic air  in  a  rich  bass  voice  ;  and  all  hearts 
were  gently  soothed. 

Roland  arose.  Weidmann  kissed  him, 
and  afterwards  embraced  his  brother  Eric 
on  the  right,  and  his  brother  Adams  on  the 
left.  They  received  the  signs  ;  and  the  so- 
called  sign  of  distress,  in  particular,  moved 
Roland  deeply. 

Eric,  Roland,  and  Adams  were  now  led 
out  of  the  hall,  and  received  back  their 
money  and  jewels,  the  Major  remarking, — 

"  You  did  bravely,  young  —  forgive  me 
—  my  brother  !  " 

On  returning  to  the  hall  they  all  rose ; 
and  Weidmann,  bidding  Roland  and  Eric 
take  Adams's  hand,  began  as  follows,  — 

"  Here,  while  we  clasp  our  dusky  brother 
in  our  arms,  you  see  what  we  are  !  Through 
the  jubilations  of  our  century,  a  sound 
pierces,  which,  in  time  to  come,  shall  be 


heard  no  more  :  it  is  the  sound  of  clash- 
ing chains,  of  the  fetters  wherewith  our 
fellow-men  have  been  bound.  Henceforth, 
these  chains  shall  be  but  an  emblem,  a  mel- 
ancholy symbol.  We  who  are  men,  and 
who  want  to  be  men  fully  and  entirely,  we 
take  one  another  by  the  hand,  and  form  a 
living  chain.  My  brothers,  you  will  be  told, 
and,  perchance,  will  tell  yourselves,  that  our 
Order  is  antiquated,  without  significance  in 
these  modern  times;  but  I  tell  you  it  will 
never  be  antiquated,  never  insignificant,  for 
they  who  are  dedicated  to  the  service  of 
the  free  Spirit  must  ever  hold  one  another 
in  a  living  clasp. 

"  We  know  the  deficiencies  of  our  Order. 
It  is  a  matter  of  great  difficulty  to  found 
an  association  firmly  upon  a  universal 
thought  apart  from  any  historical  basis. 
This  is  our  principal  disadvantage  as  com- 
pared with  the  Church.  Hence  enthusiasts 
and  hypocrites  seek  for  an  historical  founda- 
tion ;  nevertheless,  our  Order  is  the  strong- 
hold of  virtue  ;  and  its  unity  is  doubly 
formidable  in  that  it  is  a  league  of  free  men ; 
for  free  men  will  not  suffer  themselves  to  be 
bound.  Yet  our  league,  were  its  name 
never  mentioned,  would  have  a  most  im- 
portant bearing  upon  the  solution  of  the 
social  problem,  as  it  is  called,  of  which  the 
slavery  question  is  only  a  part.  And  it  is 
the  thing  Ave  want,  not  the  name.  No  de- 
liverance was  ever  wrought  by  mere  calcu- 
lation, and  there  can  be  no  permanent 
effect  produced  without  the  co-operation  of 
love.  The  lust  of  pleasure  and  the  lust  of 
gain  would  seem  to  be  the  essential  charac- 
teristics of  our  time  ;  yet  I,  and  we  all,  pro- 
claim aloud,  Great  is  our  century  !  Europe, 
with  her  ancient  culture  and  her  waning 
nobility,  is  endeavoring  to  lay  all  men  under 
an  obligation  to  labor  :  America  and  Russia, 
to  render  all  labor  free.  Ever  since  I  be- 
held the  great  millennial  wave  bearing  down 
upon  me,  I  have  lived  a  new  and  happy 
life.  I  have  been  filled  with  holy  confi- 
dence ;  and,  all  unseen,  our  league  is  work- 
ing towards  the  same  end. 

"  Two  principles  are  contending  in  this 
world,  egoism  and  humanity.  We  meet 
selfishness  by  benevolence.  The  more  thou 
servest  others  in  love,  the  freer  art  thou. 
The  more  thou  givest  of  thyself,  the  richer 
art  thou.  To  every  man  we  say,  '  First 
free  thyself  from  servitude/  Great  things 
in  this  world  come  from  small  beginnings. 
To  every  one  of  you  and  to  myself  I  say, 
'  Begin  by  abolishing  slavery  in  thyself ! ' 
We  have  all  a  slave  within  us,  a  slave  to  pre- 
cedent, to  inertia,  to  obsequiousness.  Free 
this  slave  within,,  and  then  wilt  thou  be 


526 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


worthy  to  emancipate  the  slaves  around  thee. 
And  now,  my  new  brothers,  consider  this. 
As  the  signs  of  intelligence  which  you  have 
received  are  not  verbal,  but  visible,  sensible 
motions,  as  our  own  mutual  understanding 
supersedes  and  transcends  speech,  so  is  it 
with  the  idea  of  our  Order.  It  is  some- 
thing older  and  broader  than  all  single  re- 
ligious associations.  We  seek  repose  and 
peace  in  labor  and  trade.  To  our  doctrine 
each  may  give  his  own  private  interpreta- 
tion, as  every  man  speaks  in  his  own  pecu- 
liar voice,  which  can  never  be  exactly  imi- 
tated. The  deed  alone,  the  free,  righteous, 
noble  deed,  cannot  be  explained  away,  can- 
not be  misunderstood,  cannot  be  affected  by 
any  individual.  Ours  is  a  brotherhood  of 
noble  deeds." 

Turning  to  Roland  he  said,  — 
"  To  you,  my  young  brother,  much  has 
been  given  ;  and  you  must  say  with  your 
brother  here,  so  rich  in  intellectual  gifts, 
and  this  your  other  brother,  now  armed  for 
free  labor,  '  What  I  am,  and  what  I  have, 
I  have  not  of  myself,  and  so  I  have  it  not 
for  myself.'  Self-sacrifice  is  self-exaltation. 
Your  own  highest  good  is  the  good  of  the 
whole  world.  What  you  do,  do  not  with 
the  hope  of  reward  from  another ;  but  be 
yourself  your  own  reward.  A  revolution  is 
now  taking  place  in  the  minds  of  men,  such 
as  there  must  have  been  wrought  when  they 
first  learned  the  fact  of  the  motion  of  the 
planet  on  which  we  live.  Mankind,  who 
had  always  known  slavery,  and  believed 
that  its  continuance  was  right,  were  long 
unable  to  conceive  a  different  state  of  things ; 
and  it  was  thus  with  the  authors  of  that 
great  sacred  book.  I  say,  mankind  could 
not  conceive  of  labor  as  other  than  a  dis- 
grace, a  curse  pronounced  upon  the  race. 
But  now,  not  by  any  new  and  external  reve- 
lation, but  through  a  free  and  natural  unfold- 
ing of  knowledge,  we  are  enabled  to  get  be- 
yond this  view.  A  new  age  is  beginning. 
Labor  is  no  longer  a  disgrace,  but  an  honor ; 
no  longer  a  curse,  but  a  blessing.  No  for- 
mal religion  can  sanctify  labor ;  for  it  be- 
longs not  to  the  other  world,  but  eternally 
to  this.  Were  a  medal  to  be  struck  to 
commemorate  our  century,  it  should  bear 
upon  the  face  the  symbol  of  free  labor,  and 
upon  the  reverse,  that  of  the  love  of  nature. 
Neither  has  yet  been  represented  by  art. 
Our  idea  has  not  yet  attained  to  many- 
hued  loveliness,  and  to  a  picturesque  variety ; 
for  philanthropy  is  colorless  like  pure  light. 
Walk  therefore  in  the  light,  and  die  for  the 
love  of  your  kind.  You  have  lived  in  the 
light ;  live  ever  so,  and  in  the  eternal  ideas 
of  self-sacrifice  and  brotherly  love." 

Deeply  moved,  Eric  made  a  brief  reply. 


Roland,  too,  was  called  upon,  but  could 
only  say,  — 

"  My  brother  and  teacher  has  expressed 
all  that  I  feel." 

Adams  also  offered  a  few  words.  He 
would  try  to  show  himself  worthy  the  hon- 
orable brotherhood  which  had  been  con- 
ferred upon  him. 

The  three  now  seated  themselves  in  the 
ranks  of  the  brotherhood,  and  took  part  in 
the  transaction  of  some  urgent  and  exist- 
ing business. 

With  ready  and  practised  eloquence,  the 
Major's  host,  the  Grand  Master,  informed 
them  that  the  Pope  had  condemned  all  Ma- 
sonic leagues ;  and  he  read  a  protest  to  be 
adopted  by  the  present  lodge. 

Weidmann  asked  if  any  brother  desired 
to  offer  any  comment,  and  the  Doctor  came 
forward,  and  said,  — 

"  I  move  the  rejection  of  this  protest,  and 
also  the  open  acknowledgment  of  that  no- 
toriously false  principle  with  which  we  are 
reproached  in  the  bull  of  excommunication. 
I  find  Masonry  as  wordy  at  home  as  it  is 
dastardly  abroad ;  for  dastardly  it  is,  not 
to  be  perfectly  open.  It  is  all  true  !  We 
recognize  and  acknowledge  man  to  be  mor- 
ally complete,  independent  of  any  positive 
church  ;  not  necessarily  hostile  to  the  church, 
but  independent  of  it.  But  this  prevari- 
cating, and  ducking  under  ecclesiastical 
phrases,  this  spiritless  sailing  under  false 
colors,"  — 

"  A  little  less  vehemently,  if  you  please," 
observed  Weidmann. 

Quietly,  but  firmly,  the  Doctor  continued  : 

"  I  move  that  the  protest  be  rejected." 

The  Grand  Master  gazed  helplessly  about. 
He,  with  all  his  honors  on  his  head,  bring 
forward  a  proposition,  and  not  have  it  ac- 
cepted !  — 

The  Doctor  at  length  begged  Eric,  as 
one  not  yet  bound  by  the  traditions  preval- 
ing  here,  to  explain  his  meaning  more  pre- 
cisely. 

Eric  arose  and  said,  that,  though  strongly 
inclined  to  agree  with  the  Doctor,  he  was 
not  quite  sure  where  right  lay.  He  could 
only  permit  himself  to  quote  the  words  of  a 
noble  spirit  now  passed  away.  Clodwig 
had  seen,  as  in  a  vision  upon  his  death-bed, 
the  combatants  of  the  present  day  dividing 
into  two  hostile  camps,  one  of  which  ral- 
lied around  the  Pope,  the  other  around  the 
standard  of  free  thought.  A  third  party, 
agreeing  partly  with  the  former,  and  partly 
with  the  latter,  he  thought  impossible. 

The  protest  was  rejected ;  but  the  Doc- 
tor's proposition,  openly  to  acknowledge  the 
justice  of  the  Papal  animadversions,  was 
also  set  aside.    At  the  close  of  the  celebra- 


THE    COUNTRY-HOUSE    ON    THE  RHINE. 


527 


tion  the  brethren  sat  down  to  a  banquet. 
Roland  was  once  more  welcomed  by  the 
Banker  with  peculiar  heartiness. 

The  youth  asked  the  Major  in  a  low 
voice,  why  Professor  Einsiedel  and  Knopf 
were  not  members  of  the  order. 

"  They  are  natural  members  of  the  asso- 
ciation, answered  the  Major. 

As  they  left  the  castle  by  the  light  of  the 
full  moon,  Roland  said  to  the  Major,  — 

"  To  have  lived  a  day  like  this  makes 
death  seem  easy." 


"  I  say  with  Claus,"  answered  the  Major, 
"  we  won't  look  for  death  till  the  very 
last." 

And  so  their  high-strung  mood  passed 
over  into  merriment. 

On  the  following  morning,  the  Major 
begged  for  the  Banker's  advice  on  a  matter 
bearing  decisively  upon  his  life ;  and  in 
which  the  Banker  could  assist  him  more 
than  any  one  else. 

The  Banker  declared  himself  ready  to 
render  any  assistance. 


528 


THE   COUNTRY-IIOUSE  ON  THE  EHINE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  VOLUNTARY    SACRIFICE    AND    A  FULFIL- 
MENT  OF  DESTINY. 

Flowers  of  all  sorts  were  blooming  in 
the  conservatories,  buds  upon  the  artisti- 
cally trained  espalier  trees  were  opening, 
and  the  park  was  resounding  with  songs 
of  the  birds,  restlessly  chirping  and  Hying 
about  at  this  time  of  wooing  and  mating. 

Never  before  had  Eric  enjoyed  the  dawn 
of  spring  so  intensely  as  now.  He  was 
filled  with  the  joy  of  love,  and  the  heavy 
burdens  which  Fate  had  laid  upon  him 
seemed  like  an  accident,  a  dream,  which  he 
could  all  at  once  shake  off. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  would  stroll  in 
the  park ;  a  peculiar  feeling  of  joyousness 
would  come  over  him  at  the  thought  that 
Spring  would  soon  reign  over  this,  his  own 
estate.  Why  should  not  these  trees,  these 
meadows,  these  plantations  put  on  new 
bloom  and  verdure,  now  that  they  were 
his  ?  And  while  wondering  whether  it 
woald  really  ever  be  his  lot  to  pass  here  an 
industrious  and  peaceful  life,  he  could  not 
free  himself  from  a  feeling  of  compassion 
for  Sonnenkamp.  The  man  had  planted 
and  fostered  all  this  — where  was  he  now  ? 

Manna  and  the  Professorin  were  walking 
with  the  Banker's  daughter-in-law,  who 
had  been  drawn  thither  by  her  desire  to 
know  Roland's  sister,  and  her  much 
praised  mother-in-law.  The  three  ladies 
had  quickly  formed  a  league  of  friendship, 
based  on  the  foundation  of  a  fine  and  lib- 
eral culture.  Yet,  though  the  inmates  of 
the  Villa  were  so  happy  together,  eacji  one 
harbored  the  restless  longing  to  depart. 

The  ladies  entered  the  conservatory. 

A  wave  of  aromatic  perfumes  floated 
towards  them,  and  flowed  around  them. 
Their  ey«s  were  refreshed  by  the  thousand 
hues  of  the  newly-opened  blossoms. 

The  Professorin  spoke  of  the  rest  she 
should  find  in  watching  over  the  culture  of 
t  he  sc  plants. 

Manna  expressed  her  intention  of  devot- 
ing herself,  in  the  days  that  were  to  come, 
to  botany,  both  theoretical  and  practical. 
The  Banker's  daughter-in-law  promised 
soon  to  do  the  same. 

With  a  feeling  of  pleasurable  excitement, 
they  sat  in  the  green-house,  where  to-day, 
for  the  first  time,  the  great  windows  had 
been  opened.  Manna  sent  for  her  harp, 
and  they  found  that  the  Banker's  daughter- 
in-law  could  sing  several  songs  of  which  the 
harpist  knew  the  accompaniment.  It  was 
an  hour  filled  with  the  pure  joy  of  exist- 
ence, untroubled  by  one  thought  of  the 
past,  by  one  anxiety  for  the  morrow. 


Manna  had  caused  a  beautiful  myrtle-tree 
to  be  placed  on  the  table,  wishing  to  weave 
from  its  boughs  a  crown  for  Lina,  whose 
marriage  was  to  be  solemnized  almost  im- 
mediately. As  she  sat  thus,  with  the 
blooming  branches  before  her,  Weidmann 
entered,  and  said  joyously,  — 

"This  tree  bears  leaves  and  blossoms 
enough  for  threefold  bridal  wreaths,  and  I 
hope  they  will  be  worn." 

Then  he  told  them  that  he  came  as  the 
Major's  ambassador,  to  summon  the  ladies' 
attention  to  the  story  of  Fraulein  Milch. 

The  Major  came  in  with  the  Fraulein, 
who,  casting  a  strange  look  at  the  Banker's 
daughter-in-law,  said,  — 

"  You  are  to  be  present  too." 

The  Major,  having  called  thither  the 
Banker  and  Professor  Einsiedel,  declared 
his  readiness  to  yield  to  the  instance  of  his 
friends,  and  reside  at  the  Villa,  in  order  to 
superintend  and  keep  everything  in  good 
condition  ;  but  only  with  the  stipulation  that 
Frciulein  Milch  should  at  last  be  released 
from  her  vow ;  stating  that  she  was  ready, 
after  having  related  her  life-history,  to  sub- 
mit to  the  verdict  of  their  friends,  the  Banker 
and  the  Professor. 

"Another  story!"  moaned  the  Pro- 
fessor. He  dreaded  the  idea  of  pronounc- 
ing a  judgment  which  was  wholly  without 
results,  as  in  the  case  of  Sonnenkamp. 

The  Major,  however,  begged  so  urgently 
that  he  consented,  and  Fraulein  Milch 
began : — 

"  You,  Herr  Professor,  are  just  like  my 
father,  and  yet  you  are  very  different !  He, 
too,  was  a  learned  man,  but  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent sphere. 

"  You  have  many  of  his  habits,  and,  if  you 
accompany  me  to  the  altar,  it  will  seem  as 
though  my  father  were  with  me,  although 
you  are  much  younger.  And  you,  my 
friends, — you,  Frau  Professorin,  who  have 
honored  me  before  knowing  my  life,  and 
you,  Fraulein  Manna,  who,  after  conquer- 
ing a  strong  prejudice,  have  given  me  your 
rich  love,  — you  shall  now  be  made  really 
acquainted  with  me.  But  you  (turning  to 
the  Banker),  you  will  best  be  able  to  pass 
sentence  upon  me ;  for  you  are  a  Jew,  as  I 
am  a  Jewess."  \ 

All  were  astounded. 

Fräulein  Milch  waited  quietly  until  her 
auditors  had  recovered  from  their  amaze- 
ment, then  continued :  — 

"I  am  the  daughter  of  a  learned  Hebrew, 
and  an  only  daughter.  I  had  one  brother, 
of  whom  we  shall  hear  later.  My  father 
was  a  noble  and  pious  man  ;  he  was  couri- 
ered a  scholar  of  great  discernment,  with 
fine  polemical  gifts ;  but  in  life  he  was 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


529 


childishly  simple  and  —  why  should  I  not 
say  it? —  shiftless.  He  read  the  sacred 
books  from  morning  till  night.  » 

"  My  mother  sprang  from  a  wealthy 
house,  had  once  been  blessed  in  early  child- 
hood by  the  hands  of  Moses  Mendelssohn  ; 
from  this  it  was  predicted  that  she  would 
one  day  marry  a  man  of  great  knowledge. 
This  proved  true.  According  to  the  will 
of  her  parents  she  became  the  wife  of  my 
father,  on  account  of  his  piety  and  learn- 
ing. 

"  Such  was  the  way  in  which  the  opulent 
Israelites  formerly  -exhibited  their  grati- 
tude and  respect  for  a  learned  man  of  their 
faith,  as  the  Christians  bestowed  gifts 
upon  the  convents.  The  Jews  could  found 
no  establishments.  They  had  no  protec- 
tion ;  all  their  goods  were  movable,  and 
thus  they  devoted  a  portion  of  their  wealth 
to  the  support  of  our  scientific  men. 

My  mother's  whole  being  was  absorbed 
in  her  adoration  of  my  father.  The  quiet 
and  uniformity  of  life ;  the  calm  content 
which  reigned  in  my  parental  abode ;  how 
the  poor  were  fed ;  how  our  entire  exist- 
ence was  nought  save  the  pause  between 
one  pious  deed  and  another,  between  one 
festival  and  another,  no  one  present  can 
know  but  you  (turning  towards  the 
Banker),  you  alone  can  conceive  of  it.  I 
myself  often  recall  it  as  a  dream.  In  win- 
ter, when  my  father  was  unable  to  go  out, 
the  community  came  to  my  father,  to  unite 
together  in  prayer  in  his  study,  and,  while 
a  little  child,  I  used  to  hear  much  discourse 
on  worldly  events. 

"  What  did  we  know  of  the  world  ? 

'*  The  world  belonged  to  the  officials  out- 
side, to  the  soldiers.  They  were,  in  our 
eyes,  beings  moving  in  a  fabulous  realm, 
into  which  we  could,  never  enter. 

"  My  brother,  who  was  a  handsome  man 
—  he  resembled  Herr  Dournay  —  formed 
a  friendship  with  a  young  drummer  named 
Grassier,  who  was  billetted  in  our  house. 
We  were  all  made  perfectly  happy  by  the 
reverence  which  this  youth  showed  towards 
my  father,  whom  he  regarded  as  a  saint, 
and  by  his  gentleness  and  timidity  when  in 
his  presence.  I  yet  remember,  as  though 
it  were  but  yesterday,  how  I  stood  on  the 
steps,  turning  round  and  round  with  my 
hand  one  of  the  knobs  of  the  balustrade, 
when  the  drummer  said  to  me  :  — 

"  '  Yes,  Rosalie,  when  you  are  grown  up, 
and  I  have  become  an  officer,  I  will  come 
back  and  take  you  away  with  me.' 

"He  went  away  drumming ;  but  I  kept 
hearing  those  strange  words  in  the  sound 
of  the  drum,  and  still  stood  on  the  steps, 
twirling  the  knob,  while  the  whole  world 


seemed  to  whirl  with  me.  But  I  beg  par- 
don, I  am  growing  too  prolix." 

"  No,  go  into  details  as  much  as  you 
like." 

"  But  I  cannot,11  replied  Fräulein  Milch. 
"Well,  then,  they  went  to  the  war.  My 
brother  fell.  Conrad  came  back.  He  had 
become  an  ensign,  and  he  brought  back  to 
my  father  my  brothers  little  prayer-book, 
its  cover  and  leaves  pierced  by  a  ball.  My 
father  and  niy  mother  and  I  sat  on  the 
ground,  mourning  for  seven  days.  Conrad 
came  and  sat  with  us :  he  honored  our 
foreign  observances. 

"Father  seated  himself  again  among  his 
sacred  books ;  but,  whereas  he  used  for- 
merly to  read  with  a  low,  humming  sound, 
he  now  spoke  the  words  aloud  and  with 
violence.  He  seemed  obliged  to  put  a  con- 
straint upon  his  thoughts,  which  would  go 
out  after  his  son. 

"  Time  gradually  healed  our  wounds.  My 
brother  had  long  been  at  rest  in  his  grave, 
—  who  can  say  where  ?  Conrad  had  returned 
to  his  home.  I  was  seventeen.  It  was  on 
Easter  eve ;  we  had  solemnized  the  Passover, 
and  my  father  discoursed  much  on  the  liber- 
ation from  servitude,  in  commemoration  of 
which  we  keep  Easter,  and  lamented  the 
oppression  beneath  which  we  were  sighing 
still.  He  loved  Jesus'  heartily  and  warmly, 
and  only  bewailed  unceasingly  the  misuse 
of  his  name  as  an  authority  for  the  misery 
into  which  we,  members  of  his  race,  were 
plunged.  That  night  I  heard  him  say  that 
our  great  and  wise  Rabbi*,  Moses  ben 
Maimon,  had  taught  that  Jesus  had  over- 
thrown heathen  idolatry ;  that  he  was  not 
Messias,  but  his  fore-runner  ! 

"  It  was  late  at  night  ere  we  went  to  rest. 
I  slept  in  a  room  adjoining  that  of  my 
parents.  Thus  I  heard  my  father  say  to 
my  mother :  — 

"  '  How  wretched  we  Jews  are  !  there  is 
that  splendid  man,  so  loyal,  so  good-hearted, 
Conrad  Grassier,  returned.  He  has  worked 
his  way  up  to  a  captaincy,  and  retired  on  a 
majors  pension,  and  now  here  he  comes 
and  asks  for  our  Rosalie.  If  the  good  man 
were  only  of  our  faith,  if  he  were  a  Jew, 
how  gladly  would  I  give  him  my  child  !  I 
could  not  desire  a  better  husband  for  her ; 
but,  as  it  is,  it  cannot  be,  and  God  forgive 
my  sin  in  thinking  of  it ! 1 

"  I  heard  this  from  my  chamber,  and  that 
night,  though  I  was  still  under  my  parents1 
roof,  my  spirit  was  already  far  away,  out 
into  the  wide  world,  where  the  officers  lived, 
and  the  soldiers,  and  those  who  owned  it. 

"  Father  had  nothing  against  Conrad  if  it 
had  not  been  for  that  one  thing.  A  voice 
within  me  repeated  this   all  night  long. 


530 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  OK  THE  RHINE. 


And  in  the  morning,  while  my  father  and 
mother  were  in  the  synagogue,  I  sat  alone 
with  my  prayer-book.  See  this  little 
prayer-book.  It  is  a  devotional  manual  for 
women,  composed  by  my  father  —  but  my 
thoughts  were  not  upon  it.  How  still  it  was  ! 
1  was  alone  in  the  house.  No  one  was  to 
be  seen  in  the  streets,  for  the  whole  com- 
munity was  at  the  synagogue.  I  seated 
myself  in  the  middle  of  the  room  ;  I  did  not 
wish  to  look  out  of  the  window ;  Conrad 
would  surely  be  passing  by. 

"  But  how  did  he  look  ?  How  wonderful 
that  he  had  kept  that  promise  made  to  me 
in  my  childhood !  What  had  he  become  ? 
How  would  I  seem  to  him? 

"  Then,  I  cannot  tell  how  it  was,  but  as  I 
was  standing  at  the  window,  looking  out,  I 
saw  Conrad,  grown  into  a  noble-looking 
man.  I  withdrew  from  the  window,  but 
then  came  footsteps  on  the  stairway,  and  my 
heart  throbbed  as  though  it  would  burst. 
Conrad  stood  alone  in  the  world ;  he  is  a 
military  orphan." 

A  smile  passed  round  the  circle  of  listen- 
ers, and  Fräulein  Milch  went  on :  — 

"  I  told  Conrad  what  my  father  had  said 
to  my  mother,  the  night  before.  I  could 
give  him  up  for  my  parents'  sake ;  but  he 
was  not  in  duty  bound  to  renounce  me,  and 
I  had  not  the  right  to  relinquish  for  him, 
and  it  was  settled  that  I  should  elope  with 
him. 

"  My  father  returned  from  the  synagogue, 
and  I  have  never  felt  a  heavier  sorrow  than 
when  he  laid  his  hand  in  blessing  on  my 
head,  as  is  the  custom  with  us.  I  would 
not  disturb  the  joy  of  the  feast,  and  not  un- 
til it  was  ended  —  oh  !  I  ruined  the  joy  of 
his  whole  life  !  There  were  no  more  feasts 
for  him  —  did  I  flee  with  Conrad.  I  per- 
suaded myself  that  my  father  would  give  us 
his  blessing,  when  he  should  see  that  it 
could  not  be  otherwise.  We  wrote  to  him, 
but  he  did  not  answer.  He  sent  us  word, 
through  a  friend,  that  he  had  had  two  chil- 
dren, who  were  dead,  and  for  whom  he  ear- 
nestly prayed  that  it  might  be  well  with 
them  in  the  other  world.  And  one  word 
more  he  sent  me,  — '  Thou  seekest  honor 
before  the  world,*  and  for  honor  hast  thou 
forsaken  thy  father.'  I  wrote  back  pro- 
testing with  a  solemn  oath  that  I  had  wished 
to  obtain  no  earthly  honor  through  Conrad, 
promising  to  clothe  myself  with  humiliation 
and  shame  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and 
that  oath  I  have  kept  until  the  present  day. 

"  Conrad  soon  received  tidings  of  my 
mother's  death,  and  my  father  followed  her 
in  a  few  months.  I  inherited  a  small  for- 
tune, and  we  went  to  the  Rhine.  Down 
below,  yonder,  we  lived  twelve  years  in  a 


little  lower  Rhenish  village,  hidden  from  all 
the  world,  happy  in  each  other.  We  needed 
nothing  from  the  world  but  ourselves. 
Conrad  wished  constantly  to  marry  me ; 
but  I  had  vowed  to  robe  myself  in  ignominy 
during  the  whole  period  of  my  existence. 
We  might  have  been  united  here  by  civil 
contract.  That,  too,  I  refused.  I  used  to 
attend  church,  impelled  by  the  desire  to 
pray  in  common  /with  my  fellow  human 
beings.  I  had  my  quiet  corner,  and  while 
the  organ  was  pealing,  and  a  divine  service 
different  from  my  own  was  being  solemnized, 
I  would  sit  alone  and  p»ay  out  of  the  prayer- 
book  which  my  father  had  composed,  and 
from  the  other,  which  my  brother  had  had  on 
the  field  of  battle,  and  which  had  rested 
on  his  heart  till  it  beat  no  more.  I  was  in 
the  church  and  was  no  stranger,  for  there 
were  people  beside  me,  praying  after 
another  fashion,  but  to  the  same  Spirit 
which  I  also  invoke,  and  this  Spirit  will 
know  and  explain  why  men  turn  themselves 
to  him  in  such  different  ways.  Now  I  be- 
lieve I  may  revoke  my  sentence  of  self- 
excommunication." 

"  You  may,  you  must,"  said  the  Banker, 
speaking  first,  and  rising  as  he  spoke.  The 
Professorin  rose  and  embraced  the  narra- 
tor. 

"Well,  then,  will  you  hear  the  close, 
too  ?  "  resumed  Fräulein  Milch.  All  were 
still,  and  she  proceeded :  — 

"We  came  hither.  How  I  have  lived 
here,  you  know.  At  our  change  of  residence, 
Conrad  expressed  his  wish  for  a  formal 
union,  but  I  preferred  not  to  be  called  Frau 
Majorin ;  it  was  to  me  a  constant  penance 
and  chastisement  for  my  faithlessness  to  my 
parents  and  my  desertion  of  all  my  people. 
Now  we  lived  in  faithfulness,  in  oneness, 
without  any  formal  tie.  Thus  we  have 
lived,  and  now  it  is  fulfilled." 

"I  shall  go  with  you  to  the  wedding," 
cried  the  Professor  and  Weidmann. 

But  the  latter  now  took  Manna's  hand, 
saying :  —  • 

"  Do  you  know  for  whom  is  the  third 
bridal  wreath  which  shall  be  woven  from  this 
myrtle-tree  ?  " 

Manna  trembled,  and  he  went  on  :  — 

"  It  is  for  you.  You  have  struggled  and 
waited.    Help  me,  Frau  Dournay." 

The  Mother,  too,  took  Manna's  hand. 
The  Major,  hastening  out,  came  back  bring- 
ing Eric,  to  whom,  on  their  way,  he  said  a 
great  many  things  mixed  up  in  strange 
confusion. 

The  following  day  saw  the  three  couples 
united,  and  no  one  can  say  who  were  the 
happiest,  Manna  and  Eric,  the  Major  and 
Fräulein  Milch,  or  Lina  and  the  Architect. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


Rooms  were  fitted  up  in  the  castle,  and 
there  Manna  and  Eric  were  to  pass  the  first 
days  of  their  marriage. 

They  were  sitting  at  the  wedding-feast, 
which  had  been  tastefully  arranged  under 
the  direction  of  Joseph,  who  was  himself 
betrothed.  Manna  and  Eric  had  helped 
him  to  buy  an  inn  at  the  capital,  and  he  had 
plighted  his  troth  to  the  daughter  of  mine 
host  of  the  Victoria.  Now,  however,  he 
had  returned  of  his  own  accord,  and  was 
the  servant  of  the  house  as  formerly. 

Very  modestly  did  Knopf  bring  forward 
three  different  poems  which  he  had  com- 
posed for  the  triple  wedding ;  into  these  he 
had  skilfully  interwoven  all  sorts  of  little 
occurrences,  to  the  amusement  of  all. 

Eric  whispered  to  Manna,  as  he  sat  by 
her.  side :  "I  am  glad  that  I  have  already 
danced  with  you.  I  feel  as  though  I  must 
now  whirl  round  with  you  in  the  dance,  and 
forget  everything.  But  I  must  hush :  our 
good  teacher  is  about  to  speak.1' 

Einsiedel  arose,  with  a.  smile  upon  his 
face,  saying  with  sparkling  eyes  :  "  Come 
hither,  you  children  of  the  Rhine,  and  I  will 
teach  you  something.  My  pupil,  here,  Dr. 
Dournay,  knows  it,  I  shall  only  remind  him 
of  it ;  but  to  you  I  must  say  it :  — 

"All  my  thologies  tell  us  of  immortal  gods  ; 
but  they  are  not  immortal  by  nature,  they 
are  only  so  by  the  divine  drink,  by  means 
of  nectar,  wine,  and  mead :  these  are  the 
potions  which  give  eternal  life  ;  and,  floating 
in  the  clouds,  and  drinking  from  the  clouds, 
the  deities  become  immortal,  and  with  them 
the  inspired  breath  of  arisen  souls.  Yes, 
it  is  by  drinking !  Look  here,  see  how  the 
sun  shines  in  this  glass,  and  here  the  light- 
ning is  embosomed,  the  primitive  life-lire. 
We  drink,  and  are  immortal,  like  the  gods. 
And  this  is  my  desire !  Drink  always  a 
drop  of  this  divine  draught  from  the  ocean 
of  ether,  the  spirit-sea,  which  undulates 
and  floats  over  the  world.  Their  you  will 
be  forever  happy  and  immortal." 

Evening  came,  and  Manna  and  Eric  went 
hand  in  hand  to  the  castle. 

The  moon  stood  over  the  stream,  bathing 
with  trembling  light  tree  and  bush,  where 
the  buds  were  gently  bursting  and  the 
nightingale  unweariedly  singing.  The 
world  was  flooded  with  bliss. 

For  three  days  they  remained  alone  at 
the  castle,  and  on  the  third  evening  they 
came  down  again  to  Villa  Eden. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

A    JOYOUS  FAREWELL,    AND  HUMBOLDT'S 
BLESSING  ON  THE  JOURNEY. 

In  the  Carp  Inn  Was  a  noisy  hubbub. 


The  Cooper,  as  young  host,  was  merrily 
pouring  the  wine,  and  both  fathers, ^the 
Screamer  and  the  Sevenpiper,  looked  on 
delightedly,  often  clinking  their  ribbed 
glasses. 

It  was  known  throughout  the  whole  region 
that  the  Cooper  was  a  confidant  of  Roland 
and  Eric.  Now  came  the  young  men  from 
all  sides,  wishing  to  be  enrolled  for  the 
American  war ;  there  was  even  a  deputation 
appeared  from  Weidmann's  cement  factory, 
begging  for  the  passage-money  for  thirty- 
two  men. 

The  Cooper  had  given  information  of 
what  was  going  forward  to  Roland,  who  was 
highly  excited  by  the  news. 

Now  has  come  a  use  for  his  wealth.  He 
would  raise  a  regiment  with  which  he  would 
go  to  America.  They  would  land,  and  the 
columns  would  march  at  once. 

Eric,  too,  felt  a  great  interest  the  carry- 
ing out  of  this  plan,  but  Weidmann  opposed 
it  stoutly,  affirming  that  we  had  no  right  to 
withdraw  from  Germany  the  strength  need- 
ed for  her  development. 

This  objection  was  of  no  avail ;  but  an- 
other remonstrance  was  decisive.  He  told 
Roland  that  President  Lincoln  would  be 
absolutely  obliged  to  take  a  step  further,  — 
he  must  arm  the  negroes.  Then  it  might 
be  Roland's  part  to  give  pecuniary  assist- 
ance, and  it  would  be  far  grander  that  the 
negroes  themselves  should  fight  for  their 
own  liberation  and  for  that  of  their  breth- 
ren. 

Roland  had  been  before  the  court,  where 
he  had  been  declared  of  age  ;  he  now  came 
into  the  Carp  Inn,  where  ail  were  full  of 
astonishment  when  the  young  man  informed 
t*hem  that  be  «hould  only  take  with  him  three 
young  physcians  —  the  Banker  had  under- 
taken the  expenses  of  one  of  the  three  — 
that  he  should  engage  no  one  else,  as  the 
negroes  themselves  must  fight  for  their 
liberty. 

He  went  back  to  Villa  Eden,  accom- 
panied by  Claus. 

There  lived  the  Major. 

He  also  made  a  wedding-tour,  with  the 
Frau  Majorin.  They  stopped  awhile  in 
that  part  of  the  garden  called  Nice. 

They  went  through  the  park  and  ascended 
the  hill,  where  there  was  a  view  down  the 
Rhine.  The  Major  said  in  a  tone  of  supreme 
satisfaction  :  — 

"Now,  Frau  Majorin,  here  we  are,  on 
the  highest  mountain  in  Switzerland.11 

And  at  the  lake  he  said  :  — 

"  Frau  Majorin,  will  you  have  the  good- 
ness to  admire  the  Lago  Maggiore  ?  " 

They  went  through  the  conservatories, 
and  the  Major  declared  that  the  world  had 


532 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


collected  here:  its  most  beautiful  show  of 
flowers,  in  order  to  spare  them  the  great 
annoyance  of  travelling.  He  besought  his 
wife  to  excuse  him  if  he  did  not  show  her 
the  devotion  of  a  newly  married  husband 
during  the  following  days.  So  much  had 
yet  to  be  provided  before  the  departure  of 
the  new  knights  of  the  Brotherhood. 

There  were,  indeed,  so  many  things  to  be 
settled,  that  Eric  was  at  last  obliged  to  en- 
trust much  that  was  essential  to  Weidmaun 
and  the  Justice.  Before  he  could  start,  he 
must  obtain  his  discharge,  as  he  was  in  the 
reserve  corps.  The  reply  to  his  application 
was,  that  the  Prince  desired  a  personal 
interview.  He  was  obliged  to  go  to  the 
city,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  by  the 
gracious  and  complimentary  expressions  of 
the  Prince.  lie  said  that  he  was  not  willing 
to  give  such  a  man  his  discharge,  but  he 
would  grant  him  leave  of  absence  for  an  in- 
definite time. 

Eric's  pride,  however,  was  very  soon 
humbled,  for  the  Prince  hinted  that  Eric, 
now  made  the  possessor  of  so  much  wealth, 
had  better  remain  in  the  country. 

During  his  stay  in  the  city,  officers  also 
came  to  Eric,  offering  either  to  accompany 
or  to  follow  him  to  America. 

Eric  positively  declined  all  such  offers. 

Joseph  the  valet  came  with  his  betrothed. 
Means  had  been  given  him  to  set  up  an  inn 
of  his  own  in  the  capital,  but  he  conducted 
himself  like  a  servant  of  the  house. 

Fassbender's  son,  who  had  been  working 
in  the  Bankers  office,  was  going  to  the  New 
World,  wishing  to  engage  in  the  occupation 
of  ftis  brother,  who  was  an  influential  build- 
ing-contractor. In  compliance  with  the 
urgent  request  of  Claus,  he  took  with  him  a. 
great  quantity  of  birds,  by  which  means  he 
was  to  establish  a  regular  bird-trade  with 
the  Old  World. 

The  deaf-mute  from  the  cement  factory, 
to  whom  Roland  had  given  a  knife,  came 
on  the  eve  of  their  departure,  bringing  him 
;i  mug,  on  which  was  marked  in  very  clumsy 
letters  :  "  Come  back.11 

Roland  made  permanent  provision  for  the 
care  of  the  forsaken  youth. 

it  was  very  hard  for  Roland  to  take  leave 
of  the  horses  and  dogs.  He  had  wished  to 
take  Griffin  with  him,  but  gave  up  the  idea 
when  the  difficulties  of  so  doing  were  repre- 
sented to  him.  Laying  his  hand  on  the 
dog's  head,  he  said  :  — 

"My  old  friend,  I  can't  take  you  with 
me ;  I  must  leave  much  more  than  you  be- 
hind me.  I  don't  myself  know  how  it  will 
end.  Just  stay  quietly  here,  and  wait  till  I 
come  back.1' 

The  dog  looked  up  sadly  at  his  master. 


On  the  morrow  there  was  a  great  pilgrim- 
age from  the  Villa  to  the  steamboat-land- 
ing. 

They  sent  the  carriages  on  before.  Weid- 
mann walked  with  Eric,  holding  his  hand, 
the  Major  with  Roland,  and  Knopf  with  the 
negro.  Manna  walked  between  the  Pro- 
fessorin and  the  Major's  wife.  The  Aunt 
and  Professor  Einsiedel  had  remained  be- 
hind at  the  Villa.  Roland  wept;  and 
Manna,  weeping  also,  leaned  on  the  arms 
of  those  who  led  her.  Looking  up  at  the 
churchyard,  she  said  :  — 

"On  the  bank  of  this  river  we  are  at 
home :  here  rests  our  mother  in  the  earth. 
I  remember  an  old  saying,  but  where  it 
came  from  I  do  not  know  :  — 

"  '  The  nomadic  races  wander  and  wan- 
der ;  but  -where  they  have  dug  a  grave 
for  one  of  their  number,  there  they  must 
finally  remain.'  " 

Her  voice  failed  her.  After  a  time  she 
went  on : — 

"There  stand  the  trees  which  father 
planted." 

Tears  choked  all  further  utterance. 

Arrived  at  the  landing,  they  found  a 
great  assemblage  of  people.  Claus  kept 
laughing  and  nodding,  having  made  a  merry 
night  of  it  at  the  Carp,  wishing  to  have 
one  more  good  time  before  he  went  forth 
into  the  wide  world. 

The  Cooper,  now  landlord  of  the  Carp, 
and  the  Sevenpiper  presented,  in  behalf  of 
a  large  number  of  donors,  a  keg  of  virgin 
wine,  crowned  with  fresh  garlands. 

Now  the  Screamer  became  animated,  and 
speedily  reckoned  up  what  would  be  the 
daily  portion  of  each  of  the  travellers  until 
their  arrival  in  New  York.  It  would  be  at 
least  two  bottles  apiece ;  and  he  instantly 
tendered  his  services  in  despatching  the 
virgin  wine,  as  probably  Eric  would  not 
drink  his  whole  share,  and  perhaps  Roland 
too  would  fall  short. 

The  Ganger  told  in  doleful  fashion  how 
the  voyagers  would  to-day  have  the  good 
luck  of  travelling  with  a  young  married 
couple,  for  the  steamboat  which  was  coining 
was  called  the  "  Beethoven,"  and  the  stew- 
ard of  the  "  Beethoven  "  had  married  the 
"  Lorelei." 

Eric  and  Manna  sat  by  their  mother, 
holding  her  hand ;  and  she  said  to  them 
consolingly  :  — 

"Eric,  spare  your  life;  but  should  you 
fall  in  the  great  cause,  I  shall  mourn,  but  I 
will  not  bewail  your  loss." 

"Mother,  I  am  confident  of  returning 
home  alive  out  of  this  struggle  ;  and  yet,  if 
I  should  fall,  mother,  be  steadfast :  I  have 
lived  the  highest  life,  through  you,  through 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


my  father's,  and  through  my  Manna's,  love.1' 
The  Mother  silently  pressed  his  hand. 
Now  came  the  Doctor  and  the  Justice 
with  their  wives,  and  Lina  with  her  hus- 
band. The  Doctor  put  the  finishing  touch 
by  imparting  the  intelligence,  agitating  to 
all,  that  Pranken  had  entered  the  Papal 
army. 

Weidmann  was  much  moved  by  this 
news ;  he  exhorted  Eric  to  keep  upper- 
most in  his  thoughts,  even  above  the  grief 
of  parting,  the  wonderful  way  in  which  all 
this  had  come  to  pass  :  Pranken  there  and 
he  here.  He  expatiated  on  this  with  em- 
phasis, and  succeeded  in  his  intention  of 
dispelling  personal  sorrow  by  the  consider- 
ation of  universal  views.  That  which  this 
man  and  this  youth  had  done  in  accordance 
with  their  own  choice  and  the  leadings  of 
destiny,  that  was  no  longer  at  the  disposal 
of  their  own  individual  free  will,  but  was  ab- 
sorbed into,  and  had  become  a  part  of  the 
great  whole. 

And  now  the  real  mirthfulness  of  Rhenish 
life  began  to  display  itself.  '  The  glee-club 
made  its*appearance  with  a  band  of  music, 
and  clear  songs  rang  out  from  the  pretty 
and  graceful  steamer  which  now  came  down 
the  stream.  The  cannon  were  fired;  the 
boat  stopped ;  and  hurried  partings  were 
made.  Eric,  Manna,  and  Roland  kissed 
the  Mother,  who  cried  :  — 

"  Be  faithful  to  the  end." 

They  were  soon  on  board. 

The  steamer  had  pushed  off,  when  a  cry 
was  heard.  The  dog  Griffin  had  .broken 
loose  from  the  Cooper's  hold  upon  his  collar, 
sprung  into  the  Rhine,  and  was  swimming 
after  the  boat.  She  stopped  once  more : 
the  dog  was  hoisted  out  of  the  water  and 
taken  along  with  them. 

The  party  on  shore  waved  their  farewell 
signals,  and  were  answered  from  the  boat, 
as  long  as  they  could  see  each  other ;  but 
for  a  long  time  after  this,  the  gaze  of  the 
departing  ones  lingered  on  the  Villa. 

What  will  become  of  the  house  ?  What 
shall  they  be  when  they  return?  What 
kind  of  life  will  there  be  established  ? 

As  Manna  stood  leaning  on  Eric,  some- 
thing came  softly  up  to  them. 

The  dogs,  Rose  and  Thistle,  had  forced 
their  way  aboard.  Roland,  who  had  like- 
wise been  standing  lost  in  thought,  sud- 
denly brightened  up,  for  Griffin  was  also 
with  them. 

And  now  they  had  a  fresh  surprise.  No 
one  had  noticed  that  the  Major  had  not 
been  among  those  who  had  bid  them  good- 
bye. He  now  emerged  from  the  cabin  with 
his  wife.  He  was  now  making  his  wedding 
tour,  and  accompanied  the  wanderers  as  far 


as  the  Lower  Rhine.  It  seemed  as  if  they 
had  with  them  a  goodly  portion  of  the 
home. 

There  was  music  on  board,  and  the 
Major  soon  brought  up  the  steward  and 
stewardess,  to  whom  he  introduced  himself 
and  his  wife,  and  Eric  and  Manna,  as  newly- 
married  couples. 

"Yes,"  said  he  to  Eric,  "you  know  I 
have  been  a  drummer.  Til  tell  you  the 
story  some  time  or  other.  Yes,  when  you 
come  back  you  shall  have  it.11 

At  the  station  before  the  Island,  the 
Major  and  wife  disembarked.  Here  they 
had  dwelt  in  the  first  days  .of  their  union, 
and  here  they  wished  to  be  again  for  a  day, 
and  to  show  themselves  as  married  people 
to  those  who  had  then  been  friendly  to- 
ward them.  The  Major  still  waved  his 
hand  from  the  row-boat,  and  strove  to  show 
a  cheerful  countenance,  but  the  tears  ran 
down  his  cheeks,  and  as  he  bent  over  the 
side  of  the  skiff,  they  flowed  into  the  Rhine. 

Silently  they  glided  on,  and,  as  they 
passed  the  Cloister  Island,  a  flock  of  white 
doves  were  winging  their  way  over  it.  The 
nightingales  were  singing  so  loud  as  to  be 
heard,  in  spite  of  the  continual  plash  of  the 
paddle-wheels.  The  chüdi-en  of  the  Island 
were  walking  along  the  shore,  two  by  two, 
and  singing. 

Manna  sighed  deeply,  and  wafted  a  greet- 
ing over  to  them. 

No  one  imagined  who  was  passing  by, 
away,  away  to  the  New  World. 

When,  at  evening,  the  vessel  stopped  for 
the  night,  Eric  remembered  a  sheet  of 
paper  which  Weidmann  had  given  him. 
lie  read  it.  It  contained  words  from  the 
close  of  Humboldt's  Cosmos  :  — 

"There  are  some  races  more  civilized, 
more  highly  ennobled  by  culture  than 
others,  but  there  are  no  races  nobler  by 
nature.  All  are  equally  destined  for  free  - 
dom." 

BOOK  XV. 

EXTRACTS  OF  LETTERS  FROM  AND  TO  THE 
NEW  WORLD. 

[Eric  to  his  Mother.] 
On  board  the  Benjamin  Franklin. 
Our  ship  bears  the  name  which  my  father 
always  uttered  with  peculiar  fervor. 
My  mother ! 

I  am  transformed  into  a  life  full  of  novel 
excitement.  I  have  seen  the  sea  for  the 
first  time.  Now  I  am  living  upon  it,  and  I 
seem  to  be  writing  to  you  from  another 
world. 

A  joyful  event  ushered  us  out*  of  the 
Fatherland. 


534 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


As  we  drew  near  the  shore,  on  the  first 
evening,  I  espied  a  broad,  benevolent,  com- 
fortable-looking man,  at  the  window  of  the 
corner-house  at  the  landing.  He  bowed  to 
me,  I  returned  the  salutation,  but  did  not 
recognize  him.  But  when  we  were  on 
board,  he  came  up  to  us ;  it  was  Master 
Ferdinand,  whom  I  had  helped  out  at  the 
musical  festival. 

I  quickly  told  him  our  story,  and  he, 
with  a  despatch  which  could  only  have  been 
inspired  by  disinterested  kindness,  collected 
his  fellow  artists,  together  with  some  culti- 
vated amateurs  of  the  town,  and  we  sang 
and  played  far  into  the  night. 

With  music  in  our  souls  we  left  the 
Rhine,  —  we  left  Germany. 

Manna  and  Roland  will  write  to  you 
themselves ;  they  are  now  on  deck,  reading 
the  Odyssey  :  it  is  the  only  thing  one  ought 
to  read  here.  All  movement  on  the  high- 
way^ on  shore,  all  household  interests  and 
surroundings,  seem  far  removed. 

Such  a  ship  is  a  world  in  itself. 

Herr  Knopf,  too,  has  had  a  wonderful 
meeting.  He  is  writing  to  the  Major :  get 
him  to  show  you  the  letter.  One  thing 
more  I  must  tell  you  about. 

We  reached  Liverpool  at  evening,  and 
intended  to  rest  there  a  day.  On  the  next 
morning  I  was  standing  alone,  looking  at 
the  harbor,  and  thinking  how  Liverpool  was 
the  first  English  port  in  which  slave-ships 
were  fitted  out,  when  I  was  roused  from 
my  reverie  over  the  changing  events  of 
history,  by  seeing  an  outward-bound  vessel 
weighing  anchor.  On  the  deck  stood  a  man, 
who,  I  cannot  doubt,  was  Sonnenkamp. 
He  now  wears  a  full  beard ;  but  I  recog- 
nized him  m  spite  of  it.  He  has  either 
been  in  Europe  all  the  time,  or  else  has  re- 
turned here.  He  seemed  to  recognize  me, 
took  off  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  beckoned 
to  some  one,  and  a  figure  appeared  which 
I  could  not  recognize  with  certainty,  but  1 
think  it  was  Bella. 

I  learned  from  the  brother-masons,  to 
whom  Weidmann  had  given  me  a  letter  of 
introduction,  that  a  man  quite  answering  to 
the  description  of  Sonnenkamp,  was  send- 
ing a  shipload  of  arms  and  ammunition  to 
some  Southern  port. 

I  dare  not  think  how  terrible,  at  this 
juncture,  a  meeting  would  have  been. 

Strangely  enough,  as  I  was  walking  with 
Manna  at  noon,  through  the  city,  she  said 
to  me:  "I  feel  as  if  I  must  meet  father 
here.  I  keep  thinking  he  will  come  round 
some  corner,  on  one  side  or  the  other !  11 
I  do  not  think  I  have  done  wrong  in  not 
telling  ner  of  what  1  saw. 

Mv>t  agonizing  is  the  thought  that,  per- 


haps, father  and  son  may  fight  against  each 
other  in  opposing  armies.  My  consolation 
is,  that  Sonnenkamp,  being  an  old  sailor, 
will  probably  enter  the  navy. 

Roland  is  the  darling  of  the  whole  ship. 
He  is  indefatigably  zealous  to  learn  about 
the  arrangement  of  the  vessel,  and  about  all 
the  duties  of  the  crew.  He  is  busy  with 
them  first  in  one  place,  then  in  another, 
and  I  am  glad  to  see  that,  by  this  means, 
all  his  hard  thinking  and  speculation  are 
driven  away. 

We  have  favoring  winds. 

Very  merry,  too,  is  the  chirping  and 
singing  of  the  birds  that  Claus  has  brought 
with  him.  The  blackbird  strikes  an  atti- 
tude on  her  perch,  like  that  of  a  renowned 
singer  on  the  stage,  looks  eoquettishly 
round  on  the  bystanders,  and  sings  her 
"Rejoice  in  your  life."  You  know  she 
never  gets  beyond  that :  but  we  like  to  have 
it  said  and  sung  to  us:  "Rejoice  in  your 
life." 

On  the  second  evening  out. 

Now  it  is  night.  Manna  is  alone  on 
deck,  looking  at  the  stars.  What  a  won- 
drous world !  Overhead  the  innumerable 
stars,  and  around  us  the  boundless  sea. 
I  feel  as  if  I  must,  on  this  voyage,  let 
all  hard  thinking,  reflection,  and  specula- 
tion take  wings  and  fly  away,  in  order  that 
I  may  tread  the  soil  of  the  New  World  as 
simply  a  man  of  resolute  action.  There  has 
always  been  a  vein  of  romance  running 
through  my  life  and  nature.  What  is  it 
that  leads  me  thither,  to  stake  my  whole 
being  in  a  great  crisis  of  human  history  ? 
No  longer  to  be  a  mere  spectator,  but  to 
act,  to  live,  and,  perhaps  —  no,  mother,  an 
inward  assurance  tells  me  I  shall  come 
home  alive  from  this  conflict. 

Home !  Home !  Oh,  mother,  my  soul 
wings  its  way  across  to  it,  over  the  bound- 
less billows  of  life :  we  are  with  you,  and 
Villa  Eden  makes  true  its  name.  And  yet, 
if  Fate  has  otherwise  decreed,  be  firm : 
your  son  has  been  perfectly  happy  ;  he  has 
enjoyed  all  the  fulness  of  life.  I  have  had 
you,  father,  Manna,  knowledge,  pure  aspi- 
rations, action.    All  has  been  mine. 

Here  I  sit,  and  the  billows  bear  me  on. 
We  rise  and  fall  with  the  waves,  and  well 
for  him  who  feels,  as  I  now  do,  that  the 
goal  at  which  he  aims  is  a  good  one. 

It  seems  as  if  your  hand  were  on  my 
brow:  I  am  well  and  free.  And,  oddly 
enough,  I  see  myself  in  my  mind's  eye, 
transported  to  the  University  town  again. 
Now  it  is  evening ;  in  the  parlor  at  the 
"  Post,"  the  regular  guests  are  seated,  who 
meet  there  every  evening,  though,  in  truth. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


535 


they  cannot  endure  each  other.  They  sit 
round  a  table  covered  "with  black  oil-cloth, 
with  their  glasses  before  them,  discussing 
the  affairs  of  the  world,  telling  anecdotes, 
and  hoaxing  one  another,  and  then  the  talk 
turns  upon  that  unsteady  adventurer,  Doc- 
tor Dournay.  I  am  a  fruitful  theme  for 
them.  Tall  Professor  Whitehead  lights  a 
match,  and  says  with  satisfaction,  "I  al- 
ways knew  he  would  desert  Science,"  and 
then  the  everlasting  "Extraordinary"  says — 
Enough  !  I  was  once  on  another  planet,  and 
believed  myself  at  home  there. 

I  have  not  written  for  five  days,  and  now, 
mother,  the  man  who  is  writing  to  you  has 
been,  with  bis  nearest  and  dearest,  in  the 
jaws  of  death. 

We  have  lived  through  a  storm  such  as 
our  captain,  a  seaman  of  three-and-twenty 
years1  experience,  has  never  seen  before. 

I  must  confess,  I  was  not  among  the 
brave.  And,  in  the  midst  of  the  tempest, 
—  such  is  the  double-action  of  the  soul,  — 
I  could  not  help  often  thinking  of  the  ever- 
lasting "  Extraordinary,1' at  the  long  table 
in  the  Post,  speaking  of  my  death,  and 
lamenting  his  having  abandoned  poetical 
composition :  our  end  would  have  made  a 
fine  subject.  The  coolest  in  the  midst  of 
the  storm  were  Roland  and  Knopf.  The 
latter,  however,  was  not  with  us,  but  on 
the  forward  deck  with  his  betrothed.  Man- 
na held  me  clasped  in  her  arms.  We 
wished  to  die  together. 

Oh,  why  should  I  recount  our  dangers  ? 
They  are  past.  Now  that  we  are  safe,  we 
talk  of  them  no  more. 

On  the  next  morning,  when  the  sky  was 
so  clear,  and  the  sea  so  calm,  we  celebrated 
a  betrothal  on  board.  It  was  friend  Knopf 
who  was  betrothed ;  he  will  write  you  a 
more  detailed  account  of  it  all.  The  cask 
of  virgin  wine,  which  had  been  given  to  us, 
was  shared  among  the  crew  on  that  day. 
The  Rhine  poured  joy  into  the  veins  of  us 
all. 

There  was  singing,  dancing,  jubilation. 
All  the  flags  were  hoisted,  and  at  table 
friend  Knopf  made  an  address  no  less  amus- 
ing than  touching.  I  believe  he  is  going  to 
send  Fraulein  Milch  his  speech.  We  had 
music,  too ;  Knopf  played  the  flute,  and 
persuaded  Manna  to  bring  her  harp  on 
deck.  All  the  passengers  and  the  sailors 
stood  around  her  with  suspended  breath, 
and,  when  she  had  ended,  shouted  and 
huzzaed. 

In  three  days  we  shall  each  land ;  I  do 
not  know  whether  I  shall  write  again  till 
then ;  my  first  step  on  the  soil  of  the  New 
World  will  be  to  send  you  this  letter,  unless 


we  should  meet,  on  the  way,  some  vessel 
which  will  take  it  to  Europe. 
To  Europe ! 

I  feel  raised  so  high  above  the  world,  that 
it  seems  as  if  I  could  play  with  whole  con- 
tinents. 

Be  joyful  in  thinking  of  your  happy  son, 

Eric. 

[Knopf  to  the  Major  and  Fraulein  Milch.] 
Dear  Brother  and  Sister, 

Oh,  how  delightful  it  is  that  J,  who  have 
never  been  able  to  calf  any  one  by  these 
names,  can  now  apply  them  to  you  ! 

In  the  red  blank-book  which  you,  dear 
sister,  gave  me,  are  many  notes  of  travel, 
which  I  hope  to  be  able,  some  time,  to  write 
out :  now  I  cannot.  Out  with  the  best 
thing :  I  am  betrothed ! ! !  It  occurs  to  me, 
while  making  these  three  exclamation  marks, 
that  their  form  has  a  meaning.  They  seem 
to  me  like  the  image  of  a  comet.  Do  ask 
Professor  Einsiedel  if  I  have  not  made  a 
great  scientific  discovery. 

Do  you  remember,  dear  sister,  my  telling 
you  of  my  meeting  a  girl  with  two  boys  in 
the  forest,  that  time  when  I  was  coming  to 
find  our  friend  Herr  Dournay  ?  That  girl 
is  my  betrothed.  Her  name  is  Rosalie,  like 
yours.  She  looks  enough  like  you  to  be 
your  sister.  Yes,  she  is  your  sister.  She 
has  brown  eyes,  like  you. 

"But  who  is  she,  then  ? 11  I  hear  you  ask, 
laying  aside  your  sewing  and  looking  at  me 
with  both  eyes  —  I  had  almost  said,  with 
both  hands. 

Well,  just  let  me  tell  you  quietly. 

Now,  then,  the  maiden  whom  I  met  in 
the  green-wood,  my  wood-maiden,  is  the 
daughter  of  a  teacher,  and  —  I  beg  you  to 
hear  this  respectfully  —  she  has  passed  her 
own  examination  as  a  teacher,  and  her 
brothers  are  splendid  fellows.  I  did  not 
venture  to  approach  the  girl,  although  I 
recognized  her  at  the  first  glance.  I  tried 
to  ingratiate  myself  with  the  brothers  — 
and  said  one  day  to  the  smaller  one,  who 
took  to  me  at  once  —  "  Tell  your  sister  I 
met  her  in  the  forest,  last  May,  on  her  way 
to  chapel  with  you ;  she  had  on  a  brown 
dress.1' 

"Why  don't  you  tell  her  so  yourself?1' 
asked  the  little  fellow. 

I  had  no  time  to  answer  him ;  for  just 
then  my  wood-maiden  came  along,  and  be- 
gan reproving  her  brother  for  annoying  the 
strange  gentleman,  when  the  little  one 
shouted,  "  Why,  it's  the  gentleman  you 
imitate,  when  you  show  how  he  looked  over 
his  spectacles  at  you." 

Now  it  was  out.  She  had  made  fun  of 
me  ?  She  too  ?    I  took  off  my  glasses,  and 


536 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


must  confess,  I  should  have  liked  to  throw 
them  into  the  sea,  and  myself  after  them. 

"  What  did  she  say?  11  you  ask. 

She  spoke  kindly  and  heartily :  she  said 
she  had  not  ridiculed  me  —  Oh.  I  don't  re- 
member the  rest  —  she  gave  me  her  hand, 
and  

I  cannot  write  it ;  you  shall  hear  all  about 
it  sometime,  and,  even  if  I  don't  describe 
it,  you  know  just  the  same  :  I,  Emil  Knopf, 
girls1  tutor  through  so  many  generations, 
am  engaged  to  an  angel.  That  is  a  hack- 
neyed phrase.  Wh6  knows  whether  angels 
could  stand  the  teachers1  examination  ? 

I  say  with  Herr  Weidmann :  I  should 
just  like  to  know  how  men  can  manage  not 
to  believe  in  God.  Could  only  humari  un- 
derstanding devise  such  a  story  as  this  ?  I 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  where  she  came 
from,  or  who  she  was ;  and  now  she  is  put 
aboard  the  same  ship  for  me,  or  you  may 
say,  I  am  put  on  board,  and  now  the  war 
breaks  out,  and  she  has  an  uncle  in  America 
—  It  is  a  tine  thing  that  there  is  an  uncle  in 
America.  I  think  I  have  met  my  father-in- 
law.  And  do  you  know  what  is  the  best 
thing  ? 

To  have  a  beloved  one  to  live  through  a 
storm. 

In  the  midst  of  the  storm,  and  it  was  no 
ordinary  one,  I  thought,  '  How  would  it 
have  been,  if  you  had  been  obliged  to  sink 
into  the  sea  alone,  and  had  never  known 
what  it  is  to  kiss  a  maiden's  lips,  and  how 
it  feels  to  have  a  soft  hand  stroke  your  face, 
and  even  to  be  told,  "You  are  hand- 
some,11 —  just  think  of  it !  I,  Emil  Knopf, 
famous  as  the  least  dangerous  of  men,  I  am 
handsome  !  Oh,  how  blind  were  all  mothers 
and  daughters  in  the  blessed  land  of  Unifor- 
mingen  !  Rosalie  has  a  little  mirror,  and 
when  I  look  into  it,  I  am  really  handsome  — 
I  am  pleased  with  myself.  But  do  not 
think  I  have  gone  mad  ;  I  am  in  full  posses- 
sion of  my  mental  powers.  Herr  Major,  I 
pledge  myself  to  explain  to  you  the  law  of 
the  centre  of  gravity  and  of  the  line  of  gra- 
vitation.  I  retain  my  understanding  intact. 

'One  thing,  however,  is  hard  for  me.  I 
find  that  I  am  no  poet.  If  I  were,  I  should 
now,  of  necessity,  compose  such  poems  that 
the  whole  world  would  hear  of  nothing  else. 
The  sailors  could  not  refrain  from  singing 
them,  nor  the  soldiers,  coming  away  from  the 
parade  ground,  nor  the  white-handed  young 
lady  at  the  piano,  nor  the  journeyman  by 
the  roadside,  when  he  takes  off  his  oil-cloth 
hat  and  lays  his  head  on  his  pack.  Oh,  I 
feel  as  if  I  must  have  something  which 
should  appease  the  hunger  of  the  whole 
world,  crying  to  all  men,  u  Do  you  not  see 
how  beautiful  the  world  is  ?  " 


But  now  I  beg  for  a  wedding  gift.  You 
and  Fräulein  Milch  must  have  your  photo- 
graphs taken,  for  my  sake.  Oh,  excuse 
my  writing  Fräulein  Milch  —  I  mean  the 
Majorin.  I  see  that  I  have  kept  writing 
Fräulein  Milch  thoughout  the  whole  letter. 
Do  not  be  vexed  if  I  do  not  alter  it. 

In  the  New  World  I  shall  write  again ; 
but  now  not  another  word.  I  have  written 
enough,  my  whole  life  long,  and  now  I  wish 
to  do  nothing  but  frolic  and  kiss.  Oh  !  that 
beautiful  air  from  Don  Giovanni  occurs  to 
me. 

I  will  say  but  this  one  thing  more  :  Man- 
na behaves  sweetly  and  kindly  to  ray  Rosa- 
lie, and  so  do  Adams  and  our  three  doctors 
and  young  Fassbender.  Every  one  rejoices 
in  our  happiness,  and  my  young  brothers-in- 
law  are  jolly  fellows.  We  are  all  practis- 
ing English,  but  we  mean  to  remain  true 
Germans. 

In  sight  of  land. 

In  three  days  we  shall  be  in  New  York. 

I  do^t  know  what  I  may  have  to  en- 
counter there.  Rosalie,  says  too  that  I 
must  write  now :  she  is  sitting  beside  me. 
But  I  really  cannot  write  my  inmost 
thoughts,  when  any  one  is  in  the  same  room 
with  me,  and  especially  when  such  dear 
eyes  are  looking  at  me.  I  will  try,  though  : 
Rosalie  thinks  I  have  spoken  so  beautifully 
that  it  ought  not  to  be  lost.  She  makes 
me  vain,  she  thinks  so  much  of  everything  I 
say. 

You  know  that  we  had  a  frightful  storm, 
and  that  we  were  formally  betrothed  the 
day  after.  It  was  only  a  little  betrothal 
feast ;  but  in  spirit  we  invited  the  best  peo- 
ple to  it,  and  I  summoned  and  addressed 
you  all ;  you  first,  dear  Major  —  or,  rather, 
pardon  me,  dear  brother,  and  then  you, 
dear  sister.  Your  cap  with  the  blue  ribbon 
was  a  good  centre  for  my  thoughts. 

I  spoke  as  follows  :  — 

Oh,  you  good  people,  I  cannot.  They 
all  say',  I  spoke  as  if  I  had  received  the 
gift  of  tongues.  It  may  be  so,  but  write 
it  I  cannot.  I  must  give  my  Rosalie  a  kiss. 
Major,  give  yours  to  the  Majorin. 

There,  that's  enough. 

P.  S.  I  have  given  Rosalie  what  I 
have  written  to  read.  She  is  taking  notes 
of  a  severe  criticism  forme.  Yes,  that  is  the 
way  with  teachers  that  have  passed  their 
examination. 

New  York. 
To  put  into  a  letter  what  one  has  experi- 
enced in  New  York  in  three  days,  nay,  in 
one,  would    be  like  holding  fast  in  our 
hands  the  changeful  images  in  the  clouds. 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


537 


I  have  given  up  writing  in  my  diary  ;  there 
is  too  much  to  say. 

When  we  landed,  the  Uncle  was  waiting 
for  us,  but  did  not  accept  me  as  a  nephew 
very  willingly.  I  wish  I  had  you  here, 
dear  Brother  Major,  to  explain  to  him  who 
I  really  am,  and  how  circumstanced.  Now 
I  must  wait  till  he  finds  it  out  for  himself ; 
perhaps  that  will  never  happen.  I  doji't 
blame  the  Uncle,  he  had  already  picked 
out  a  husband  for  Rosalie.  When  I  intro- 
duced Captain  Dournay  to  him,  he  said  :  — 

"  Dournay  —  Dournay  ?  "  but  nothing 
more.  He  must  have  had  to  do  with  one 
of  the  family,  some  time  or  other. 

The  Uncle  is  very  reserved  ;  but  great  as 
his  reticence  is  the  openuess  of  every  one 
in  Dr.  Fritz's  house.  Ah,  dear  brother 
and  sister,  now  I  know  what  Herr  Weid- 
mann's  home  must  have  been  when  he  was 
young,  only  Herr  Weidmann  has  more  sons, 
and  here  there  are  daughters.  And  what 
splendid  creatures  they  are  !  And  such  a 
wife  !  I  can  only  say,  when  she  looks  at 
you  with  her  great  eyes  you  are  satisfied. 

Oh,  what  glorious  people  we  Germans 
are  !  Wherever  we  are  transplanted,  here 
in  the  air  of  freedom  especially,  we  shoot 
up,  and  show,  for  the  first  time,  what  we 
really  are. 

I  stood  by  when  Roland  and  Lilian  met ; 
they  must  have  some  secret  sign  of  recog- 
nition, for  their  first  word  was  "Pebble.'1 
Yes,  in  love  affairs  some  secret  understand- 
ing is  always  formed.  They  merely  held 
each  other  by  the  hand,  and  then  went  out 
together.  Children  live  here  in  great  in- 
dependence. 

Things  go  on  beautifully  at  Dr.  Fritz's, 
only  nobody  has  any  time. 

I  now  understand  the  American  saying, 
'  Time  is  money.'  There  is  an  extraordi- 
nary restlessness  everywhere. 

Here  is  war  —  war  !  Most  people  think 
it  will  soon  be  over,  but  Dr.  Fritz  says 
that  the  obstinacy  of  the  Southern  States  is 
great,  and  that  they  are  the  better  armed. 

What  is  to  become  of  me  ?  you  ask. 
Dr.  Fritz  thinks  it  strange  that  I  still  wish, 
in  earnest,  to  become  a  teacher  of  negroes, 
especially  as  I  do  not  yet  speak  the  lan- 
guage with  ease.  He  gives  me  hope,  how- 
ever, of  being  able  to  carry  out  my  plan, 
by-and-by.  And  my  thoughts  go  even  fur- 
ther. A*  Normal  School  must  be  founded 
for  negro  youths  ;  I  shall  keep  this  in  view. 
Meantime  I  am  giving  music  lessons  here, 
and  it  seems  so  strange,  when  I  come  out 
of  a  house  where  we  have  been  practising, 
to  hear  in  the  street  the  noisy  roll  of  the 
drum. 

Adams  is  in  despair ;  the  President  will 


not  yet  permit  any  blacks  to  enlist. 
Adams  has  been  told  to  work  on  the  forti- 
fications, but  this  he  will  not  do. 

Young  Fassbender  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  bird-trade  which  Claus  wanted 
to  draw  him  into  with  his  brother;  he  has 
undertaken  to  furnish  supplies  for  the 
army.  I  hope  he  will  behave  honorably, 
for,  sad  to  say,  I  hear  that  a  great  deal  of 
cheating  and  embezzlement  is  carried  on 
even  in  this  Republic. 

[Knopf  to  Fassbender.] 

 and  tell  me,  did  I  ever  meet  at 

your  house  a  teacher  by  the  name  of  Run- 
zler  ?  It  is  very  important  to  me  to  know 
this,  for  he  was  my  father-in-law. 

I  think  he  was  at  your  house,  and  took 
snuff  out  of  a  large  box. 

Yes,,  it  is  so.  I  have  just  asked  my 
Rosalie.  Her  father  used  to  take  snuff 
from  a  big  beech-wood  box.  So  my  idea 
was  correct.  Memory  is  a  whimsical  thing. 
We  ought,  professionally,  to  take  it  into 
consideration  far  more  than  we  do.  I  re- 
member actually  nothing  but  the  beech- 
wood  snuff-box ;  but  I  beg  you  to  tell  me 
what  we  talked  about  at  that  time.  You 
recollect,  or  rather  I  remind  you,  that  I 
was  at  that  time  much  saddened  by  the 
childish  prank  which  Roland  had  played  off 
upon  me.  I  was  so  troubled,  that  I  cannot 
remember  any  thing  that  passed.  So  write 
me  all  about  it,  and  you  will  be  doing  me  a 
great  favor.  You  will  soon  receive  a  card 
inscribed  thus : 

EMIL  KNOPF, 

Rosalie  Knopf,  nek,  Runzler, 

Married. 

I  tell  you  the  world  is  full  of  romances  ; 
the  whole  of  life  is  but  a  romance. 

The  philosopher  Sendling  is  right; 
poetry,  art,  government,  religion,  every- 
thing, had  their  origin  in  myths. 

My  good  Roland  has  described  to  me  his 
visit  ' to  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  I  have  a 
good  poem  about  it  in  my  head.  Unfortu- 
nately I  have  as  yet  only  the  title ;  but  it 
is  a  "beautiful  one,  for  the  piece  is  to  be 
called:  'In  Abraham's  bosom.'  Think 
how  much  can  be  included  under  such  a 
heading ! 

Your  son  is  an  extremely  practical  man ; 
you  will  have  much  satisfaction  in  him. 

If  your  under-master  chooses  to  come 
here,  I  can  procure  him  much  employment 
in  piano  lessons.  We  have  teachers 
enough  in  Germany  to  export  some. 


538 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


[Roland  to  the  Professorin.] 

Pardon  me  if  I  no  longer  venture  to  call 
you  mother.  It  seems  to  me  like  an  injus- 
tice to  my  dead  mother  .that  I  ever  did  so. 
I  entreat  you  to  have  her  grave  carefully 
attended  to,  and  to  keep  it  strewn  with  her 
favorite  flowers,  ericas  and  pinks. 

Now  that  is  off  my  mind,  I  will  write  of 
other  things. 

When  I  think  of  the  green  cottage,  it 
always  seems  to  me  as  if  it  were  floating  on 
the  sea,  and  must  come  hither  to  us. 

Eric  and  Manna  have,  of  course,  de- 
scribed our  voyage  to  you.  While  at  sea, 
I  learned  tolerably  well  how  the  ship  was 
managed,  and  I  should  have  liked  best  to 
enlist  in  the  navy ;  but  Eric  would  not  hear 
of  it. 

It  is  probable  that  my  father  is  fighting 
against  us  by  sea,  so  it  is  better  for  me  to  be 
in  the  army.  t 

I  have  seen  Lilian  again.  I  can  say  to 
you  alone  that  we  are  engaged.  Do  not  say 
that  I  am  but  seventeen,  and  she  but  four- 
teen years  old.  Events  have  made  us  older. 
Why,  Franklin  wanted  to  marry  Miss  Read, 
when  he  was  only  eighteen.  We  have 
vowed  to  belong  to  one  another  when  the 
war  is  over. 

Please  let  these  lines  be  seen  by  no  eyes 
but  yours. 

We  have  been  at  Washington ;  I  have 
seen  the  Acropolis  of  the  New  World.  I 
wished  first  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Frank- 
lin's grave,  but  it  was  better  for  me  that  I 
could  first  see  one  of  his  greatest  successors, 
Abraham  Lincoln. 

I  have  seen,  for  the  first  time,  a  man  of 
immortal  glory.  Face  to  face  with  him,  I 
have  uttered  the  name  which  will  be  handed 
down  to  posterity.  Those  lips,  whose 
words  now  resound  throughout  the  world  of 
to-day,  and  shall  be  reechoed  by  future 
ages,  have  pronounced  my  name.  I  have 
looked  on  greatness,  and  how  simple  it  is! 

It  was  at  Carlsbad,  in  the  course  of  that 
memorable  conversation,  —  I  do  not  re- 
member much  of  it,  but  this  struck  me,  — 
that  some  one,  the  Cabinetsrath,  I  think, 
said :  "  He  who  has  walked  through  a  port- 
rait gallery  of  his  ancestors,  traverses  the 
whole  of  life  accompanied,  as  it  were,  by 
those  eyes."  Oh,  from  Lincoln's  eyes  the 
spirit  of  Socrates  and  Aristides,  the  spirit  of 
Moses,  of  Washington,  of  Franklin,  gazed 
upon  me.  And  then  I  fell  those  to  be  the 
forefathers  whom  every  one  can  earn  for 
himself  by  honorable  labor,  by  loyalty  and 
self-sacrifice.  I  have  the  loftiest  ancestry, 
and  I  will  be  worthy  of  it. 

I  enclose  a  photograph  of  Lincoln.  He 
resembles  Weidmann,  not  in  appearance, 


but  in  the  impression  he  makes  on  one.  I 
told  him  about  Adams,  and  how  unhappy 
the  negro  was  that  he  could  not  enter  the 
army,  but  could  only  be  employed  on  forti- 
fications. Lincoln  told  me  to  trust  mature 
discretion,  and  not  to  forget,  in  the  exuber- 
ance of  youth,  that  we  must  use  all  means 
in  our  power  to  bring  about  an  understand- 
ing, in  order  to  be  justified  before  our  own 
conscience  and  before  God,  if  obliged  to 
go  further,  saying  that  this  was  a  fraternal 
strife,  a  war,  not  of  annihilation,  but  of  re- 
conciliation. 

I  should  like  to  enter  a  negro  regiment, 
and  told  him  so.  He  was  silent,  and  only 
laid  his  broad,  powerful  hand  on  my  head. 
Manna  remains  at  Dr.  Fritz's.  Eric  has 
probably  already  told  you  of  his  entering 
the  army  with  the  rank  of  Major.  I  have  a 
comrade,  Hermann,  Lilian's  brother,  who 
bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  Rudolph 
Weidmann,  and  is  of  the  same  age,  but 
much  older  in  character.  Here,  one  is  much 
older  at  eighteen  than  with  us.  He  talks 
very  little  ;  but  what  he  says,  is  so  sensible 
and  decided  !  Ah,  he  has  had  a  beautiful 
youth! — but  I  will  say  no  more  ofthat. 
1  left  Griffin  behind,  in  Lilian's  care.  We 
are  in  the  cavalry.  If  we  only  had  our 
Villa  Eden  horses  here  !  Tell  the  Major  to 
write  me  word  who  has  bought  them.  My 
heart  aches  if  I  think  of  Villa  Eden. 

Just  now,  having  written  that  word,  I  was 
obliged  to  stop.  Have  patience  with  me  : 
you  shall  see  that  your  great-  goodness  to 
me  has  not  been  thrown  away.  You  shall 
hear  of  manly  behaviour  on  the  part  of 
Your 
Roland  Dournay. 

I  have  taken  the  name  of  Dour  nay  here. 
You  will  understand  why. 

[Manna  to  the  Professorin.] 
...  I  long  to  throw  myself  upon  your 
breast,  and  there  to  say,  "Mother!"  and 
nothing  more.  The  pen  trembles  in  my 
hand,  but  I  hear  you  say,  "  Be  strong."  I 
will.  I  dare  not  think  how  it  will  be  when 
we  are  again  with  you.  You  are  our  home. 
We  must  wait,  who  knows  how  long?  Who 
knows  with  what  sacrifices  ?  I  dare  not 
think  that  Eric  may  be  taken  from  me  — 
from  us. 

It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  me,  when  we 
trod  the  soil  of  this  continent  —  of  my  native 
land.  I  would  gladly  have  floated  on  with 
the  ship  forever.  I  am  living  in  the  house 
of  Dr.  Fritz.  Eric  and  Roland  have  to-day 
gone  to  Washington  to  see  Lincoln.  I  do 
not  realize  that  Eric  is  not  with  me,  and  yet 
I  must  soon  let  him  go,  how  differently  ! 
I  We  will  not  be  afraid,  will  we,  mother? 


THE  COUNTEY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


539 


A  wonderful  destiny  has  brought  us  together 
and  preserved  us  together  ;  it  will  remain 
true  to  us. 

I  should  like  to  tell  you  much  of  the  home 
where  I  dwell,  and  of  all  the  good,  intellect- 
ually wide-awake  people,  and  often,  when  I 
hear  the  wife  and  children  talking  and  see 
them  acting,  I  want  to  say,  "  That  you  get 
from  Eric's  mother,  from  my  mother.11 
There  exists,  over  the  whole  earth,  a  com- 
mon fund  of  noble  thought,  as  every  one 
finds  who  bears  a  portion  of  it  within  him- 
self. This  is,  to  me,  the  meaning  of  the 
words,  "Seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock 
and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you.11  You 
have  given  me  the  power  of  seeking,  of 
knocking,  and  I  find  that  it  is  opened  unto 
me.  Oh,  mother!  Why  must  it  be  by 
means  of  such  tremendous  events,  poised 
so  narrowly  between  life  and  death,  that 
the  greatness  and  goodness,  the  readi- 
ness for  martyrdom  of  the  human  heart, 
must  be  developed?  Why  not  in  peace, 
in  love,  in  quiet  cares? 

That  will  be  the  millennium,  you  have 
often  said,  when  the  best  qualities  will 
no  longer  unfold  in  struggle,  but  in 
beauty  and  peacefulness.  You,  my 
mother,  are  a  messenger  and  a  witness 
from  the  paradise-world  beyond  the 
strife.  Rejoice,  as  we  rejoice,  that  you  are 
this  messenger,  this  witness.  I  will  be- 
come like  you,  I  am  and  will  be  your 
daughter,  and  will  grow  evermore  truly  so. 

It  is  well  that  I  was  interrupted  in  this. 
Lilian  has  a  fresh  voice,  and  our  friend 
Knopfs  betrothed  sings  beautifully.  We 
have  practised  pieces  in  which  I  accompany 
Lilian's  singing  on  the  harp.  Oh,  if  we 
could  send  some  of  those  tones  over  the 
sea !  In  the  midst  of  the  uproar  of  life 
around  us,  here  we  sit  and  sing  by  the  hour 
together.  Now  I  understand  anew  that 
saying,  that  art  is  a  redeemer; — that  say- 
ing of  father's. 

Why  is  the  word  father  so  harrowing  to 
my  soul  ?  How  happy  it  was  for  my  mother 
to  be  snatched  away  as  she  was  !  When  I 
fall  into  this  train  of  thought,  I  always  feel 
as  if  entering  a  desert,  far,  far  away ; 
nowhere  anything  cheering  to  the  eye  or 
refreshing  to  the  soul.    We  must  bear  it. 

I  see  with  sorrow  that  I  am  writing  con- 
fusedly ;  but  you  know  and  believe  me, 
when  I  say  that  I  am  really  calm,  and,  above 
all,  you  are  to  know  that  I  never  burden 
our  Eric  with  these  heavy  thoughts.  It  is 
less  from  intention  than  —  no,  as  soon  as  he 
comes,  all  dread  and  grief  vanish ;  every- 
thing is  light,  sunshine,  day. 


Three  days  later. 
Eric  has   returned  with   Roland  from 

I  Washington.  They  have  much  to  tell,  and 
Roland  is  in  a  state  of  enthusiasm  which  you 

:  can  easily  picture  to  yourself. 

j     Have  I  already  told  you  that  our  friend 

j  Knopf  has  found  a  charming  little  wife  ? 

I  She  is  full  of  intelligence,  modesty,  and 

I  energy.    She,  too,  has  had  religious  eon- 

i  tiicts  to  undergo,  as  I  have,  not  so  severe ; 

;  but  then  she  has  had  a  hard  fight  with  her- 
self.   Lilian,  too,  young  as  she  is,  is  far 

!  riper  than  her  years,  on  account  of  her  zeal 

I  for  making  converts. 

She  was  sent  to  Germany,  and  our  friend 

■  Knopf  there  accomplished  a  good  work. 
Lillian  has  become  a  sister  to  me,  and  we 
talk  much  of  how  she  shall  go  with  ns  to 
the  Rhine.  She  thinks,  however,  that  Eric 
and  I  will  remain  here  ;  but  that  will  never 
be.  Our  home  is  there.  You  are  our  home. 
I  kiss  your  eyes,  cheeks,  mouth,  hands. 
Ah,  let  me  kiss  you  once  more,  once  more ! 
You  are  my  —  ah  !  you  do  not  know  at  all 
what  you  are  ;  but  you  know  that  I  am 
Your  daughter, 

Manna  Dournay. 
P.S.  Dear  Aunt  Claudine,  send  me  a 
great  deal  more  good  music,  some  soprano 
songs  with  harp  accompaniment,  and  send 
them  soon.  At  every  tone  I*will  think  of 
you,  and  my  naughty  little  finger,  which  you 
took  so  much  trouble  to  train,  is  now  per- 
fectly obedient. 

[Eric  to  Weidmann.] 

When  I  stood  before  Abraham  Lincoln,  I 
thought  of  you,  my  revered  friend.  And 
because  I  have  known,  in  my  short  life, 
what  purely  noble  men  breathe  the  same 
air  with  me,  I  was  unembarrassed  and  at 
my  ease.  My  lot  is  an  exalted  one  :  I  can 
look  in  the  faces  of  the  best  men  of  my  age. 
And  if  wiseacres  ever  again  tell  me,  conde- 
scendingly, that  I  am  an  idealist,  I  can  re- 
ply to  them,  "  I  must  be  one,  for  I  have  met 
some  of  the  noblest  of  men  on  my  life-road ; 
I  not  only  believe  in  the  elevation  of 
pure  humanity  —  I  know  it." 

I  will  only  give  one  incident  of  our  inter- 
view. 

We  heard  the  opinion  expressed,  among 
those  who  surrounded  Lincoln,  that  the 
negroes  ought  not  to  be  set  free,  because 
they  would  do  no  work  unless  forced. 
Roland  said  to  me  in  a  low  voice :  — 
"  Do  the  slaveholders  work  without  being 
forced? 11 

Lincoln  noticed  that  the  boy  was  say- 
ing something  to  me,  and  encouraged 
him  to  speak  without  reserve.  Roland  re- 
peated his  question  quietly  but  earnestly. 


540 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


You,  who  have  helped  me  to  awaken  this 
young  spirit,  will  sympathize  in  my  plea- 
sure. 

And  now  I  will  tell  you  about  your 
nephew. 

Oh,  our  blessed  German  life !  In  old 
times  travellers  took  with  them  into  foreign 
countries  the  images  of  their  saints.  We 
Germans  carry  our  poets,  our  philosophers 
and  musicians  over  the  face  of  the  whole 
globe  ;  and  your  nephew's  pleasant,  com- 
fortable, free  home  is  the  abode  of  true 
culture.  Here,  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult 
of  political  and  private  life,  reign  immortal 
spirits,  who  bring  a  devotion,  a  serenity,  a 
holy  quiet,  of  a  peculiar  sort. 

Your  nephew  has  done  well  in  always 
telling  me  not  to  believe,  with  most  people 
here,  that  this  war  will  be  over  in  a  few 
months.  I  now  think  not  of  the  end,  but 
only  of  the  next  day. 

And,  in  the  midst  of  this  growth  and 
change  of  historic  movement,  I  feel  that 
the  individual  is  like  the  single  cell  in  a 
tree,  or  else  that  we  are  like  boys  on  the 
school-bench.  We  do  not  know  the  entire 
educational  plan.  We  do  not  know  the 
end  to  which  all  this  leads.  We  must 
learn  our  lessons ;  and  cell  is  built  upon 
cell,  knowledge  is  added  to  knowledge, 
until  —  who  knows  the  end  ? 

In  the  first  great  struggle,  in  the  New 
World's  war  of  independence,  there  were 
Germans  sold  by  German  princes,  to 
fight  for  the  English  against  the  Ameri- 
cans, and  but  few  of  our  countrymen,  tow- 
ering up  among  them  like  Steuben  and 
Kalb,  did  battle  for  the  Republic.  At  that 
period  the  French —  Lafayette's  name  rings 
out  clear  among  them  —  stood  foremost 
among  the  New  World's  champions  of  free- 
dom. To-day  the  Union  army  contains 
thousands  of  Germans,  witnesses  who  have 
emigrated  or  been  exiled.  Why  are  there 
no  Frenchmen  ?  I  know  the  reason,  and 
so  do  you. 

I  see  the  poet  of  the  future  draw  near. 
The  great  drama  of  our  epoch;  the  strife 
between  Caesarism  and  self-government,  is 
presented  to  his  gaze  in  dimensions  such  as 
no  past  age  could  know  :  he  will  compress 
the  struggle  within  narrow  limits. 

The  Republic  of  the  United  States  has 
not  yet  existed  a  century.  Oh,  how  differ- 
ent is  the  aspect  of  things  here  from  what 
we  had  pictured  to  ourselves  !  I  have 
found  many  who  doubt  the  continuance  of 
the  Union ;  cultivated  clergymen  even  told 
me  that  there  was  certainly  more  power  of 
endurance  in  the  monarchical  form  of 
government.   That  is  the  feeling  of  dejec- 


tion and  despair:  but  it  is,  I  believe,  only 
to  be  met  with  in  single  instances. 

How  often  I  am  obliged  to  hear  myself 
called  a  philosophical  idealist !    And  they 

I  tell  me  I  shall  soon  be  converted.  Your 
nephew,  whose  comprehensive  glance  sees 
all  sides  of  a  subject, "has  solved  this  enigma 

I  for  me.  The  people  here  have  lived  so  long 
for  their  own  ease  alone,  feeling  their  claims 

,  of  the  State  only  occasionally,  as  voters. 
They  must  now  pass  through  the  school  of 
military  discipline,  of  staking  their  lives 
for  the  life  of  the  nation  —  only  as  an  edu- 
cation, of  course,  to  be  free  again  after- 

J  wards. 

j  The  so-called  slavery  question  is  not  so 
I  nearly  decided,  by  a  great  deal,  as  we  sup- 
J  posed. 

Your  nephew  thinks  the  complete  aboli- 
I  tion  of  slavery  will  become  a  necessary  war 
measure  of  vital  importance  to  the  con- 
tinued existence  of  the  nation ;  that  pat- 
riotism must  be  wedded  to  humanity  — 
that  the,  £ure  ideal  must  give  place  to 
utilitarianism  and  necessity  —  that  the 
logic  of  events  will  bring  about  a  decision 
not  to  be  effected  by  the  logic  of  thought. 
There  is  still  a  strong  party  here  in  the 
North  who  do  not  wish  to  proceed  to  the 
one  extreme  measure,  as  they  call  the  abso- 
lute abolition  of  slavery;  but  hope  to  sub- 
due the  South  by  war  instead. 
.  We  hope  they  will  not  succeed.  The 
words  "  necessity  of  State,"  so  often  mis- 
used by  tyrants,  will  now,  we  trust  lead  to 
Liberty. 

How  much  one  is  obliged  to  hear  against 
the  negroes  in  this  country ! 

That  the  four  million  slaves  represent 
twenty  hundred  million  dollars,  is,  of  course, 
the  point  first  mentioned;  then  that  the* 
blacks  have  many  vices,  as  though  a  perfect 
model  of  virtue  were  to  be  expected  from  a 
down-trodden  race.  Any  nation,  so  long  held 
in  bondage,  tortured,  martyred,  condemned 
to  ignorance,  would  have  been  just  what 
they  are.  Moreover,  tyranny  has,  in  all 
ages,  proclaimed  the  oppressed  to  be  low 
beings,  ignoring,  of  course,  the  fact  that 
if  they  have  some  base  tendencies,  it  is  the 
oppression  that  has  prepared  the  soil  and 
implanted  them. 

I  have  made  the  acquaintance  here  of  a 
distinguished  negro,  whose  oration  on  the 
present  situation  and  the  future  of  his  race 
I  had  heard.  There  was  a  touch  of  De- 
mosthenes in  it.  He  was  a  slave  twenty- 
two  years,  and  has  acquired  a  complete 
scientific  education. 

Sometimes  there  is  in  his  voice  a  quiver- 
ing tone  of  lament,  as  of  one  drooping 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


541 


under  a  weight  of  sorrow,  and  I  admire  him 
for  suppressing  an  avengeful  anger.  If  a 
single  man  can  do  much  for  his  race,  this 
man,  or  one  like  him,  might  become  an  his- 
toric character. 

But  the  heroic  age  is  past,  entirely  and 
forever ;  now  we  must  depend  on  commu- 
nity of  action. 

We  are  transported  into  the  midst  of  an 
historical  or  logical  unfolding  of  events. 
The  attempts  at  peaceful  reconciliation 
have  been  of  no  avail.  In  spite  of  the  cry 
"  No  coercion  !  "  an  army  had  to  be  raised, 
and  now  the  cry  is,  "No  confiscation  of 
property  !  "  That  means,  no  abolition  of 
slavery,  and  yet  this  must  be  the  second 
result,  since  it  could  not  be  the  first. 

The  moral  debt,  neither  noted  down  nor 
paid  interest  on,  nor  cancelled  on  change, 
is  now  becoming  a  great  national  debt 
of  the  Union,  which  the  country  will  be 
obliged  to  liquidate  with  money  and  blood. 

[Manna  to  the  Mother.] 

 What  a  small  matter  was  that 

night-riot  made  by  men  with  blackened 
faces  !  I  have  lived  through  a  pro-slavery 
riot.  Doctor  Fritz  says  it  arose  from 
the  bitter  opposition  to  the  conscription. 
Many  blacks  were  murdered,  our  friend 
Knopf's  school  was  laid  in  ruins,  and  the 
negro  orphan  asylum  burned  to  the  ground, 
the  poor  black  children  rolling  crying  on 
the  pavement.  We  have  much  to  do. 
The  world  has  much  to  make  amends  for. 

[Eric  to  the  Banker.] 

 I  perfectly  understand  your 

sorrow  over  the  fact  that  there  are  some 
Jews  among  the  Secessionists.  General 
.  Twiggs,  commanding  in  Texas,  who  went 
over  to  the  rebels  with  his  army,  fortress, 
and  munitions  of  war,  was  a  Jew. 

And  that  speculators  on  change  also  lend 
assistance  to  the  defenders  of  slavery ! 
Why  should  they  less  than  the  professedly 
pious  English  ? 

Why  do  you  require  all  the  Jews,  collec- 
tively and  individually,  to  stand  on  the 
side  of  moral  principle  ?  They  have  the 
right  of  equality,  even  in  ill-doing.  They 
are,  if  one  may  be  permitted  to  say  so, 
equally  justified  in  crime  with  other  men. 
It  must  be  shown,  it  is  now  being  shown, 
that  no  religion  has  the  monopoly  of  mo-« 
rality. 

You  complain  that  the  passion  for  enjoy- 
ment has  invaded  even  your  innermost 
circle  of  friends. 

That  belongs  under  the  heading  above 
indicated.  The  more  I  think  over  your 
letter,  the  more  surely  I  arrive  at  this  con- 


I  elusion :  the  Jews,  so  long  and  so  cruelly 
excluded  from  participation  in  national  af- 
fairs, and  condemned  to  a  sad  cosmopoli- 
tism, will  now,  in  their  days  of  liberation, 
behave  like  natives  of  the  different  commu- 
nities in  which  it  is  their  lot  to  be*,  and  will, 
above  all,  remain  patriotic. 

Moreover,  I  can  assure  you  that  many 
Jews  are  here  among  us,  fighting  with 
valor  and  self-sacrifice. 

The  young  physician  equipped  by  you 
is  exceedingly  able. 

The  money  which' you  sent  over  is  being 
conscientiously  expended. 

I  hope  yet  to  sing  with  your  daughter- 
in-law,  to  whom  please  present  my  kind 
regards. 

My  wife  joins  me  in  cordial  remem- 
brances of  you. 

[The  Professorin  to  Eric  and  Manna.] 

All  is  well.  Would  that  I  could  send 
you  some  of  the  spring  fragrance  and 
beauty  which  surround  us  here.  No  tree 
bears  blossoms  as  countless  as  the  bless- 
ings which  go  out  from  my  heart  to  you. 
Here  we  sit  in  peace,  and  you  are  out  there 
in  the  battle.  We  can  do  nothing  for  you, 
only  I  say  to  you,  my  son,  and  to  you, 
my  daughter:  whatever  may  come,  abide 
quietly  in  the  assurance,  that  having  fol- 
lowed the  leadings  of  the  spirit,  we  must 
silently  recognize  and  bear  our  part.  I 
have  been  in  the  next  village ;  it  must  be 
like  a  recent  settlement  in  America. 

It  is  a  beautiful  and  great  thing  to  be 
able  to  help  so  many  human  beings  to  a 
cheerful  and  active  existence. 

My  son,  why  do  you  not  write  whether 
you  have  inquired  for  Uncle  Alphonso  ? 
Do  not  delay  doing  so.  If  he  is  yet  .living, 
tell  him  that  I  have  never  judged  him  un- 
kindly, though  he  has  been  so  hard  upon 
us ;  and  tell  him  that  your  father  always 
preserved  a  brotherly  feeling  for  him. 
But  ah,  I  do  not  know  whether  he  is  still 
alive.  Do  not  delay  to  get  some  positive 
information. 

Our  friend  Einsiedel  is  busy  in  arranging 
your  father's  papers. 

Our  good  Major  wants  to  have  a  room 
built  in  the  hot-house,  and,  next  winter, 
live  there  all  day  long  among  the  plants, 
breathing  in  their  fragrance;  then,  he  as- 
serts, he  should  live  to  be  a  hundred  years 
old. 

[Claudine  to  Manna.] 
If  you  feel  overwhelmed  by  the  hard  ex- 
periences which  you  must  bear,  do  not  for- 
get to  keep  up  your  study  of  astronomy ;  it 
takes  us  out  of  all  our  small  troubles. 


542 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON"  THE  RHINE. 


You  will  have  to  make  new  applications 
of  your  astronomical  knowledge  to  new  con- 
ditions in  America. 

[Lina  to  Manna.] 

To-morrow  I  give  my  first  large  coffee- 
party  ;  look  upon  me  with  respect.  I 
spread  fine  damask  table-cloths,  and  have 
my  own  gilt-edg&d  cups.  Ah.  why  can  you 
not  be  here  ?  People  say  that  my  voice  is 
much  stronger  now  that  I  am  a  mother. 
O  Manna,  the  most  beautiful  song  is  that 
which  one  sings  to  her  child.  1  hope  it 
won't  be  long  before  you  know  it. 

Pranken  and  his  wife  have  come  back, 
but  they  are  not  to  remain  with  us.  He  is 
to  be  ambassador  somewhere  on  the  Lower 
Danube,  near  Turkey ;  I  don't  know  the 
name  of  the  country. 

I  have  thought*  of  ,a  beautiful  plan  for 
you.  When  you  come  home,  you  must  es- 
tablish a  special  singing-club  of  all  the 
matrons  and  maidens  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  we'll  sing  in  your  garden,  and  in  the 
beautiful  music-room,  and  in  the  pretty 
boats  on  the  river,  and  on  the  flat-roofs, 
and  everywhere.  Ah,  that  will  be  life!  If 
to-morrow  were  only  here  ! 

[Einsiedel  to  Eric] 
Elevating  thoughts  are  in  these  papers 
which  your  father  left  behind  him.  It  is 
much  to  be  regretted  that  one  of  them  has 
not  been  given  to  the  world  before  this. 
He  foresaw  this  war  in  America  quite  clear- 
ly. Connected  and  logical  thought  is  a 
kind  of  prophecy.  I  shall  publish  the 
sheets  with  my  positive  assurance  that  they 
were  written  by  a  noble  recluse  many  years 
before  the  events  foretold. 

[Weidmann  to  Eric] 

We  are  in  the  midst  of  all  sorts  of  work* 
You  wanderers  took  much  of  our  peace 
away  with  you,  but  now  all  is  in  its  habitual 
order  again. 

Thank  you,  dear  Dournay,  for  your  let- 
ter. My  nephew  always  sends  me  the 
newspapers  regularly.  Do  not  allow  your- 
self to  be  distracted  by  thoughts  of  Europe, 
and  by  too  great  a  variety  of  interests ; 
you  are  stationed  at  a  post  where  you  must 
keep  only  the  next  duty,  before  your  eyes. 
Forgive  me  lor  permitting  myself  to  admon- 
ish you  thus.  It  was  high  time  that  this 
disgrace  should  be  wiped  out  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  our  age,  for  it  had  begun  to 
appear  that  long  habit  was  weakening  the 
keen  and  bitter  sense  of  its  sin  and  shame. 

I  am  finding  surprising  confirmation  of 
this  opinion.  Herr  Sonnenkamp  corrupted 
our  district  more  than  he  knew;  people 


now  speak  well  of  him.  "  Ah,  only  a  slave- 
trader  !  "  "Nothing  worse!'1  may  be 
heard  on  all  sides. 

There  is  always  something  commanding 
in  heroism ;  the  bold  scoundrel  is  more  at- 
tractive than  the  unobtrusively  virtuous 
man.  Not  only  the  frivolous,  but  quite 
sober-minded  men  think  that  the  Prince 
was  unnecessarily  scrupulous  in  refusing  to 
ennoble  Herr  Sonnenkamp. 

A  plant  has  become  common  in  Europe 
which  is  called  the  water-pest :  you  may 
have  read  of  it ;  it  came  from  Canada, 
probably  attached  to  some  vessel,  and  has 
almost  choked  the  Thames  with  its  roots 
and  entangled  stems  ;  it  has  crept  far  into 
the  continent,  and  has  now  reached  us,  but 
we  will  conquer  it.  Such  a  water-pest 
spreads  too  in  spiritual  matters. 

[Doctor  Richard  to  Eric] 

All  the  others  have  no  doubt  written 
most  edifying  and  sentimental  letters ;  I 
have  something  better  for  you.  First,  let 
me  tell  you  to  rejoice  that  you  have  some- 
thing to  do,  and  have  done  with  speculating. 

And  now  for  a  fine  story  :  — 

Otto  von  Pranken  — for  whom  I  always 
had  a  sympathy,  like  all  the  rest  of  the 
profane  world ;  he  is  no  paragon  of  virtue, 
but  there's  a  good  deal  in  him — has  beaten 
the  black-coats  in  shrewdness  ;  he  got  him- 
self recommended  to  Rome  by  them  and 
there  he  has  played  a  smart  trick.  He  en- 
tered the  Papal  army  with  the  rank  of 
Major,  but  got  into  some  difficulty,  on  pur- 
pose, as  I  believe.  He  wrote  a  letter  full 
of  dissatisfaction  over  the  organization  of 
the  army,  and  this  gave  him  an  excuse  for 
resigning,  and  marrvincr  the  youns;  widow, 
the  daughter  of  Herr  von  Endlich.  When 
you  come  home  you  will  have  some  new 
neighbors.  They  say,  though,  that  Pran- 
ken is  to  enter  on  a  diplomatic  career,  and 
I  think  he  has  talent  for  it. 

Have  vou  seen  or  heard  nothing  of  Frau 
Bella? 

(TheMajorin  Grassier  late  Fraulein  Milch,  to  Knopf.] 
You  can  fancy  how  your  letter  rejoiced 
us.  My  good  husband  was  cheered  up  by 
it  into  better  spirits  than  he  has  had  for  a 
long  time.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  since  you 
all  went  off,  he  has  been  full  of  trouble. 
For  months  he  has  not  been  able  to  get  rid 
of  the  thought  why  he  was  not  younger,  so 
that  he  could  have  gone  with  you.  And 
then,  don't  laugh  at  us,  we  have  a  real 
family  trial,  for  our  Laadi  has  grown  blind, 
and  no  physican  can  help  her.  People 
laughed  at  us  for  tending  the  dog  so  care- 
fully :  they  want  us  to  have  her  shot,  but 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE.         '  543 


that  we  can't  do,  and  so  we  take  care  of 
poor  Laadi.  My  husband  sits  for  hours 
by  her,  talking  to  her,  and  even  takes  her 
out  for  a  little  walk  every  day.  Why  must 
the  dog  grow  blind  ?  Ah,  but  I'm  asking 
stupid  questions  ;  one  has  to  be  careful  not 
to  grow  sentimental ;  Mother  Nature  is  a 
hard  mother. 

I  knew  the  father  of  your  Rosalie  ;  he  was 
once  at  our  house  with  the  school-master 
Fassbender. 

[Eric  to  Weidmann. 

Adams  was  ordered  to  work  in  the 
trenches,  and  a  great  number  of  negroes 
with  him,  but  he  would  not  take  the  pick 
in  his  hand ;  then  Roland  did  what  I  once 
dissuaded  him  from  doing,  when  he  wanted 
to  labor  among  the  workmen  at  the  castle. 
I  think  I  told  you  about  it.  Now  he  joined 
the  negroes  and  used  his  pick  with  them, 
and  when  I  went  to  him  once,  as  he  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  forehead,  1  saw  a 
light  in  the  youth's  eye,  which  said  that  the 
crown  of  human  honor  rests  on  the  brow 
from  which  runs  the  sweat  of  toil. 

Beginning  this  letter  to  you  composes 
me,  in  the  midst  of  the  constant  excitement 
of  camp-life. 

There  is  much  discontent  in  the  army ; 
men  are  blaming  Lincoln  for  maintaining  a 
vacillating,  uncertain  policy,  or,  to  say  the 
least,  for  his  extreme  slowness. 

I  must  leave  it  to  Dr.  Fritz,  or  rather  to 
time,  to  prove  the  truth  of  his  words  when 
he  says,  Lincoln  is  not  a  genius,  an  indivi- 
dual towering  above  the  mass ;  he  is  an 
average  man,  the  exact  exponent  of  the 
spirit  of  the  people  at  its  present  stage  of 
progress.  He  is  not  remarkably  distinguish- 
ed, but  a  man  of  just  the  right  stamp. 

Perhaps  that  is  true,  and  it  is  much  to 
say.  This  is  not  greatness  in  the  old  sense 
of  the  word,  and  we  may  have  entered  up- 
on an  age  which  has  outgrown  the  heroic, 
and  those  representatives  of  heroism  around 
whom  all  others  seemed  grouped  as  minor 
figures. 

Opposed  to  the  Monarchic,  the  Aristo- 
cratic, and  the  Monotheistic,  stand  the  Re- 
publican, the  Democratic,  and  the  Pantheis- 
tic :  they  are  only  three  different  names  for 
three  unfoldings  of  the  same  principle. 

[  Roland  to  the  Professorin.] 
My  first  lines  from  camp  shall  be  to  you, 
dear  Frau  Professorin.  I  thank  you  for  the 
motto  which  you  once  gave  me ;  I  feel  as 
if  I  were  not  the  same  person  to  whom  all 
that  happened.  I  promise  you,  and  this 
is  a  new  oath  of  allegiance,  to  be  true  to 
your  motto. 


Ah,  why  do  you  not  know  Lilian  ?  she 
deserves  that  you  should  know  her. 

I  have  told  her  a  great  deal  about  you ; 
she  thinks  she  should  stand  in  awe  of  any 
one  so  wise  and  learned,  but  I  tell  her  she 
need  not. 

And  oh,  Dr.  Fritz  is  such  a  noble  man. 
He  told  me  that  he  was  a  pupil  of  your 
husband,  and  it  must  make  you  happy  that 
your  husband's  spirit  lives  on  in  such  a  man, 
here  in  the  New  World. 

I  must  try  not  to  think  too  much  of  you 
and  of  the  past :  I  ought  now  to  give  my 
thoughts  only  to  what  we  have  before  us  ; 
and  I  am  tired  out.  I  have  had  a  very  fati- 
guing drill. 

Eric  is  held  in  great  respect  here.  All  is 
still ;  in  camp  it  is  said  that  to-morrow  we 
shall  come  under  fire  for  the  first  time. 

Morning. 

The  battle  is  beginning ;  I  hope  to  do  my 
duty. 

Evening. 

I  have  been  promoted  on  the  field. 
[  Eric  to  Weidmann.] 

In  Camp. 

We  have  fought  a  battle ;  we  have  been 
defeated.  Roland  has  distinguished  him- 
self, and  been  promoted.  I  have  to  use  all 
my  influence  to  restrain  his  daring. 

The  coolness  and  deliberation  of  your 
grand-nephew  Hermann  are  a  great  help 
to  me. 

The  hardest  thing  in  this  war  is,  that 
thousands  must  necessarily  be  sacrificed  in 
order  to  teach  the  officers  the  art  of  war. 
There  is  a  deficiency  of  experienced  and 
tried  leaders  ;  and  it  is  no  small  thing  that 
the  army,  wholly  without  any  confidence  in 
the  military  skill  of  its  generals,  maintains 
itself  so  bravely.  They  must  learn  how  to 
fight  by  fighting ;  and  in  this  particular  the 
Southern  States  have  the  advantage. 

I  have  very  great  doubts  whether  our 
opponents  fight  with  the  hope  of  triumph ; 
I  mean,  whether  they  honestly  believe,  that 
if  they  conquer,  their  principle  can  be  per- 
manently established. 

Their  very  bitterness,  which  exceeds  all 
bounds  of  a  common  humanity,  the  very 
vindictiveness  with  which  they  carry  on  the 
contest,  shows  me  that  they  believe  in  a 
victory  by  war,  but  not  by  peace.  And  here 
the  question  presents  itself  to  me :  Why 
must  an  acknowledged  ideal  principle  always 
and  forever  be  attained  through  blood  ? 

This  is  the  great  enigma  of  history.  But 
it  is  the  same  as  it  is  in  a  smaller  sphere 
and  in  individual  life  ;  humanity  is  rational, 
but  its  predominating  characteristic  is  pas- 
sion, impulsive  affection,  which  urges  for- 


/ 


544 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


ward  and  renovates  the  life  of  humanity 
as  it  does  that  of  the  individual.  I  am  re- 
minded of  an  expression  of  yours,  that 
nothing  is  so  conducive  to  the  growth  of 
vegetation  as  a  thunder-storm.  It  is  per- 
haps the  same  in  the  history  of  man  and  of 
humanity.  Schiller's  dream,  that  the  highest 
form  of  poetry  would  be  the  peaceful  idyl 
of  an  equilibrium  of  opposite  forces  without 
any  great  sacrifice,  is  but  a  dream.  It  is 
not  found  in  the  sphere  of  pure  thought  or 
poesy,  because  it  is  nowhere  found  m  actual 
life. 

As  Goethe  said,  this  America  has  no 
middle  ages  to  conquer,  but  he  was  mis- 
taken in  saying  that  it  had  no  basaltic 
strata,  for  it  is  now  just  coming  out  of  its 
own  peculiar  condition  of  feudalism.  Its 
history,  like  that  of  a  dramatic  poem,  is 
condensed  into  a  briefer  period  of  time, 
and  brought  more  directly  under  our  view. 

This  America  has  been  engaged  in  no 
war  for  dynasty  or  religion,  and  it  must 
now  fight  for  an  idea.  Independence  was 
the  first  great  question,  and  that  may  be 
also  an  egoistic  question.  The  emancipa- 
tion of  others  is  the  second  and  purely 
ideal  one ;  and  to  be  taken  entirely  out  of 
the  strife  for  wealth  and  material  goods 
where  external  well-being  is  the  sole  in- 
terest, the  final  and  supreme  concern,  and 
to  be  placed  in  a  period  of  history  where 
life  must  be  imperilled  for  an  idea,  this 
gives  ideal  power.  America  now  for  the 
first  time  brings  her  new  element,  her  sac- 
rificial gift,  into  the  Pantheon  of  humanity. 
Until  now,  it  might  be  said  that  the  his- 
torical greatness  of  America  bore  no  com- 
parison with  its  natural  greatness. 

America  has  had,  compressed  into  a  sin- 
gle epoch  of  existence,  its  migration  of  the 
nations,  its  crusades,  and  its  thirty  years'* 
war ;  and  there  is  something  of  the  rapid- 
ity and  the  instantaneousness  of  the  elec- 
tric telegraph  in  its  history. 

Here  I  am,  sitting  in  camp,  and  writing 
like  a  schoolmaster.  But  it  has  done  me 
good.  I  feel  collected,  refreshed,  and 
strengthened  while  turning  my  thoughts  to 
you. 

[Roland  to  the  Professorin.] 
We  have  been  beaten  !  Mother,  we  have 
been  beaten  !  Eric  consoles  me  and  con- 
soles us  all ;  he  says  that  it  is  good  for  us, 
we  must  learn  to  stand  the  brunt.  Well,  I 
will  learn. 

(Eric's  Postscript.)  Mother!  I  found 
these  lines  which  Roland  left  behind,  and  I 
send  them  to'  you.  Roland  is  missing,  and 
has  either  fallen  or  been  taken  prisoner;  he 


has  borne  himself  bravely,  and  had  been 
promoted  to  be  an  officer.    O  my  Roland  ! 

[Eric  to  Weidmann.] 

In  Camp. 

The  great,  the  necessary  step  has  been 
taken ;  the  negroes  have  been  called  to 
serve  in  the  army,  and  we  have  enlisted  in 
a  negro  regiment,  — Roland,  Hermann,  and 
I.  Now  the  contest,  is  for  the  first  time 
complete.  The  negroes  show  themselves 
willing  and  docile,  and  are  always  merry. 
This  discipline  of  the  army  is  an  excellent 
preparatory  school  for  life. 

We  have  learned  from  one  of  our  spies 
that  a  man  who  calls  himself  Banfield,  but 
who  from  the  description  I  think  is  Son- 
nenkamp, is  in  the  army  in  front  of  us,  and 
with  him  there  is  a  woman  in  man's  dress, 
a  great  beauty,  who  receives  the  homage 
of  all.  I  had  hoped  that  he  would  enter 
the  Navy ;  it  is  horrible  to  me  that  he  and 
his  son  are  now  fighting  in  hostile  ranks,  so 
directly  face  to  face  with  each  other.  I 
trust  that  Roland  will  hear  nothing  of  it. 

But  it  is  very  pleasant  to  see  the  beau- 
tiful comradeship  of  Roland  and  your 
grand-nephew,  Hermann ;  they  are  insep- 
arable. 

[Roland  to  the  Professorin.] 
The  final  step  has  been  taken.  Eric, 
Hermann,  and  I  have  enlisted  in  a  black 
regiment.  This  is  just  what  I  wanted.  I 
may  be  allowed  to  say  it  to  you,  these 
bondmen  now  struggling  for  a  manhood 
which  would  not  have  been  accorded  to 
them  in  peace,  thuy  love  me.  I  think  of 
Parker's  word.  Oh,  what  a  day  that  was 
when  I  heard  his  name  from  you  for  the 
first  time,  there  going  out  of  church,  and 
then  

Forward !  this  is  now  our  watchword ; 
there  must  be  no  looking  back  now.  One 
thing  more.  I  have  found  a  friend,  and  a 
better  one  you  could  not  have  wished  for 
me  out  of  your  own  full  loving  heart ;  and 
my  Hermann  is  Lilian's  brother.  I  dare 
not  dwell  upon  the  thought  that  he  is  fight- 
ing from  his  own  voluntary  choice,  and  I  — 
No,  I,  too,  stake  all  freely. 

[Eric  to  Weidmann.] 

In  Camp. 

0  my  friend  !  Roland  is  missing.  We 
have  gained  a  victory.  I  have  searched 
the  battle-field  with  our  surgeon,  Adams, 
and  Hermann.  O  what  a  sight !  We  did 
not  find  Roland.  Our  hope  is  that  he  has 
been  taken  prisoner. 

What  a  hope ! 

1  am  obliged  to  console  myself  while 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


545 


consoling  Hermann.  The  youth  feels  to 
the  very  depth  of  his  true  soul  sorrow  for 
the  lost  one,  but  he  is  far  from  exhibiting 
any  weakness ;  the  good  training  of  a  free 
Commonwealth,  and  of  the  German  paren- 
tal home,  has  now  its  effect.  Hermann  is 
now  my  tent  companion ;  he  is  entirely  dif- 
ferent from  Roland.  Here  in  America 
every  one  has  room  for  development,  and 
all  the  branches  live  and  spread  forth  on 
the  tree ;  and  besides,  Hermann  has  no 
sorrowful  conflict  with  fate  in  his  soul,  such 
as  my  poor  Roland  had. 

I  beg  you,  if  any  news  comes  from  Son- 
nenkamp addressed  to  me,  that  you  would 
write  to  him  that  his  son  is  a  prisoner. 

I  am  tired  to  death.  The  images  of  the 
wounded,  the  dead,  the  trampled  under 
foot,  will  never  fade  from  my  memory. 

I  don't  know  when  I  shall  write  you 
again;  but  I  entreat  you  to  let  Sonnenkamp 
know  about  Roland  immediately ;  perhaps 
you  could  insert  it  in  some  English  news- 
paper which  circulates  in  the  Southern 
States. 

Confer  with  Professor  Einsiedel  about 
everything,  but  I  beg  you  not  to  say  any- 
thing about  it  to  my  mother. 

[Lilian  to  the  Professorin.] 

"  Write  at  once  to  Eric's  mother,"  says 
Roland  to  me. 

So  you  see,  honored  lady,  that  I  have 
found  him. 

The  terrible  tidings  reached  us  that 
Roland  had  either  been  killed  or  taken  pri- 
soner, and  I  could  no  longer  endure  it.  I 
went  down  into  the  enemy's  country.  Oh, 
how  much  I  have  gone  through  !  I  have 
been  on  the  battle-field,  and  looked  into 
the  faces  of  hundreds  of  the  mangled  and 
the  dead.  I  have  been  in  hospitals,  and 
heard  the  moans  and  the  groans  of  the 
sick  and  the  wounded,  but  nowhere  Roland, 
nowhere  any  trace  of  him. 

I  still  travelled  onward,  and  they  had 
compassion  for  me,  those  terrible  people ; 
they  pitied  the  lonely  maiden  who  was  seek- 
ing her  beloved. 

I  found  him  at  last — no,  not  I.  Griffin 
found  him,  for  the  faithful  animal  was  with 
me.  We  found  him  in  a  barn.  He  is  wound- 
ed. Oh,  he  looked  so  emaciated,  so  changed, 
that  I  scarcely  knew  him  !  But  now  all  is 
well. 

Roland  relates  that  a  woman  in  man's 
clothing  had  him  taken  into  the  barn,  and 
he  asserts  that  it  was  the  Countess  Bella.  I 
saw  her  once  when  I  was  at  Mattenheim,  I 
have  seen  her  now.  I  think  it  was  she  — 
rushing  past  on  horseback,  and  dressed  like 


a  man.    She  looked  at  me,  and  must  have 

recognized  me. 

Oh,  mother  !  it  is  very  wonderful.  Per- 
haps Roland  has  told  you  that  he  gave  me 
a  pebble,  and  1  gave  one  to  him,  when  we 
saw  each  other  at  Mattenheim.  This  peb- 
ble he  kept  and  wore  over  his  heart,  and 
the  pebble  saved  his'life. 

I  have  sent  an  account  of  everything  to 
New  York,  but  I  do  not  know  whether  the 
letter  will  get  there.  Letters  will  reach 
Europe,  and  I  beg  you  to  forward  the  tid- 
ings to  my  father  and  to  Eric.  Say,  besides, 
that  Roland  is  wholly  out  of  danger ;  a 
German  physician  in  the  army  here  gives 
me  this  assurance. 

Send  the  news  also  to  Mattenheim,  to 
uncle  and  aunt  and  all  the  relatives. 

Roland  has  just  waked,  having  had  a 
good  sleep. 

He  wants  me  to  request  you  to  take  the 
deaf  mute  to  the  Villa,  and  give  him  some- 
thing to  do  in  the  garden ;  he  talks  a  great 
deal  about  him. 

[Eric  to  Weidmann.] 
•  Now  the  worst  is  over !    I  don't  know 
how  to  put  it  into  words. 

It  was  a  hot  day,  and  the  battle  was  a 
severely  contested  one  on  both  sides.  We 
have  gained  the  victory,  and  our  loss  is 
great.  Adams  came  to  me  ;  he  was  bleed- 
ing, and  foaming  at  the  mouth.  I  wanted 
to  bind  up  his  wounds,  but  he  pushed  me 
away,  crying,  — 

"  Come !  come  !  I  did  not  kill  him,  he 
gave  the  masonic  sign  —  I  dared  not  kill 
him  —  he's  lving  outside  there." 

"Who?'' 

"  The  man  —  the  man." 

I  had  great  difficulty  in  getting  him  to 
speak  the  name.    It  was  Sonnenkamp. 

I  took  a  physician  with  me,  and  we  hur- 
ried past  the  wounded  calling  for  help. 

We  came  to  a  hill ;  there  he  lay.  I  could 
hardly  get  my  breath  as  I  stood  there  before 
him,  but  at  last  I  cried,  — 

"Father!  " 

"  Father !  "  screamed  he.  "  Awav !  leave 
me!  " 

He  stared  at  me  with  glassy  eyes.  He 
tore  up  the  grass,  and  digging  out  the  earth, 
he  buried  his  face  in  the  fresh  mould, 
trVing  to  inhale  that  peculiar  odor  which 
had  always  refreshed  him;  but  he  shook 
his  head,  appearing  unable  to  perceive  the 
earthy  smell. 

He  now  turned  round  and  stared  at  me. 

The  physican  made  preparations  to  dress 
his  wounds,  from  several  of  which  the  blood 
was  flowing.  He  thrust  the  physician  away 
with  violence. 


546 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


"I  will  not  be  bound!  Off  with  the 
whole  of  you  !  " 

I  kneeled  down,  and  said  that  he  had  not 
been  fighting  against  his  son ;  that  Roland 
had  been  missing  for  three  months,  and  had 
evidently  been  taken  prisoner. 

"A  prisoner!  woe  !  woe!  woe!"  he 
shrieked.  "  A  prisoner  !  Oh,  she  is  to  blame 

—  she  !  she  !  I  did  not  want  to  !    I  had  to 

—  she  wanted  to  ride  on  horseback  —  she 
sits  splendidly  —  to  play  theamazon.11 

He  burst  into  a  scornful  laugh.  "  On  the 
sea —  on  the  ocean  —  "  continued  he,"  there 
I  wanted  to  be  —  I  had  to  follow  —  I  saw 
her  fall  —  she  was  beautiful  even  in  death 

—  an  enchantress  —  an  enchantress  !  " 
The  physician  beckoned  to  me ;  I  knew 

what  he  meant.  I  asked  him  if  he  desired 
anything. 

He  stared  at  me. 

' '  Yonder  —  give  me  that  —  give  !  " 
He  pointed  to  a  beautiful  heath-plant  not- 
far  off.  Adams  had  observed  our  look  and 
the  words.  He  tore  up  a  whole  bunch  of 
ericas,  and  gave  them  into  the  hand  of  the 
dying  man,  who  gazed  at  him  with  eyes 
almost  starting  out  of  his  head.  Then  a 
smile  came  over  his  face  ;  drawing  himself 
up  with  a  mighty  energy,  he  fell  back  utter- 
ing one  terrible  shriek,  and  his  limbs  were 
straightened  in  death.  He  died  with  the 
heath-plants  in  his  clenched  hand. 

Oh,  how  much  I  have  gone  through,  how 
much  I  have  been  forced  to  suffer  !  Nothing 
harder  can  ever  befall  me. 

As  we  buried  him  in  the  earth,  and  cover- 
ed him  over  with  heaths,  I  wept  over  a  man 
whose  vast  powers  had  led  him  astray.  What 
would  have  been  his  fate,  if  

Here  I  was  interrupted  in  the  midst  of 
my  writing.  Since  those  lines  were  penned, 
I  have  buried  another  corpse. 

I  was  called  to  Adams,  who  had  neglected 
having  his  wounds  attended  to,  and  now  it 
was  too  late.  He  asked  after  me.  I  stood 
at  his  bed-side,  and  with  a  last  exertion  of 
strength,  he  asked  me  :  — 

"  Herr  Major,  can  any  one  steal  a  thing 
like  that  ?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Can  a  man  like  that  belong  to  our  order, 
and  have  the  sign  ?  " 

"  You  see  that  he  can." 

"  What  do  the  brethren  have  swords  for 
then  ?  Why  did  I  not —  "  cried  he,  gnash- 
ing his  teeth. 

He  clenched  his  fists,  raised  himself  up, 
and  then  sank  back.  His  savage  nature, 
which  had  been  only  repressed  and  held  in 
constraint,  broke  out  in  the  last  death- 
struggle. 

Oh,  I  can  write  nothing  more.  I  have 


been  deceived  in  myself.  I  believed  myself 
fortified  against  everything,  but  I  am  not. 
I  beg  you,  dear  Herr  Weidmann,  to  inform 
my  mother  of  the  death  of  Manna's  and 
Roland's  father. 

If  I  could  only  go  to  sleep,  if  I  could 
only  rest ! 

[Postscript  in  Manna's  hand-writing.] 
This  letter,  written  thus  far,  was  found  in 
my  Eric's  pocket  when  he  was  drawn  from 
under  his  horse's  hoofs.  In  his  excited,  and, 
in  fact,  delirious  state,  he  had  mounted  his 
horse,  thinking  he  was  going  into  battle. 
He  was  thrown.  I  send  the  letter.  He 
does  not  yet  recognize  any  one,  and  is  still 
delirious,  but  the  physician  gives  me  some 
hope. 

I  shall  keep  the  letter  until  I  can  give 
some  more  favorable  tidings. 

Three  days  later. 

My  husband  says  that  he  finds  invigora- 
tion  in  thinking  of  you.  I  have  also  to-day 
written  to  the  Mother. 

[Manna  to  the  Professorin.] 

Mother,  he  is  saved !  All  anxiety  has 
fled.  He  is  saved  !  He  was  down  with  a 
fever  days  and  nights,  and  did  not  recog- 
nize me ;  he  knew  my  dogs,  Rose  and 
Thistle,  but  not  me.  But  once  he  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"  Oh,  the  harp-tones  !  " 

I  telegraphed  at  once  to  New  York  for 
my  harp  to  be  sent  to  me ;  the  telegraphist 
told  me  of  a  woman  in  the  place  who  had  a 
harp ;  she  lived  alone,  and  her  lot  had 
been  a  hard  one,  as  she  had  learned  after 
her  marriage  that  her  husband  had  another 
wife  living.  I  went  to  see  the  woman,  and 
this  woman  is  the  mother  of  my  Heimchen. 
The  Superior  had  written  to  her  of  the  love 
of  her  child  for  me,  and  I  had  to  relate 
many  things  to  the  mother.  And  now  — 
yes,  we  are  always  living  in  the  midst  of 
wonders  !  Heimchen  gave  to  me  the  harp 
from  which  the  tones  are  to  come  that  will 
give  my  husband  rest. 

I  stationed  myself  in  the  next  room,  and 
with  the  physician's  consent,  I  played  upon 
the  harp.  Eric  went  to  sleep,  and  when 
he  waked,  said  :  — 

"  Why  does  not  Manna  come  ?  " 

The  physician  forbade  my  entering  the 
room,  as  it  was  important  he  should  receive 
no  violent  shock.  And  so  I  could  see  him 
only  when  his  eyes  were  closed,  until  at  last 
the  surgeon  gave  his  permission. 

In  the  wanderings  of  fever  he  always 
saw  me  as  I  was  in  the  convent  when  I  had 
on  the  wings,  and  he  spoke  French  and 
laughed  at  sister  Seraphine.    The  shock  of 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


5-17 


my  father's  death  had  affected  Eric  so 
deeply,  that,  as  the  physician  told  me,  he 
had  been  for  a  long  time  without  an  hour's 
sleep. 

Sedatives  were  given  to  Eric,  but  they 
seemed  to  be  attended  with  some  risk,  and 
had  to  be  discontinued.  Then  there  was 
another  battle.  All  besought  him  to  keep 
quiet,  as  he  had  already  distinguished  him- 
self so  highly;  but  he  mounted  his  horse 
and  rode  off.  The  horse  stumbled  and 
threw  him  headlong,  and  he  was  taken  up 
for  dead  and  carried  into  the  hospital.  I 
received  the  news  and  hastened  hither. 
Everything  is  going  on  well  now,  but  he  is 
still  very  weak. 

But  he  begged  me,  and  it  is  just  like  him, 
to  confer  the  pleasure  upon  the  rest  of  the 
wounded,  so  I  have  to  play  the  harp  for 
hours  together.  It  is  an  unspeakable  re- 
freshment to  the  patients,  and  the  surgeons 
assert  that  the  wounds  heal  more  rapidly, 
on  account  of  the  cheerful  state  of  mind 
thereby  induced.  And  when  I  come  back 
to  Eric,  and  the  surgeon  tells  him  how 
beneficial  the  music  is  to  the  sick,  his  coun- 
tenance lights  up.  He  speaks  but  little  ; 
he  holds  my  hand  silently,  and  only  says 
that  he  has,  during  his  life,  talked  too 
much.    But,  mother,  you  may  feel  easy. 

Eric  wants  to  be  allowed  to  write  a  word 
to  you. 

(In  a  trembling  hand  was  written  as  fol- 
lows :) 

Thy  living,  loving,  beloved  son  Eric. 
(Then  in  Manna's  hand-writing:) 
Don't    be    alarmed  at   these  unsteady 
strokes.  The  physician  says  that  all  danger 
is  over,  and  nothing  is  needed  but  absolute 
rest. 

Oh,  mother  !  How  can  I  adequately  thank 
the  Eternal  Spirit  that  my  Eric  lives  ;  that 
I  am  not  a  widow,  and  that  a  life  is  not 
made  fatherless  from  its  very  birth  ?  Be 
easy  ;  I  remain  strong,  and  I  have  a  three- 
fold duty  in  living. 

[Manna  to  Professor  Einsiedel.] 
I  was  called  in  the  hospital  to  a  prisoner 
from  the  Southern  army,  severely  wounded, 
who  had  heard  my  harp-playing.  He  asked 
about  me,  and  was  told  that  I  was  a  Ger- 
man. The  man  related  to  me  that  he  had 
an  uncle  in  Germany,  who  had  been  a 
book-keeper  in  a  large  banking  establish- 
ment. One  evening  when  his  uncle  was  at 
the  theatre,  he  robbed  him  and  fled.  I  told 
him  that  I  had  become  acquainted  with  such 
a  man  through  you  at  Carlsbad,  that  is  to 
say,  I  had  seen  him  ;  I  gave  as  good  a  des- 
cription of  him  as  I  could.  The  wounded 
man  asserted  that  it  was   his  uncle,  and 


begged  me  to  write  to  him  that  he  repented 
of  what  he  had  done.  He  had  always 
hoped  that  he  should  become  wealthy  some 
day,  so  as  to  return  and  make  full  restitution  ; 
this  could  not  be  realized  now,  as  he  must 
die  poor;  but  he  desired  that  his  uncle 
should  know  of  his  repentance. 

You  will  impart  all  this  to  the  man. 

[Eric  to  his  mother.] 
In  the  midst  of  the  wanderings  of  my 
fever,  I  kept  saying  to  myself:  Thou  hast 
promised  thy  mother  to  return  home  safe 
and  sound.  Thou  must  not  be  ill,  must  not 
die.  Thou  must  keep  thy  word.  And 
this  thought  was  ever  by  me,  sometimes 
making  me  quiet,  sometimes  restless.  I  was 
forever  thinking  that  I  could  certainly  do 
something  to  force  nature  to  remove  the 
shadows,  the  heaviness,  the  dullness  which 
weighed  me  down.  There  were  two  souls 
in  me.  And  once  I  very  plainly  heard  you 
saying  to  me :  Keep  perfectly  quiet ;  you 
are  undermining  your  life  with  your  perpet- 
ual thinking ;  for  once  let  thinking  alone. 
And  then  I  was  standing  on  the  stage  at 
the  music  festival  to  sing,  but  I  could  not 
bring  out  a  solitary  note.  I  have  gone 
through  a  great  deal  of  suffering,  but  I  am 
now  in  perfectly  good  spirits. 

[Doctor  Fritz  to  Weidmann.] 
A  strange  riddle  has  been  solved  by 
means  of  Eric's  being  wounded,  an  account 
of  which  was  given  in  the  newspapers  in 
connection  with  the  victory.  A  small,  deli- 
cate-looking old  man  came  to  me,  who  ad- 
dressed me  in  German,  but  with  difficulty, 
showing  that  he  had  probably  not  made  use 
of  the  language  for  many  years.  He  asked 
me  if  I  was  acquainted  with  a  Major  Dour- 
nay.  I  said  yes,  and  after  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  I  succeeded  in  finding  out  that 
this  was  Eric's  uncle,  a  man  of  very  great 
wealth.  He  wanted  to  know  all  about  the 
family,  and  especially  whether  his  sister 
Claudine  was  yet  living.  Luckily,  Knopf 
could  tell  him  all  the  particulars. 

[Eric  to  his  mother.] 
Mother !  My  uncle  has  been  found ! 
Through  my  fall  from  the  horse,  but  yet 
more  through  Manna's  playing  on  the  harp, 
that  was  spoken  of  in  the  newspapers  as 
some  marvellous  tale,  my  uncle  came  to  see 
Dr.  Fritz.  My  uncle  visited  me  while  I 
was  very  ill,  and  I  thought  that  I  had  seen 
my  father.  They  tell  me  that  I  became  so 
excited  that  my  life  was  again  endangered, 
and  they  had  to  withhold  the  news  until  I 
had  wholly  recovered.  I  showed  your 
letter  to  my  uncle,  and  the  old  man,  who 


548 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  1TIE  RHINE. 


has  heard  nothing  from  Europe  for  ten 
years,  wept  bitterly.  He  will  go  back  to 
Europe  with  us. 

[Knopf  to  Fassbender.] 

The  classic  age  had  great,  noble,  heroic 
forms,  but  it  had  no  uncle  in  America. 
And  how  did  the  world  before  Columbus1 
day  get  on  without  any  uncles  in  America  ? 
I  think  that  our  good  Lord,  as  he  rested  on 
the  seventh  day,  dreamed,  in  his  mid-day 
sleep,  of  the  uncle  in  America,  meditated, 
and  created  him. 

My  friend,  Major  Dournay,  has  now 
found  his  uncle  with  a  fortune ;  I  don't 
know  how  much  it  is,  but  a  large  one,  and 
all  honorably  earned.  Now  he  is  himself 
put  in  a  position  to  solve  the  riddle  of  what 
should  be  done  with  so  much  money.  He 
will  not  build  my  music  hall,  but  he  will  do 
something  else  that's  great. 

[Doctor  Fritz  to  Weidmann.] 

Two  children  are  born  to  us.  Manna 
has  a  son,  and  Frau  Knopf  a  daughter.  I 
was  with  Knopf  when  his  daughter  was 
born,  and  when  he  saw  her  face  the  first 
time,  he  exclaimed  aloud :  — 

"  Pure  Caucasian  race  !  " 

Then  he  acknowledged  to  me,  that  in 
spite  of  his  liking  for  the  negroes,  he  had 
always  feared  that  his  Rosalie's  child 
would  be  black,  because  she  had  black 
children  so  constantly  around  her,  since 
she  had  been  their  teacher  with  him.  And 
now  he  is  delighted  that  his  daughter,  who 
is  to  be  named  Manna  Erica,  is  a  pure 
Caucasian,  and  he  merrily  extols  the  fate 
which  has  decreed  that  the  first-born  of 
the  girls'  teacher  shall  be  a  girl. 

Manna's  child  has  received  the  name  of 
Benjamin  Alphonso.  Uncle  Alphonso  is 
god-father ;  he  has,  in  his  will,  divided  his 
property  equally  between  his  sister  Clau- 
dine  and  his  brother's  son,  and  already 
transferred  one-half  of  it.  He  means  to  go 
to  Europe  with  his  nephew,  but  I  do  not 
think  the  good  little  man  will  live  long.  I 
have  already  told  you  that  my  daughter 
Lilian  sought  out  pur  young  Roland  in  the 
enemy's  country,  and  rescued  him.  Ro- 
land is  still  very  weak,  but  his  youthful 
vigor  will  restore  him. 

The  great  war  is  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
with  the  rejoicings  over  victory  we  shall 
celebrate  Roland's  and  Lilian's  wedding. 
They  are  to  remain  here  with  us. 

Roland  has  borne  himself  bravely.  We 
are  to  use  the  greater  part  of  his  property 
to  buy  land  for  the  negroes,  furnish  them 
with  all  necessary  supplies,  and  establish 
schools  for  them. 


[Eric  to  his  mother.] 
Mother!  Grandmother!  all  is  well. 
Ah,  what  more  is  there  to  say  ?  After  all 
our  suffering  we  are  happy.  And,  mother, 
I  am  coming,  coming  home  with  my  wife 
and  child,  and  Uncle  Alphonso.  The 
waves  will  bejfcr  us  up,  the  ship  will  carry 
us,  the  land  will  stand  firm,  and,  mother,  I 
shall  hold  you  in  my  arms  again,  and  lay 
my  child  in  your  arms ;  we  shall  live  and 
work. 

[  Eric  to  Weidmann.] 

We  have  entered  Richmond  with  our 
black  regiment. 

The  noblest  experience  has  been  mine  :  I 
have  been  allowed  to  take  part  in  the  great- 
est struggle  of  our  country. 

Slavery  is  no  more. 

Now  let  the  gentlemen  in  gowns  and  bands 
come,  and  show  us  heretics  a  deed  which 
shall  bear  such  mighty  consequences  as  this. 

•  Later. 

Read  this !  A  murder,  an  assassina- 
tion !  Why  was  it  not  to  be  ?  Why  can 
nothing  be  carried  out  purely  to  perfection  ? 
Lincoln  assassinated  ! 

Does  it  not  often  seem  as  if  a  malicious 
demon  ruled  the  world  ? 

This  deed  is  a  standing  proof  of  how  far 
the  supporters  of  an  aristocracy,  the  defend- 
ers of  a  privileged  class,  the  deniers  of 
human  rights,  have  sunk  into  barbarism. 
In  future  days  such  wickedness  will  not  be 
believed;  but  now  it  stands  plainly  before 
us  as  assassination,  and  not  the  deed  of  a 
single  individual ;  it  is  the  work  of  a  sworn 
band  of  conspirators. 

The  fanaticism  of  the  Southern  States 
had  burst  forth  in  war,  now  it  has  its  seal 
of  blood. 

[Knopf  to  Weidmann.] 

Our  friend  Dournay's  uncle  is  dead  ;  he 
was  ill,  and  the  news  of  the  assassination 
of  President  Lincoln  killed  him. 

Eric,  Manna,  and  their  child  are  going 
home. 

[Eric  to  Professor  Einsiedel.] 
What  I  am  now  interested  in  arranging 
is  not  the  filling  out  of  my  own  life,  the  new 
calling  into  which  I  have  entered.  It  is  the 
torment  attendant  on  the  self-renovation  of 
the  modern  mind,  that  doubts  and  questions 
immediately  set  themselves  in  opposition  to 
action. 

I  want  to  establish  a  refuge  for  laborers 
in  the  intellectual  field,  but  the  question 
comes  up  to  me  :  — 

Is  not  this  a  direct  contradiction  to  the 
spirit  of  this  modern  age  ? 


THE  COUNTRY-HOUSE  ON  THE  RHINE. 


549 


Is  not  the  desire  for  solitude  a  necessary 
part  of  that  free  individual  life  which  is  our 
noblest  characteristic  ? 

Could  I  imagine  a  Lessing,  in  his  old 
age,  in  this  house  of  refuge  which  I  would 
found? 

Is  not  the  quiet  communion  with  one's 
self,  which  is  our  most  precious  treasure, 
destroyed  or  banished  by  living  in  such  close 
relations  with  others  ? 

I  think  that  it  is  not,  and  only  those  who 
pine  for  rest  shall  enter  the  home. 

I  beg  you  not  to  consider  this  as  the  roof 
of  my  life-building ;  it  is  to  be  only  a  merry 
green  bough  which  I  would  set  up. 

[Eric  to  Weidmann.] 
This  letter  goes  only  three  days  before  us 
to  Europe,  to  the  Rhine. 
I  am  coming  home. 

Deliver  the  enclosed  legal  document  to 
the  proper  authorities. 

I  herein  declare  that  only  a  life  interest  is 


retained  in  Villa  Eden  for  myself  and  Man- 
na, my  wife.  I  herein  declare  the  house, 
the  garden,  the  park,  as  described  in  the 
Registry  office,  and  a  sufficient  sum,  here- 
after to  be  determined,  irrevocably  as- 
signed for  the  maintenance  of  deserving 
scientific  men  and  artists. 

My  friend  and  teacher,  Professor  Einsie- 
del, is  commissioned  to  draw  up  the  rules 
regulating  the  admission  and  the  mode  of 
life  of  those  who  are  to  be  inmates  of  Villa 
Eden. 

My  wish  is,  that  there  should  be  a  peace- 
ful refuge  for  deserving  intellectual  labor, 
a  home  for  voluntary  work,  in  Villa  Eden, 
the  Country  House  on  the  Rhine. 

(P.S.)  I  have  promised  Roland,  if  I 
live  until  the  year  1887,  to  come  back  here 
to  celebrate  the  hundredth  birthday  of  the 
American  Republic.  Then  will  we  see  and 
compare  what  each  of  us  has  accomplished 
in  his  father-land  and  for  his  fellow-men. 


